The Sex Lives of KinkyMira and Friends

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

Tag: Consent

Centenary Orgy

6 November 2022 /

I was starting to get really excited. I had been planning this for months, especially to celebrate my blogging centenary. I always planned to have a massive sex party to celebrate the half-centenary, but fate intervened and that didn’t happen. So, many months ago, I decided that we had to have a party this time.

But, as we got nearer to the hundredth post, my thoughts began to change a little. I realised that what I really wanted to do was to celebrate the amazing women that have appeared in this blog, women who all love sex, who embrace orgasms, who really go for it sexually (even if they aren’t really sure how things might work out), and who defy the stereotypes or societal norms meant to keep women in their place (sexually or otherwise).

In this blog so far, we’ve named twelve women, some I don’t know, many I do, some from recent times, some longer ago. But all the women mentioned here are amazing, because of their attitudes, because of their love of sex and sexual adventure, and because they are, for the most part, up for giving things a try. This blog is fundamentally about women, and so it does seem fitting that the centenary post is about women too.

For the most-part, the men referred to here are part of the women’s stories, and in making the posts about the women, I somewhat (and a little deliberately) downplay the men. I wanted to maintain this female focus, as so much of what is out there is about and aimed at men; I wanted something to be about us.

That having been said, there is one man whose story is intricately woven into this blog. I never intended to have stories of women my husband fucked, women I’ve never met, but a lot of the stories seemed to fit my female viewpoint of the blog. So, you are reading more of my husband’s story than I ever intended, and therefore, I think it wouldn’t be appropriate to exclude him from the centenary celebration altogether.

Over a few weeks, a plan coalesced into view, a plan centred around and staring the women, but with a small, sustained part for my husband, a part that he would never forget.

This very special party happened a couple of weekends ago. It was an all-girl party (apart from the cameo from my husband), where anything between the women went; masturbation, oral, strap-ons, tits, asses, cunt, whatever. The only request I made of each and every woman was that if they came, they wouldn’t hold back. They’d just take full advantage of the other wonderful women in attendance, all willingly, all in fun, all with love, all for the O. I guess I was thinking orgy, where anyone was game for anything with anyone.

And this is where it was quite an ask, because a number of the women didn’t actually know anyone else there in reality, only from the pages of the blog (although I can tell you now that some people there haven’t even been published in the blog yet).

If I’m honest, I’m amazed some of these wonderful women accepted the invitation, given what was expected of them. They are kinky bitches the lot of them, getting kinkier all the time. All the women were naked below the waist for the entire evening, and then totally naked for the second half. Nakedness in front of women in a social setting was a freedom that some were enjoying for the first time. I loved seeing so many beautiful cunts all on display, totally without shame and not a single attempt to hide anything. It was a beautiful liberating expression of womanhood, and one I will remember for a long time.

And I loved what we got up to, the sheer joy of sharing our sexual voyages with other women, of women (one had never been with another woman) allowing themselves to be taken to sexual crescendo with enthusiasm and without doubt or shame. There was so much bodily contact, including groping and pawing of tits and intimate and intrusive examinations of cunts and assholes. There was an abundance of masturbation, either solo or each other, singly and in groups. There were even a number of strap-ons deployed for use on cunt and asshole, with an astonishing amount of lube consumed in the process. Amazing women doing amazing things in the pursuit of amazing orgasms.

Not one of the women shied away from any of this: every single one joining in with making others cum as well as themselves. It was a delight, a visual feast. We even shared my husband’s cum loads directly from the cunt involved. That was a total joy too.

But of course, this wasn’t all about him. We had a chart to ensure that all the women got a fair share and to sample everyone, but that wasn’t really needed. The action came thick and fast, and the visual feat of all these orgasms from all these cunts kept everyone near the edge all the time. Without needing to resort to the chart, each woman masturbated and masturbated others, their cunts were licked out and they licked out others, their ass cracks were licked down and assholes teased, and returning the favour, and their tits were sucked on, pulled, squeezed and generally worked to maintain arousal.

All in all, it was an amazing night, and one totally suitable to celebrate one hundred posts on this blog. For one of the women there, it was her first lesbian experience, and given the enthusiasm of her tongue, the abandon with which she orgasmed and the eagerness with which she tried things with a woman, it certainly won’t be her last.

For some of the women involved, it was the first such party, and as such, their counts of connecting sexually with other females took a major increase.

What was particularly magnificent was those that had not met anyone else at the party (apart from my husband, but he was hardly in a position to help) came and just got their cunts out and joined in wholeheartedly. I could not have expected more, and yet they delivered. What totally wonderful, determined and up for anything women they are. I suspect it won’t be the last time I get to taste their cunts too; if the party is anything to go by, they seem to have acquired a taste for it. What a dream situation I’m in at the moment. I’m so lucky to have access to the magnificent cunts of so many wonderful women, and I really can’t get enough.

And then, there was my husband’s cameo. A small yet important part in proceedings for the women, and yet a fully immersive experience for him, crossing off one of the few items on his list that he has yet to do. When you read about his cameo in the next blog post, it is important to remember that some of the women in the room had never done anything like this before. Stage fright could have curtailed their involvement, but it didn’t happen, and all the women took a full part with him. And he’ll never forget it. The women probably won’t either, but a centenary party that introduces people to new things, that changes their lives forever and that creates memories that will never fade is a perfect way to celebrate.

Here’s to the next one hundred blog posts (and the next few cunts I get to taste!)

So We Weren’t Too Drunk To Be Fucked (50th – Part Four)

11 July 2020 /

I finally got my husband’s write-up of our drunk fuck in my hands, and Victoria was eagerly looking over my shoulder to read it at the same time I was.

I was worked up, I was in a sexy mood, and excited as I read the first line. “Well at least you didn’t throw up or piss in the car.” Cheeky fucker. Mind you, we were that drunk, it wouldn’t have surprised me if we did. We barely got into the car and took a couple of minutes to find the seatbelts, giggling the entire time.

I snuggled up to Vicki on the back seat of the car and I got a good strong dose of parfum de cunt. I buried my head between her thighs and started licking away at what I could reach of her cunt. She opened her legs to help and that allowed me to get my head further down and my tongue further in. As the thing mostly in reach was her clit, even in her drunken state, she was going to cum, and she played with my hair whilst I got her there.

After she came, Victoria started begging my husband for our expected fucks, whilst I tried to sound authoritative, reminding him of our consent and demanding cock; authoritative doesn’t work when you’re pissed.

When we got home, he had to help us out of the car and almost had to carry us in, one at a time. I was first, and he took me straight to the bedroom, stripped my dress and bra off me and rolled me on to the bed (so I ended up naked and face up).

He returned a couple of minutes later with Vicki in his arms and stood her at the foot of the bed. She lifted her arms to have her dress removed, then as he pulled it off, she collapsed and she fell face forwards, her top half falling onto the bed, her face being near my cunt.

When she finally spotted my cunt, she drunkenly started licking. It wasn’t her best licking effort; she didn’t get in rhythm, but she gave it a valiant go. He offered his cock to my mouth as Vicki was licking, and I swallowed it in and started sucking. It wasn’t a particularly focussed suck either, but it got him hard, which was useful.

He went behind Vicki, picked her up off her knees (by putting his hand between her legs under her cunt and lifting). Once she was standing up, bent over with her tits still resting on the bed, he drove his cock into her cunt. He rightly assessed she would be slick enough without warm-up, so he held onto her hips as she was bent over and just rhythmically fucked her. She had a smile on her face but was otherwise not that responsive. He was surprised, as he thought the chances of making her cum were non-existent, yet she got louder and louder and eventually came, and he did almost immediately as he was fighting to hold on.

He withdrew his cock and returned to my mouth to give me a taste of her cunt. As I sucked, I put my hand to my cunt and started fumbling around there. After a couple of minutes, Vicki seemed to notice, so she moved my hand out of the way, and she started fucking me with her fingers, and licking at my clit, and this time, she got enough rhythm to make me cum, although it took some time to get me there.

My husband stood watching the show and bringing his cock back to life. It didn’t take much.

He clambered onto the bed and lined his cock up over my cunt. Vicki stopped playing with my cunt, parted my cunt lips and moved her head back a little, allowing my husband to insert the tip of his cock between my lips. Then she let go and he deeply filled my cunt with his cock. I apparently sounded quite desperate when I said, “Fuck me, fuck me” and my husband started long steady strokes with his cock, meaning I went from nearly full to nearly empty every second or so.

Vicki moved her head again so that with every stroke, her tongue ran over his balls. This made him particularly hard and particularly big. It was a long hard fuck, as he was fresh from cumming in Vicki’s cunt, so he could last a very long time. And I just lay there and took every stroke, every inch, every throb. He said it was really obvious that I wasn’t responding as I usually would (as our regular sex is very emotional), and he felt like he was really using me as a hole. But use my hole he did and eventually, with the help of Vicki’s tongue on his balls, he managed to both make me cum and cum himself.

He then wiped his cock on my outer flaps (something that would make me feel quite degraded when I’m not drunk), and then he climbed off me.

Vicki started trying to move, and my husband went to help her up onto the bed properly. As she finally laid face up, she moaned slightly and started to fidget, particularly around the middle part of her body. My husband watched her distress for a minute, and then had a brainwave.

He gently pressed on her bladder, and it felt as hard as iron. Yes, the poor girl was distressed because she needed to piss. In a good piece of planning before he left, he had put protective coverings on the bed “just in case they were needed.” So, he opened her cunt flaps to reveal her pisshole, told her to just go ahead and piss, and pressed harder on her bladder to encourage her. He loves pressing on a female bladder, as normally, the muscles are not strong enough to stop piss forcing its way out.

But this time, there was no resistance at all, and he got to watch with delight as the piss flowed steadily from her pisshole. She seemed to not try to stop it; she just smiled in relief as her piss flowed. He pressed on her bladder a couple more times to ensure it was emptying.

There she was, Vicki the professional lying naked in her own pissy bed. The juxtaposition was delicious. Her piss was seeping over my side of the bed, and I started to try to roll away from it. He gently pushed me back so that my right ass cheek was firmly in a pissy bed, and he lightly held me down by the bladder. He opened my cunt flaps too, and then pushed harder down on my bladder. I squirmed a little, but he kept steady pressure on my bladder and copious amount of my piss joined Vicki’s on the bed. When I was empty, he left us in our drunken dozy state surrounded by our piss.

Three hours later, his cock had recovered and he was ready for some anal. He is quite used to turning us over when we are asleep, as sometimes we need turning over for a lazy anal session. Neither of us stirred much as he flipped us over, so he lubed up my asshole, inserted his cock and fucked me and came. I barely reacted.

Once he had removed his cock, he roughly inserted a substantial butt plug and left me there. He came back another hour later to do the same to Vicki, and as you know, he returned later to swap our butt plugs over and then to talk to us once we awoke.

It sounded amazing. Shame we were too drunk to remember.

Too Drunk To Remember (50th – Part Three)

5 July 2020 /

A friend of mine some years ago told me that she loved drunk sex. We’re not talking about the odd glass; we’re talking about proper intoxicated stagger home type of drunk. When she went out with the girls and her partner was staying at home, she would expect him to fuck her when she came in (whatever state she was in), and she gave him explicit consent to do so before she left.

There is a specific fetish for drunk sex. It isn’t the licence to go and pick up drunk people and rape them. It is for known and trusted people to agree in advance of getting drunk. I had wanted to try it for ages, but I rarely get drunk.

Well, I remembered this fetish when Victoria and I were planning to go out and get pissed, and we discussed it at length. We both ended up telling my husband we wanted him to fuck us when we returned home no matter what state we were in, and we very explicitly and precisely gave him consent to do so. If we said no at the time, then he should respect that (and he would anyway), but if we encouraged him or even if we didn’t object, then he was to go ahead and fuck us however he pleased.

My husband was a little hesitant, but he had to concede that if we wanted some drunk sex, there was no other way to give our consent, and given how categorical we both were, he agreed to give it a go. To be honest, I see it as only a step on from sleepy sex. We all have sleepy sex regularly, and we’ve given blanket consent for that beforehand. This is just a little more controversial, a little more taboo.

Well, I was so drunk that night I didn’t know how we got into the right car, how we put on our dresses properly, or even how we were able to stand. (Turns out Vicki didn’t remember either).

The first I knew after sitting naked at the table in the bar with a glass in my hand and my other hand smelling of cunt was emerging from my slumber. My head was being torn apart by a searing pain; it is at times like this that I remember why I don’t get drunk very often. I started opening my eyes, but it was so bright out there. I closed them again and tried to focus on what I could feel.

I was face down on a bed and my ass was filled with something. It was comfortable and very filling, so I am guessing one of our butt plugs. I put a hand back down to my asshole and felt the plug and I think I knew the one it was. I felt around it and I was a sticky mess. I scooped up a little of the stickiness and brought it to my nose to smell. It was a mix of lube and cum. Clearly, I’d been ass fucked as well as plugged.

My mouth was a little dry, but it tasted of Vicki’s cunt. That must have been after we left the bar, as I had rinsed my mouth out with plenty of cocktails after I licked her in the pub toilet, and I don’t think I licked her later at the pub. Fingers yes, tongue no. I smiled and sucked the stickiness off my fingers.

My mouth may have been dry, but the bed under me was wet. Very wet and cold. I couldn’t tell if I’d pissed the bed or squirted, but at least I could feel I was lying on towels.

I put my hand down to my cunt and scooped up stickiness from there. That smelled of my cunt juices and his cum. Good, he fucked my cunt too. I hoped he had enough for Vicki too. As I sucked on my fingers again, I wondered how Vicki was. My mouth was still dry, but now tasted of Vicki’s cunt, my ass, my cunt, and his cum. Yummy!

I tried to open my eyes again, and as they adjusted to the bright light, I could see we were in her bedroom with a naked Victoria face down on her bed next to me. I checked the stickiness from her asshole, and I gently moved her to scoop up her cunt stickiness to check and she had indeed been both cunt and ass fucked, and she had a butt plug in too. He had certainly been thorough, and I was content that we had clearly been suitably fuckable, even though we were so drunk.

I must have drifted off again, in amongst the head pain, as I next started to arouse as I left someone messing with my butt plug. They roughly removed it and shortly after inserted a different one (I could tell from how it felt that it was a different one). They fucked my asshole with the butt plug for a couple of minutes, before pushing it home and leaving us alone again.

At some point later, I had emerged from my groggy slumber and was looking longingly at Vicki, who by this time I loved enormously. My head was still trying to explode, and I still didn’t have enough energy to move out of this damp patch, which was pretty widespread. As I gazed adoringly, Vicki fluttered her eyelids as she started to come around, and she saw my contented face lovingly looking back at her. She smiled, and looked lovingly at me, before asking whether I knew how he’d fucked us. I told her what I knew, and she had a big smile. She said her mouth tasted of my cunt, so she’d clearly licked me out too, and she was in a damp patch on towels as well.

My husband must have heard us, because he came into the room, and he looked more than a little happy with his efforts. He asked how we were, and we both explained about our searing heads. He didn’t have much sympathy (and neither would I if I had been in his shoes).

I asked him what he’d done to us after he got home, but he said I’d have to read his fuck diary to find out, and he said I could use his fuck diary to write a blog post. He said we both did well though, considering just how drunk we were. That was infuriating, but the tease of being fucked and not knowing the detail is a part of the fetish, and the intrigue does add to it. We’ll find out soon enough.

He told us that it was afternoon already and he had to go back to work in a couple of hours, and he was going to ass fuck us both before he went. It felt good with him being a bit commanding. I told him my asshole is available whenever he wanted, and he stroked my hair and said he knew. Vicki reiterated that hers was too, for both of us, and I stroked her hair as she said it.

I really don’t know why I enjoyed it. I felt happy as soon as I came round, happy with that satisfied feeling. I will be interested to read what he did to us, but I know it was good and I know we’ll do it again at some point.

Changing Thoughts On Consent

14 July 2019 /

Prior to being with my now husband, I very much believed in the strict implementation of consent. You know, fresh consent every time, no blanket, long-term, advance, or enduring consents can be given, you can’t consent when you are drunk (by definition), all that.

So, the night we got together, on about the fourth time he snogged me, he cupped my clothed breast as he leant in. In other circumstances, I might have objected, but I was so desperate for his touch. I had realised I wanted him a few months before, and I was so glad that he finally touched me even slightly sexually, and I was keen to encourage him. I had known him for a number of years before we got together, and in that time, he was the perfect gentleman. Never an inappropriate touch or word.

I also know from discussions before we got together that he was very aware of consent issues and was normally over cautious. I didn’t want him to be over cautious, I wanted him to touch me sexually without concern for whether I wanted it. I did want it. Whatever he wanted, I’d do it. Five seconds after our first kiss I’d have fucked him if he had wanted.

He left his hand on my breast for a couple of long snogs and a bit of conversation, and then he moved it off, and I was a little disappointed. So, after a short period, I moved his hand back onto my breast, the clearest signal I could give that I wanted it.

And he took the hint and touched my clothed tits and ass regularly over the course of the evening, as well as my hair and face as I looked adoringly at him. It felt so good. From that day to this (with some encouragement in the early days), he touches me a lot, mostly my tits and ass, but he also strokes me, my arms, my hair, my back. And my cunt, oh how he touches my cunt. To this day, his touch is electric and fabulous, and I crave it and miss it when he doesn’t touch me up for some reason. I used to see women getting groped by their men in shops, and I used to think they needed to get some self-respect and claim their bodies back, and now here I was desperate for him to do that to me (and he now often does). I feel like when he touches me publicly, he’s saying, “she’s mine, hands off” and that makes me feel very happy. My views on touching me up have definitely changed.

On the third day we were together, he kept popping round to my place during the day between appointments, and every time he did, I got my tits out for him to play with. (I think the last time I was a little too quick, and therefore would have flashed them at anyone in the street.) I was again encouraging him, making him want me more and feeling his mouth round my nipples and his tongue flicking across them was amazing. I knew he loved my tits from long before we got together, so I knew he would be only too eager to play with them and finally to get to suck on them.

Over the coming weeks, I consistently gave him the blanket consent message to touch me however he pleased and to do whatever he wanted with me. Now obviously on any given occasion, I could have withdrawn consent (even though I never did), but from a consent perspective, I was uneasy. I didn’t believe in blanket and enduring consent, even to someone you are married to, and yet that is exactly what I was doing: not just long-term non-specific consent but encouraging him to take me as he wanted. I was conflicted because I fucking loved the results, and I knew I should have been horrified.

As our relationship blossomed, he started to get more adventurous with me (and all without me explicitly giving consent). When he started putting his hand under my clothes and touching my tits or cunt, far from objecting and as an automatic reaction without giving it a thought, I opened my legs to give him better cunt access or leant forward to allow him to pull up my top and unhook my bra. When he started moving my panties aside to gain better access to my cunt, I encouraged him to work my clit hard. When he started removing my panties all together without asking or checking, I loved how owned it made me feel.

I’m not really sure he realised what he was doing, but he kept gently pushing the blanket consent boundaries, fucking me, and getting kinky with me as he wanted. I should probably have been horrified, but instead, I basked in the warm glow that blanket and enduring consent with him was the best decision I had ever made (often a short-lived feeling that was replaced with the bow wave of an orgasm).

I even told him that I expected him to fuck me when I was ill or drunk. I often want a fuck if I’m drunk, and because the consent situation is difficult if you are drunk, I made sure he knew he was to fuck me if either he or I wanted it. I’m not a very good patient (I get very down), so fucking me when I’m ill is important as it improves my mood and therefore improves my recovery. We sometimes jokingly call a fuck “my medicine” and him cumming in me “an injection”.

It’s not all one way either. I do similar things to him too. I regularly masturbate him to wake him up (before riding him to get his large cock cumming in my cunt). Luckily his cock seems to have a mind of its own, so I get to ride him when he’s ill, and he’s still able to be ridden when he’s a bit drunk (not massively drunk, but given how much he needs his car, he never gets that drunk). I quite often play with his cock and balls when we are cuddling up, or when he’s doing something in the kitchen.

You see, he had no such qualms about consent. For him, from the first time I played with his cock and balls, he made it very clear that I could do whatever I wanted, and we’ve proved that over and over again.

So, my thoughts on consent have definitely changed since being with him. I don’t believe you should hand permanent consent out to just anyone, but where your partner clearly demonstrates over and over again that they look after you and adore you, I have come to the conclusion that blanket and enduring consent is a good thing. I know if I say stop to him, he’ll stop. That’s all I need.

So, in short, I have broken my own rule and given him blanket long-term permission to fuck me whenever, wherever, and however he likes. I love being his plaything, I love not knowing what he’s going to do to me, I love just being used like a slut, often with him taking charge and just doing what he wants.

So, if I’m lying there and he wants to lick my cunt, he’s going to lick my cunt. If he wants to bend me over the arm of the settee and fuck me, he’s going to bend me over the arm of the sofa and fuck me, and I consent to it all, every last touch.

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