The Sex Lives of KinkyMira and Friends

Kinky and filthy things that have happened to us, all explicitly told

Page 33 of 36

Sleepy Anal and How It Helped To Improve My Mood

18 September 2018 /

It has been a busy few months, what with new opportunities, and life in general. There hasn’t been much time for sex and given a choice between writing about fucking and actual fucking, I am afraid that actual fucking wins every time. I’ve got a cunt and an asshole to fill and a husband with a girthy cock to fill them, so I’m making the most of it. After all, we’ve got records to uphold.

I still haven’t worn any panties in nine months, and we’ve still fucked at least once every day since mid-December. I’m particularly proud of those, especially the last one, which has been really difficult to maintain at times, given how busy we have been. We probably owe our continuing record to something my husband has perfected, the sleepy anal fuck.

It started one morning when he woke up with a rock hard cock. I was face down with my ass uncovered, and he really wanted to lube up my asshole and slip his cock in. He didn’t though, as it seemed a little rapey given we’d never spoken about it, and without waking me, he wouldn’t have my consent. I love him so much for that – a lot of men would have ploughed on regardless.

Anyway, whilst he was cunt fucking me later in the day, he was talking about what he saw and what he wanted to do to my poor asshole. We’d never done anything sleepy sex wise, but I knew someone who loved it, because of its dreaminess and unreal feeling. So, I told him next time he was in that situation, he was to give it a go (unless I pushed him off or showed signs of distress).

A few mornings later, I awoke and was aware of a fabulous dream where I’d been ass fucked for quite a long time. I felt so relaxed and that sort of happy you only get from a dream, and I felt tremendously loved. I put my hand round to my asshole, and sure enough, there was the sticky evidence of lube round my asshole. It wasn’t a dream. He really had fucked my asshole, and he managed to do so without waking me from my dreamy state (which is quite an achievement in itself).

That dreamy ecstatic feeling didn’t leave me all day. I only had fuzzy memories of the fuck, so I was keen to hear from him (when he got in from work) what had actually happened. He said rather than tell me, he’d demonstrate on me, if I would pretend to be asleep. Any excuse for an ass fuck!

Anyway, he stripped me off and loaded me onto the bed in roughly the right position, and I closed my eyes and let him start. It was slightly weird, as we’re pretty chatty during sex, but this was quiet. He slightly moved my position and began lubing up my asshole. I then felt the tip of his cock nudging against my hole, as he started to push in. I couldn’t help but smile as he began a very slow and deliberate fuck. He was on top of me and was trying to hold his weight off me (more than he would if I was awake). As he put his mouth towards my ear, he started whispering things, like how much he loved me, how greedy my asshole was and how much cum he was going to deposit. He was so gentle, careful, and yet firm and deliberate. He’d clearly been planning how best to fuck me and not wake me, and it worked well.

It lasted about forty minutes before my husband exploded and dumped a massive load of cum inside my ass. I actually wondered if I was starting to drift off then, as I had a dreamy sort of happiness. He withdrew and just left my ass is a mess – my way of knowing what he had done whilst I was in my dreamy state.

Sleepy anal is unlike anything else we’ve tried in how it makes me feel. I love the feeling of sleepy anal, the fuzziness of the memories, the trying to work out if it was real or not. I love that he deliberately doesn’t clean up my asshole, so that I had something to feel when I put my hand round – he thought it was important that I knew that I had been ass-fucked.

On several occasions and because of the heat, the early morning sleepy anal fuck was the only sex we had on that day. That kept up the record, as well as exercising my asshole and my imagination. But getting a fuck in early also meant there was much more chance for a second fuck in the day too.

You see, I’m horny a lot at the moment. We have busy lives, so only normally get a couple of hours together of a weeknight. During that time, we fuck and are generally kinky and filthy. Of a weekend, we often fuck twice a day (or sometimes more if we can), but we’ve never found a way to fuck more during the week, without him waking me up. We never thought of this, and yet it is so obvious really. I wake up with a warm fuzzy and loved feeling, and it gets our average up to near twice a day.

But far more important than keeping up the record is my mood. We worked out a long time ago that my mood and mental health deteriorate if I’m not getting fucked regularly, and the longer I go, the lower I get. My husband sometimes jokes that he’s giving me my medicine, but actually, it is very serious. The more I’m fucked, the happier I am; the less I’m fucked, the lower my mood gets. I had a patch of low mood over the summer, despite daily fuckings, but I quickly pulled out of it this time; at times in the past, it has been very bad. I put that down to the daily fucks, and to sleepy anal, which sets my mood better early in the day.

My husband takes his responsibilities of keeping me thoroughly fucked and making me feel loved very seriously, and this year has been my best year since we’ve been together mood-wise. I think that it is in no small part down to our fabulous sex life – it is 261 days into the year, and (thanks to my husband’s diary), we know we’ve fucked 417 times (as well as being kinky at other times). We averaged 10 fucks a week early on, but sleepy anal has allowed us to get our average nearer 13 fucks a week. If we get the average up a little more, we should get to 600 fucks in the year, and that is definitely our target now. I was convinced I’d get bored of sex, that it wouldn’t be special because of the volume, but as yet, that hasn’t happened. The more sex I have, the more I want, and the quality hasn’t deteriorated either; if anything, it is better now than it was a year ago. I realise some people have real issues with this amount of sex, but in our case, our sex drives are now pretty well matched. We want to fuck or be kinky or filthy all the time.

A Love Of Wetting

11 May 2018 /

I vividly remember the first time. My husband in the bathroom told to sit on the toilet, me a couple of feet in front of him lifting up my skirt, revealing that I was wearing a pair of full cotton briefs. He’d never known me wear anything other than a thong or nothing (apart from for my period), so he was quite surprised. As his gaze fixed on my panties, I began to slowly release the contents of my pretty full bladder. A quick powerful spurt made a decent wet spot right up front, and my husband got the idea what I was up to. I saw his eyes welded to the damp spot.

I knew he’d enjoy it. It was his idea in a fantasies discussion a few months before. At the time, I said I didn’t think it was my thing. But I kept thinking about it. I kept wondering what was in it, why anyone would do it?

It didn’t really appeal as I had issues when I was younger with bed-wetting and the thoughts of doing similar now didn’t exactly make me feel overly sexy. However, over time, I came to realise that this was one of those historic demons I needed to slay.

I didn’t know if I was going to repeat it, so I did my research, working out what fabrics and garments to use. But I didn’t experiment, I just shared my first attempt with my husband.

So, a small damp spot slowly got bigger and my piss started to drip from my panties. I didn’t have the bladder control I have now, so I couldn’t keep a slow stream forever, and soon the dam burst, and my piss fired out of my pisshole and literally poured out of my panties.

All too soon it was over. My bladder was empty and the lower parts of my panties were soaked.

After I gave him a good few moments to take in the view of my wet panties, I dropped my skirt and told him I was going to cook dinner whilst he cleaned up my piss. Then I left him to it.

A few minutes later, he loaded some piss soaked towels into the washing machine and set it going. Then he lifted up the back of my skirt and gazed at my piss soaked panties stretched over my ass. The warmth had now gone, and it was colder and felt wetter.

I intended to remove my panties and clean up before dinner, but my husband prepared my chair with some towels, so I lifted up my skirt and sat with my panties on the towels, eating my dinner still in my piss soaked panties.

Only after dinner did I shower, and then he fucked me very thoroughly.

So clearly he enjoyed it, but I have to admit I rather enjoyed it too. It felt incredibly naughty, and I did like the warm feeling it gave. As I started to doze off in his arms, my cunt filled with his cum, I realised I was looking forward to doing it again. I was thinking about slowing down my flow, and about how different garments and fabrics would behave.

It was only a few days later that I was home alone working and I wanted to finish the bit I was writing before I pissed. My throbbing bladder didn’t allow me to finish it, as thoughts of wetting came into my head, and I started thinking of which garment to try. I was in leggings and a thong, so I decided that would do. I stood in the bathroom in front of the full length mirror and released my piss as slowly as I could. I could see why he was mesmerised. Watching how the damp patch grew was fascinating. I loved the warm feeling as my piss spread across the fabric of the leggings. I realised that not only was wetting a great activity to share with my husband, it was also a great solo activity that I could enjoy if I was feeling kinky.

And so began my love affair with wetting. Over the next few months, I did a number of tests, and I came up with a few basic rules. Mesh panties are pretty useless for wetting, as the piss goes straight through them. Thongs aren’t much use either, as there isn’t enough fabric for the damp patch to spread. Cotton-based fabrics are much better, as the piss can travel along it and spread out a little. I found that thicker fabrics were more satisfying, as there was more resistance to the piss falling away, so it tended to travel along more keeping more wetness close to the skin – denim is a good example of this.

I read online that most people thought wearing panties under clothes produced a better wetting feeling, but, to be honest, I got the best feeling with no panties and tighter clothes. I bought a second-hand pair of skin-tight jeans; the sort I need to pour myself into. They produce one of the best wetting experiences I’ve had. The way the piss travels around inside the denim means you get a good wet coverage, especially along the underside of the ass where it meets the legs. The visual difference between wet denim and dry also makes it very good for watching.

With abandoning panties as I now have, my husband found shorts made of cotton, viscose and lycra. They are quite thick, but tailored to hug closely to the body, including down the ass crack and between the cunt lips. Without wetting them, they are slutty as fuck. But they are amazing when I wet them. They are light grey when dry, so dark grey when wet, and the thickness of the fabric makes the piss spread and move around inside them. When they are dry, you can see the shape of everything. When they are wet, you can see even more, and we have three pairs to keep us going. We’re keeping the jeans though, purely for wetting.

Another type of wetting that I do is to wear a long skirt (and nothing underneath) and to just piss. My legs and shoes get soaked, and so does the skirt, but it is quite a subtle form of wetting, and can be carried out outside with relative ease. In a particularly kinky variant, my husband lies with his head under my skirt and gets a face full of piss. In one of my favourite variants, I sometimes put my stockings and suspenders on, stand up squeezing my legs tightly together and then release my piss. The way it runs down the legs and leaves wet streams down the stockings in very appealing.

I enjoy wetting when I have a full bladder, but my husband sometimes likes me to be more extreme, getting me to indulge in a practice called desperation. That is where you hold on to your piss for so long that it becomes uncomfortable and even painful. I used to think that the stereotypical cross-legged crotch grabbing shots were for show, but as I’ve found out, if you are that desperate, those body movements happen naturally. The feeling as you no longer have to contain your piss and it erupts from your body is pretty amazing, and the relief is wonderful. I find I am so consumed in those feelings that I forget to look at the spreading wetness until my bladder is empty.

At the moment, I’m doing solo-wetting at least twice a week, and wetting for my husband a couple of times a month. I love it, and all those feelings from younger times have been banished. When I’m wearing clothes streaked with piss, I feel naughty, kinky and happy.

I Love The Word Cunt

25 April 2018 /

You may have noticed whilst reading this blog that I use the word cunt a lot here. It is my favourite word for so many reasons. It is so rare for a single word to be able to enrage, excite, upset, or offend – no other word can do the same. It is such a simple word, one syllable, crisp sound, straight forward spelling and yet it has so much power. Cunt is one of the few remaining words in the English language with a genuine power to shock.

I try to use cunt as much as I can both in the context of a vulgar word for female genitalia and as a term of disparagement, even though it is generally regarded as unsuitable for normal public usage. As a term of disparagement, it is second to none. Sometimes cunt is just the only adequate word to describe a person, it is the only word that contains the venom!

I realise that this is now the more common usage, but I think the word is best used for female genitalia. I use pussy in fairly polite company, but I use cunt as much as I can (including in this blog). I much prefer it. I love the way it sounds; I love the slight harshness of the word. I’m with those that think of cunt as a positive word, a badge of honour to be celebrated. I don’t subscribe to the belief that it is a disparaging term that reinforces a dehumanisation of women by reducing them to body parts. No, I’m proud of my cunt, and I’m proud to use the word cunt as frequently as I can without causing problems.

It is also the single word that gets my cunt instantly wet. My husband can lean over and whisper in my ear how he is going to fill my greedy cunt later on, and within seconds, I’m wet, horny, and looking for a way to get alone with him. It was the use of a whispered cunt that led to me removing my panties for him for the first time. It was the use of a firmly spoken cunt that led to me first opening my legs and letting my husband lick me. It was the use of a loudly spoken cunt that led to me being fucked over a fallen tree in a remote part of a forest. It was the use of a whispered cunt that led to the first time we fucked on someone else’s sofa.

I also use a lot of other cunt-based words and phrases. Firstly, vagina or vaginal are often inaccurate as terms which often should refer instead to a vulva rather than a vagina. That inaccuracy annoys me. I hate other euphemistic terms like snatch and clunge even more. I find vajajay to be mildly amusing, but don’t really use the term much. Pussy is the best of the rest, but I would happily use cunt exclusively if society would permit.

Secondly, the use of vaginal in phrases is inconsistent with the short crispness of the words anal and oral. Cuntal however is a term that is in keeping, and works seamlessly in all cases, (for example, anal sex, cuntal sex and oral sex). I specifically like cuntal and the cuntal region as they are clearly defined even if you have never heard the terms.

Thirdly, terms such as fuck are not specifically cuntal by nature. For us, a fuck could be almost any penetrative sexual act. (For example, if I’m going to fuck my husband, that means a strap-on buried in his ass). Therefore, to correctly specify the type of fuck, the word cunt is again better than vagina (e.g., ass fuck, cunt fuck and mouth fuck).

The first time I heard my husband use the word cunt was in the early days of our relationship when he said he wanted to do a cunt inspection. It felt so good to have him intimately inspect me in great detail, as I did (and still do) love any touch of him on my body, but I was also pleased by his use of the word cunt. When he saw the happiness and enjoyment I got from the cunt inspections, he added cunt maintenance (and later, ass inspections and ass maintenance too). We both still enjoy doing them all on a regular basis, and now we have Victoria, he has second opportunity for inspections and maintenance, and he sometimes has a cunt buffet (where he has two cunts available to lick at the same time and he can switch backwards and forward between the two). Unsurprisingly, he likes those!

As we are both very comfortable with the word cunt, we use cunt-based phrases regularly. He’s particularly pleased when I have a cunt leak; he loves the mixture of his cum and my cunt juice oozing out of my cunt given my pantyless state, especially when I am out and about. Where I can, I like to leave the mess for him to clean up, which he is normally eager to do. I’m not sure he realises the amount of willpower it takes for me to have a messy cunt, as historically, I didn’t really like being left in a messy state and would go almost immediately to clean up. He seems intent on making me have a messy cunt as often as possible, and all the practice is making it easier to leave it for him. He delights if I have a cunt pearl, which is the first drop of semen secreting from my cunt in a cream pie. He’s a very skilled cunt licker, after he was extensively trained in the task by some girls at uni. I also frequently do cunt skimming, where I wear no panties (obviously) and a skirt that is so short that you can see my cunt. I only do that in adult company though with people who will appreciate it.

There are so many other phrases that are just better with the word cunt. Cunt lips and cunt flaps are two I love (although I do use piss flaps in pissy contexts). Honey Cunt is a lovely crisp name for a dessert. My husband likes Cummy Cunt too, although that is more of a starter, and he often partakes of cunt gobbling, which is the act of viciously devouring a cunt.

We’ve also enjoyed cunt chugging, which is the act of pouring a beer or champagne into my cunt then turning me over to chug the drink directly out of my cunt, and afterwards, I would need to have a cunt flush, which is a good wash out with a douche or even shower attachment, a rare treat, but sometimes a necessity.

With the snow a few years ago, before I had my Mirena, the timing of my period was such that I was able to do a cunt slushy, which is when I sat in the snow and my period blood mixed with it, to create a pink slushy-like substance. That was fun, although rather cold! Previously, my period was never well timed, and I’d not been able to tick this one off the list before.

I have so many happy memories associated with the word cunt. I love the word cunt. I think it will be my favourite word for ever.

Fucking Our Friend Victoria (Part One)

21 April 2018 /

We hadn’t seen Victoria for about three months since she sucked off my husband and cum-kissed me. It wasn’t for any reason of awkwardness, more that her work took her to the other end of the country.

When she did finally get work our way, I suggested she stay with us, and that there would always be a bed for her with us. I hoped she would remember that there was only one bed in our place, but that it was a super king size, so there was more than enough room for three. Without explicitly saying, I was offering more than a blow job and cummy kiss. Happily, she realised, and she was eager to fuck too.

Having dealt with the weirdness of arranging a visit which we all knew would end up with fucking, but neither of us actually said so (not something to which we give a second thought now), Vicki and I had a long girly chat on the phone one evening, when my husband was working late.

It was a really lovely chat. Basically, she was happy to go along with what we decided. Ideally, she wanted cock and cum, she wanted kink, she wanted to fuck me, and she was very happy to teach me anything I wanted to know. In return, I knew my husband wanted to fuck her ass (he always had since he first saw it in a tight pair of jeans) and so I told her. Of course, he’d fuck her cunt too, and I explained about his preference for cunt and ass rather than blow jobs, and I said her taste for cum would quite often be filled by snowballing or cleaning his cock with her mouth. She was happy with that. I was also there to provide cunt and to be an eager lesbian student. She was happy with that too!

We also made a rather a monumental decision – my husband would fuck her bareback, just like he fucks me. She hates condoms too (as do we) and loves the feeling of cum being deposited in her holes (as do I!). She has a Mirena too, so we didn’t need to worry about pregnancy, and we agreed we would all have sexual health checks the week before (and then be exclusive from then until our time together). She also memorised our safe word, and we both went through our red lines over which we will not step. Like ours, her red lines were minimal, but important.

The scene was set. The tests were all carried out and proved clear, and the evening of her arrival soon came.

She walked through the door in a stunning business suit. She came up to me, put her arms round me as if to hug me, yet started to gently kiss me. The gentle kiss turned into a full-blown tonsil-sucking snog that went on for ages. It was an amazing kiss. As we eventually broke, we looked lovingly into each other’s eyes. She said she’d wanted to do that for ages, and I told her she could do it whenever she wanted.

She turned round to my husband and threw her arms round his neck and started snogging him. Weirdly, I felt really proud. As she was sucking on his tonsils, I realised that it was actually happening. We’d got ourselves a lover. Lips are for lovers, and she can have all 4 of mine. My husband would be doing disgusting things with her within a matter of seconds, and I fucking loved it. I was immensely happy to be sharing my man (of which she was insanely jealous at one point) and I wanted him to make her squirm, scream and cum like he has always made me. He’s an enormously attentive lover, so I’m sure he would. She also said on the phone that I’d probably cum more in that day than in any other. I knew I wouldn’t be getting my husband’s cock any more that day (as I had my daily fuck in the morning before work), but I’d be getting the best she can do in between him ploughing her. I couldn’t wait.

As they snogged, she used her right hand to play with his cock through his trousers. I decided to help, so I reached round her and undid his trousers, slipping them to the floor. (He wasn’t wearing pants in expectation). As I stepped back to admire her now playing with his cock, I realised I could undo her skirt at the back and slip that down. She wasn’t wearing panties and as well as her ass, I got to view my husband’s cock getting very hard in her hand.

Being careful to step out of the clothes, he manoeuvred her round so that she was resting against the wall (all without breaking the kiss). Then, he pushed his cock between her cunt flaps and then, firmly drove his cock deep into her cunt. She cried out with pleasure (finally breaking the kiss) and then he began a firm steady hard rhythm, penetrating her against an unyielding wall, and then coming almost all the way out on every stroke. His drive is really powerful against a hard wall, and she was getting every ounce of that drive. I stepped back to take in the full majesty of his every thrust. Her body seemed to recoil at each drive, then follow him back as he pulled out.

I could see from his face that he was well in control, despite his cock being hard and enormous, so he wasn’t about to come any time soon. She was though I thought, as her body started to push against his cock and writhe around a little. As she came, she grabbed on to him tightly, but he didn’t break rhythm. She opened her eyes, and looked at him, and realised what he was going to do.

And so, with her arms round his neck, she held on for the ride. He made her cum four times in total before he lost control and filled her cunt with cum. As his cock slipped out of her cunt, her legs slightly collapsed, so I sat her on the edge of the chair that lives in our hall. She leant back and he stepped over her legs to dangle his cock in her face. She wasn’t about to be able to get him hard so soon, but she was able to clean his cock with her mouth. In the meantime, I opened her legs a little, dropped to my knees and started licking at her cunt. I like the taste of cum (I just don’t like having to give a blow job to get it), so sucking cum out of Victoria’s cunt was an ideal way for me to get it. As I flicked my tongue over her clit, I felt her body twitch, and the evil part of me decided to see if I could get her to cum some more. I managed two more orgasms from her before her body gave out, and we left her to rest, still in the hall, naked from the waist down and slumped in a chair.

Soon, she might come out of the hall and get into the main part of our home!

Not An Act Of Dominance

17 April 2018 /

My husband was lying on our wooden floor, his head resting on a small square pillow. He was staring longingly up at me, standing naked over him. He had a great view of my cunt and up to my 34H tits.

I knelt down, with the lower part of my legs either side of his head and my cunt lined up with his mouth. I wasn’t facesitting, I was taking the weight, but my cunt was firmly in contact with his mouth. He used his tongue to locate my pisshole and then latched his mouth in the right position. This was a well-rehearsed positioning; he knew exactly where he needed to be.

He also knew to just stretch this out a little. Each second he made me wait with a ridiculously full bladder was a second of the kind of agony I love, a second of danger, and when he was ready, and when he thought I could hold it no longer, he tapped me gently on my ass with his hand, and that was my signal to release my hold and allow my hot piss to flow out into his mouth.

It was a well-practised exercise, as we wanted my flow to be just right. Too slow and it was frustrating for him, leaving him sucking on air and having only a drop of piss in his mouth each time he had to swallow. Too fast and it flooded out of his mouth and went everywhere. It is quite difficult to regulate a stream when you have a bladder full to bursting, but it is something I’ve mastered fairly well over the months we’ve been doing this. With a flow that is just right, he can gulp down all my piss with a pleasing yet challenging rhythm and keep flicking his tongue over my cunt to keep me clean.

Once my bladder is empty, he cleans and dries me with his tongue, and then he’ll attempt to lick me to orgasm unless I sit up and move my cunt away from his mouth. Whether I get licked to orgasm is entirely up to me, but I rarely pull away.

We first explored this particular watersports act because he wanted to try it. I didn’t really, but I wanted to please him, so I did try it. I wasn’t expecting us to feel such an amazing connection doing it, and to enjoy it so much. There is something wonderful and indescribable about someone wanting to suck on your pisshole and drink your warm piss as it emanates from you. He isn’t interested in drinking it out of glass, just straight from my pisshole, and it is that touching that makes this a very special activity. It also brings feelings to me of a provider / provide relationship, where he is eager to feed from me and I am eager to provide, a bit like breast feeding I suppose. It is a very emotional thing for us to do.

I’ve mentioned this in a number of places, and very soon, it brings out all the comments about dominance and subservience. It is the norm with acts such as these that it is about dominance, that he secretly wants to be dominated. It must be, after all, why would someone do that?

Someone would do that because they love the connection with their partner, the emotions, the sensations. I wasn’t expecting to get an amazing emotional connection from it, but I do. I really don’t know why, but it makes me feel loved. It is much the same for him. He is amazed someone would want to piss in his mouth in such a way, and it makes him feel loved too. He has a thing about liquids emanating from my body, and it had to be not be messy so we can just do it at a whim.

It is one of the things that annoys me about a lot of kink related places; the assumption that an act is always about the same thing for everyone that does it. Whilst for many, it is about dominance and subservience, for us, this is an act about connection, about love, and yes, about drinking from me and of me. There isn’t an ounce of power games in our relationship, yet everyone thinks there must be.

After all, him giving me a dose of anal at 6 in the morning whilst I’m not really awake must be about him exerting power over me. Us playing games where I try to hold onto my piss until it is so painful must be about him exerting power over me. Me pegging him and trying to get his ass to take a larger dildo must be about me exerting power over him.

No.

None of it is about power. We love each other and we like doing things to each other to make us happy, give us pleasure and to show how much we love each other. We love doing things where we are intimate, where we are close and I have to admit I have excitement each time I break a taboo like this, even if I’ve done it before.

Of all the things that we do, of all the ways we are intimate, one of those most intimate is when we are participating in watersports. I think many people rule watersports out very quickly, focussing on the whole liquids and mess thing, without realising the intimacy and closeness it can bring.

Another thing people focus on is the whole drinking thing. But it took a couple of years to progress to that, and even now, I don’t drink it often, but it does not detract from my love of watersports. In fact, the most intimate watersports position doesn’t involve drinking piss at all; he sits on the floor on some towels, legs together and straight out and cock and balls resting on top of his legs. I sit on his lap facing him, arms around his neck, my face very close to his and my cunt quivering just above his cock. In this position, we can kiss very passionately, and when I’m ready, I can release my stream and it will land on his cock and balls. The training to hold my piss for a long time and to have a controlled release means the pissing and kissing can go on for quite a while. It is so intimate. We quite often carry on kissing long after the pissing has finished. I don’t want the situation to end.

A variant of that position is to rest the tip of his cock up against my pisshole, so that my piss has to force itself past his glans. If he is partially hard, we’ve found that he can hold his position against my stream, and this means that my piss sprays around and covers both of our crotches. That spraying is a joyful experience, but the positioning is hard to get right.

We’ve even on occasion managed to get me pissing whilst his cock is firmly buried in my cunt (in another variant of the same position). That is quite a difficult position mentally, as my brain wants to go sexy, and that invariably stops my piss from flowing. But the feeling he got was amazing: a focussed powerful jet of piss on the area of skin directly above his cock, again with the ricochet liberally covering both our crotches. I could feel the effect it was having making him harder, although that made it harder for me to carry on too.

Watersports gives us a level of intimacy that it is hard to surpass, and it has surprisingly become a big part of our emotional connection.

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