The Sex Lives of KinkyMira and Friends

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

Tag: Kissing (Page 1 of 7)

How Quickly Helen Took To Free-Use (Part Two)

6 May 2026 / / 0 Comments

It was Helen and her husband’s first day of free-use, but it was also our first day officially with our second husbands and their new rights over us women. It was decided that the first evening would be about us being claimed as second wives, as well as every man getting to their first fucks with Helen before the evening was out. It was her baptism of fire. It would be a lot of fucking for her, and then we would retire with our second husbands, for their overnight ownership and use.

But before then, we had to eat and we were seated in a restaurant, at a circular table only just big enough to seat the ten of us. Each man had his wife on his right, and his second wife on his left. And the restaurant was busy, so we couldn’t be outrageous. However, the women each made out with each of the men either side of them, alternating as and when, kissing, tongues, and getting covered tits squeezed and played with, and whilst they were making out with one man, the other was masturbating them whilst kissing the woman the other side of him. The women came, god did we cum, but we had to be quiet and discreet, not wanting to draw attention, although the overwhelming smell of female orgasms emanating from our corner of the room was a bit of a giveaway. Silent cumming is hard, and I think all our bodies shook more because we were holding the sound in.

And so, with the men having cummy hands, and the women leaking cum from their slick cunts, we ate, and the food was good. More masturbation and making out before dessert, and we left before coffee, so desperate were the women for cock, and we were so messy between our legs that dignity was holding on by a thread.

The van hadn’t been moving long, heading back to the cottage, and Anna’s husband couldn’t wait any more, so he bent Helen over, her head resting on Tanya’s lap, her tits dragging across Rose’s lap, and I wanked his cock a little to get him hard, before he ploughed in. I viewed it as her first proper unorchestrated free-use. And it was a hard fuck. He wasn’t hitting the spot for her, wasn’t building her orgasm, but Tanya told her whilst he was doing it that it was entirely deliberate, and she would cum when he was good and ready. This was free-use as its best, and he wanted a long fuck. What she wanted didn’t count. She started to understand. This was about him. She was inconsequential. She was used. She was nothing, and the centre of attention at the same time. Free-use is a head fuck at times.

To make it even more of a head fuck, her tits were soon being pawed and groped (by me and Tanya) and Rose’s husband put a drool gag on her, my drool gag, her husband’s idea to emphasise who is in control, as Helen doesn’t like drool and slobber. The poor girl was clearly overwhelmed, but Anna’s husband kept ploughing on, and Tanya and I kept working her tits, as the men’s plan to break her in to free-use was going well.

As we pulled into the village the cottage was near, Anna’s husband adjusted his position to make her start building to orgasm, to make that rubbing count. Just as we pulled on to the drive, Helen started to scream, her cries muffled by the gag, which was already making her drool all over herself and Tanya’s lap.

The van stopped and my husband, who was driving turned round just in time to see her cum really hard, milked by Anna’s husband’s cock and a hand on her clit.

She had no time to recover from that hard orgasm before we unloaded her from the van, her cunt and ass still revealed by her skirt being over her waist, and only once we got her inside did we remove the drool gag. Her husband was right, she didn’t like it, but she realised, once again, that her opinion didn’t matter and the men would do what they wanted. She knew the drool gag would make a reappearance, and she knew she’d have to endure it. It was a good life lesson in free-use. And later, she secretly admitted to me that although she hated it, she was thoroughly turned on by it. Betrayed by her body. And it won’t be the last time.

Rose’s husband, my second husband, was next to fuck Helen, next to claim her body with free-use. He lay her face up on the patio table, had Tanya and Anna hold her feet up over her head, ankles wide apart to reveal her cunt, and then he wanked her for a bit, fucked her with a dildo for a bit and then, after I hardened his cock up in my mouth, he ploughed into her cunt and fucked her hard, her tits snapping back and forth as he drove in, her feet held in place to keep her bent double and opened up for his cock. She was very exposed and the centre of attention as my second husband made her cum three times before he did. After her second cumming, he ushered me across, put a hand to the back of my head and pulled me in to his face, kissing me hard, and then telling me I was next, and he wouldn’t be so gentle. I told him to bring it on. He smiled and called me a Good Girl, before slamming into poor Helen’s cunt harder. I wished he was fucking me then, not her, but I knew I was next for that wonderful cock of his.

When she came for the third time, and her cunt clamping made him cum, over and over, there was one man left to claim her, my husband, and he announced he was planning to do exactly what I expected him to do. He’s got a thing about his first fuck with a woman being her asshole rather than her cunt, and here was a perfect opportunity.

But before he could get started, Anna’s and Helen’s husbands had a surprise for my husband. Helen’s husband presented his wife with her tiniest pair of panties, a miniscule black lacy thong which happened to be her favourite pair she ever owned. Anna’s husband told her to put them on, so that my husband can fuck her whilst she is wearing them. Helen had commented to Anna’s husband about how she didn’t want to be the only woman in the free-use group without her signed panties from the first time they fucked in my husband’s collection. This solved the issue, he’d get his signed panties.

Once Helen put the panties on, everyone (men and women) took turns to masturbate her, making her cum a number of times into those panties, Tanya’s husband even made her squirt a bit, something she previously hasn’t done much of, all into her tiny panties. Once they were sopping enough, my husband got Tanya and Anna to pull Helen’s feet further over and wider apart than they had been for Rose’s husband, lifting her ass off the table and exposing it more.

My husband moved her panties aside to expose her ass pucker and beautiful dripping cunt (although the panties weren’t really big enough to cover anything), he put a small pillow under her lower back to make her comfortable, and then spent a while just looking, drinking in her exposure, really emphasising the exposure in her head, her tiny panties moved aside, and trash talking to her about how pretty her starfish was and how he was going to destroy it. You could see her nipples get even bigger, you could see her clit break cover from its hood, the signs her body was turned on, and as he started lubing her asshole, Rose started wanking and lubing his cock. The lubing seemed to take for ever, making her wait, making her asshole wait, until she felt his glans press against her asshole.

Helen was a seasoned anal slut, so in no time, her asshole sucked his glans in, welcoming its invader with some moans from Helen. Rose applied a bit more lube and my husband pushed in, steady but firm, and in no time was balls deep in her asshole. And then he started a firm, steady rhythm, fully in, to out up to the glans, then fully in again, firm slowly turning into slams. He got huge, she got loud, neither of them showed any signs of cumming. Rose relubed over and over, as Helen’s anal ordeal lasted nearly an hour, nearly an hour of rhythmic pounds, until they both came, Helen from anal penetration alone.

My husband removed Helen’s panties, roughly and demeaningly wiping her cunt with her tiny panties, and then pocketed them. He’d get her to sign them later, but for now, they were both happy that Helen’s panties would be up there with the rest of them.

Helen was exhausted, happy, claimed by all four men. She’d been cunt fucked and ass fucked, Carla’s big dildo and my drool gag was used on her too. It was quite a night, and it was not yet over, as the men all had to claim their second wives for the night, with each of us being the exclusive property of our second husbands, to be used as they wanted. Even though we were exhausted, and pretty cummed out, we knew we’d get used, we knew we’d be made to cum yet again. Helen’s free-use education continues.

How Quickly Helen Took To Free-Use (Part One)

1 May 2026 / / 1 Comment

Here we were, five free-use couples loaded in a mini-van, for a three hour trip to a remote cottage. As yet, Helen and her husband had not taken part in any free-use. This trip was the start, this trip would change them forever, particularly Helen. Free-use has fundamentally changed all of us women, and the men to some degree. She was next.

Her life had already changed a little. Ever since the day after they agreed to join, Helen’s husband has been giving her Submissive Sodomy, that deep penetrating anal where the woman is not allowed to cum. In fact, on a few days, he’s given it to her twice, one first thing, one mid-afternoon. “Because she needed it.” Whilst she disagreed at the time, she later accepted that he was probably right, and she vowed to take as much Submissive Sodomy as any of the men wanted to give her. She might regret saying that.

She had also lost her panties, her husband distributing them between the free-use men, to get the men hyped up and wanting to fuck her, and to make sure she wasn’t able to wear them again. Like the four existing women, pantyless was expected, was required, was normal. Like the four existing women, her panties would end up being mostly sold.

In the mini-van on the way, the women got all handsy and kissy with the other women, each one of us taking the opportunity to get a first passionate snog with Helen, to grope those magnificent tits and to tease by touching her cunt, aided by her pantyless state. She was enjoying the attention, and she knew, when we got to the cottage, that she’d have all five cocks soon enough.

We all knew this weekend would be hard for her. She would be going from a fuck or two a day from her husband, to a load of cock over and over. As she was the new girl, she’d be centre of attention for everybody, and so whilst the rest of us would get ourselves fucked, she would have by far the most, she would have to endure more sex than she’d ever had over a short period. And she was so up for it. I was first to touch her cunt and it was dripping already. She would so fit right in!

The cottage was wonderful, beautiful both inside and out, remote with no other property in sight, with the nearest road so far away you could barely see the building from it, let alone that there may be naked people fucking outside it, isolated enough we could fuck outside without care or worry, and we would be fucking outside it, we women would be mostly naked when we were there, we would absolutely make the most of the isolation, and as there were five couples and only two double beds, we’d be sharing beds as well as husbands and wives.

When we arrived, we unloaded the van and then took Helen straight onto the patio. We stripped her of her sun dress and had first sight of her wonderful dripping cunt. She was immaculately waxed, freshly done the night before, and after this weekend, my husband would take over waxing duties for her, the lady she has waxing her now is about to leave the area, so the timing was perfect for her.

Her bra was removed, revealing those gorgeous swinging 38H tits, increased in size over the years by having two children, and she was rotated to allow a good view of her ass, she was bent over to accentuate her ass and open her cunt a little between her legs, there for long enough for everyone to take a look. She was then arranged face up on a padded wicker chair, with her legs spread over the arms, bringing her cunt to the fore and even opening it a little for the crowd. She was in this position when my husband formally welcomed them to the free-use lifestyle and asked, for the record, whether they each gave consent for what was about to happen, both now and into the future. They did, eagerly did, and with that, each of the men, including her husband, inspected her cunt, ass and tits, a close precise gentle examination of the new piece of meat they had acquired. All of us women had such an examination, and periodically do again, but the men (including her husband) discussing her cunt, ass and tits as if she wasn’t there, was quite demeaning, and quite exciting for her.

They noted how wet her cunt was already, and it had barely been touched, and her husband said her clit was quite swollen, unusually so.

And with that, without moving Helen from her exposed position, her second husband, Tanya’s husband, got his cock out and fed it into her mouth, where she eagerly put her hands to it, one round his shaft, one squeezing his balls, her mouth being mega slurpy as she eagerly got him hard.

He withdrew when he was hard enough, her mouth briefly staying an empty O shape, but he soon lined up with her cunt (with the aid of a chair cushion or two) and just drove his cock into her slick cunt. She reared up, returning back to position to find another cock by her mouth. She opened wide and eagerly took that, and Anna and I roughly grabbed a tit each and started working it, whilst I looked Helen right in the eyes (when she wasn’t doing eye contact with Rose’s husband, whose cock she was sucking), and with a smile, I just said “Welcome to free-use, you slut”. She sort of smiled, best she could do with a mouth still full of cock.

Rose’s husband eventually removed his hard cock from her mouth, and he came and grabbed me, spun me round and bent me over, opening my legs just enough to put his hard cock between them and into my cunt and started slowly fucking, just as Tanya’s husband was, and one by one, the rest of the men’s cocks were made hard by Helen’s mouth, and then penetrated the cunts of their second wives.

After about twenty minutes of slow penetration, the men, talking to each other to synchronise their efforts, all changed position and accelerated, making sure each of us women were brought to orgasm at roughly the same time, and because they made us wait, because they edged us all, the orgasms were massive each time, a combination of fucking outdoors, the visuals of group fucking and of Helen’s examination, the new couple taking part in the fucking, and the excitement in the air.

And after the women came, and came again, the men came, each one nearly pulling out to deposit their loads of sticky cum just inside their cunts and then each actual wife was fed the cock of their husband, each wife tasting the cunt of the second wife on the cocks in their mouths. (I think we all knew that would be a regular occurrence from now on.) Helen got her first taste of Rose’s cunt. Off her husband’s cock. And it tasted divine, she couldn’t wait to taste it herself.

And Helen knew what cum being so shallow in her cunt meant, that she, like the rest of us, would be having cum sliding out of her cunt all through dinner. The restaurant was booked, Helen just threw her outer clothes on (the rest of us were fucked in our clothes), and smelling of sex, with dripping sloppy cunts, we left for food.

The Sexualisation of Normal

14 March 2026 / / 4 Comments

I haven’t written that much about our free-use lifestyle, other than the big sessions, the parties. But free-use is my daily reality. Over the course of any given day, I’ll probably have sex with three different men, I’ll orgasm at least four times, at least once from anal, and aside from that, my cunt, ass and tits will be displayed and viewed, I’ll be groped and mauled, I’ll kiss loads, I’ll have cock in my mouth, all on their whim, on their timetable, and the result is that I am kept on a sexual high all day.

On Fridays, because I’m the only one of the four women who is available during the day (and the men are normally on end of week work from home days), I get much more free-use than that. All four men normally fuck me twice each, I’ll cum at least eight times, I’ll probably have anal four times and vaginal four times and then add all the other stuff in too. And that’s before I get to the pub to be fucked into the night by Carla.

Fridays are an ordeal. Fridays are a struggle. Fridays are so tiring, such hard work. Fridays are my favourite day of the week.

To really emphasise the use aspect, the men like us to carry on with what we are doing whilst they use us. Holding a conversation is hard, and quite often, if there are two or more women there, they’ll wait until we are deep in conversation, then someone will start fucking each of us. Two people whose thought patterns are being interrupted hold hilarious conversations, but we have to carry on. It is the epitome of free-use.

And I have to say that the fact that we can’t talk about the sex or anything free-use, while it’s happening or afterwards, is really quite hard. It just has to happen, unspoken, unmentioned.

I’ll quite often be cooking, and they’ll bend me over the kitchen work surface and fuck or masturbate me, whilst expecting me to carry on with the actual cooking. That’s not too hard perversely, just don’t try to follow a recipe. Being fucked whilst reading is hard, and I’ll probably have to go back and re-read those pages. Watching TV is fine, although I’ll miss bits. He’s taken to cradling me and masturbating me all the time I’m watching TV, not trying to make me cum, but if I do, he just ignores it and carries on.

This is one of the big parts of free-use for me: the sexualisation of normal. They fuck me whilst I do normal things, like converse, write, type, cook. I get fucked doing things other people do not get fucked doing.

I think the conversation fucks are the most incredible. Making me feel both important and valued in what is said and a sexual object at the same time, valued and subjugated at the same time. To make one feel both valued and cheap in that moment is quite the gift. That normal people can have a conversation without being fucked, and often I can’t, really keeps me deep down submissive. That I can’t watch the TV without being masturbated really keeps me deep down submissive.

That and almost always being topless, pantyless and wearing a very short skirt at home, so that I am not only available for use, but often visible and displayed, expected to be visible and displayed, proud and yet a constant reminder of what I am, a reminder to all us free-use women what we are.

The no panties thing I did years ago, to give him better access to my cunt at all times. The topless and short skirts at home is more recent, as we free-use women got more submissive. It is our version of a typical slave statue display, and allowing our usually hidden body parts to be displayed, consumed by the free-use men, it is itself part of the free-use. If the people in the room are in on the free-use, us women have to sit, legs wide, skirt up and not in any way hide our tits or cunt. We are to be consumed with their eyes, before being consumed in other ways. It adds to our subservient feelings, and is part of keeping us women on a sexual high.

I’m not allowed to adjust my clothes otherwise. If someone (for example) lifts my skirt up to display my ass, I’m not allowed to pull it down again, unless someone tells me to (or someone or gravity does it for me). If I’m clothed, I’m not allowed to get a tit out, but someone else can. My state of dress (or indeed undress) is totally controlled by others. It’s strangely freeing.

As well as not wearing panties, I haven’t covered my cunt for 8 1/4 years. So, no trousers / leggings / tights. I wear stockings and suspenders and skirts / dresses. (There are two exceptions, swimming (although we go to nudist swimming events as much as possible), and the odd sex act (like panty wetting, but that is as he requires and is for our mutual pleasure)).

Bras are a different matter. I have big tits. UK bra size 34H, US 34K. Until recently, I always insisted on wearing a bra to keep them in check. But I’m a sub now, and I’ve known for the longest time that he’d prefer I didn’t wear one most of the time. I wanted him to take ownership of me, and one of the consequences of that was to deal with bras. I now won’t wear one, unless he wants me to.

It feels a lot more sexual to me, going round without a bra, having them swing around and having my nipples show so much, visible and protruding under a blouse. On the odd occasions I do wear a bra, the bra will be one of the quarter cup ones I’ve had custom-made (as manufacturers don’t make them for my cup size), so even if I’m wearing a bra, my nipples are often visible. And my nipples react very strongly to rubbing on clothes, so they are now constantly enormous, hard and proud. It’s all a part of keeping me sexually aroused.

It’s a big change to not wear a bra at times, a massive change, like my massive tits, and being topless round the home and going out mostly not wearing a bra is new to me. And I very soon realised that attention I’d get with mammoth unleashed tits and nipples the size of bedknobs was plentiful and exciting. My husband has all my old bras locked away, like my remaining panties, and I have extremely large, slightly painful, very noticeable, massive nipples for my trouble. And my husband has been pointing out how magnificent a nipple piercing would look displayed on a massive nipple with a thin layer of fabric stretched over it.

I have done and continue to do exercises to strengthen my back, to allow me to maintain better posture with my tits unsupported for extended periods of time, and I wish I’d done them years ago. I used to believe locking up my tits was the right thing to do, but the free swinging and snapping of my tits, the slight pain in the flesh caused by a day of being unsupported, is wonderful. It sounds perverse, but I love it so much, and of course, I can’t hold on to them, can’t hide them, so gravity does its worst on them all day every day.

Honestly, I am truly happy when I go to bed with throbbing tits, a stinging ass, an aching jaw and a messy cunt where cum is sliding out of it. I am in total heaven when that happens, especially all that with him spooning me with a semi-hard cock residing in my ass crack and a hand firmly gripping a tit.

My friend Shae mentioned (on her blog slaveshae.wordpress.com) that our free-use is not a dom-sub arrangement, more of a free-use kind of polycule. It’s a fairly accurate description. When the penny first dropped about my being a full-time sub, I really struggled, precisely because it doesn’t fit within a standard dom-sub arrangement. I tried to crowbar it in, I went round and round in circles. Don’t get me wrong, my husband is a dom, he is gentle, steady sort of dom, born out of being a natural manager, but nevertheless, he has pulled all these little sub things I used to do into one, and he is very much in control of me, and that is exactly what I want, a warm hugging blanket, built on trust, with a man I would walk to the ends of the earth for, but a man who totally looks after me, a man who has my back, has my best interests at heart and a man totally comfortable with using his property however he wants. It feels pretty perfect right now.

But the rest of the free-use men are different. I liked Shae’s use of the word “culture”. The men have rights to us, to use us, to look, grope, fuck, whatever, one, two, however many at a time. I’m sure they are being a bit dommy when they take us, but I’ve talked to them, and they feel more like they are just taking what is theirs, usage by rule, and we have an expectation to be used that they have to live up to.

It’s the women that have been most affected. All four of us are very subby now, and that’s quite a surprise. We are all fairly strong women otherwise, businesswomen, entrepreneurs, good positive female role models. And yet, with the flick of a switch, we’re back being hugely subby, eager to sexually please. Switching between those roles is a bit of a head fuck to be honest. I have the journey home to switch into the correct mindset, and as soon as I get through the door, I have to switch into the correct clothing arrangement to finish the job.

And the other three women are on the same path, at some point along the journey. Even the one that was resistant to being subby has conceded that’s what she is and is embracing it. We didn’t expect that. That’s why I think this is permanent for all of us now. I really can’t see how any of us can back out of this.

We women are not lower in status because of the free-use. We are still equal partners, still equal friends, still valued, still important, still with the same status we always had. It’s just that certain things we’ve signed over to others. Doesn’t lower our status, just changes our mindset and behaviour.

The sex, the control, the masturbation, the display, the relentlessness, the orgasms, the clothes, the penetrations, the carrying on what we are doing is all a part of the free-use experience. The more we’ve done it, the more things like display and masturbation we’ve added in to something that at the start was mostly about penetration, the more overwhelming and all-encompassing it has become, the more intense our experience is. The men have completely sexualised normal.

And we are about to make our free-use bigger and more intense, more sexual. And every single one of the women can hardly wait.

One For Each Year

4 March 2026 / / 4 Comments

I can’t quite believe my husband and I have been together for 14 years. And in those very early days, he groped my tits as if he owned them, he groped my ass like he’d never groped another, he filled my cunt over and over with hard, girthy cock and thick, sticky cum. And I loved it. I was his. I wanted him to take me over and over. And he did. Two and three times a day he fucked me, my cunt got very used to being filled very quickly.

My first period came, and far from slowing down or stopping fucking me because of it, he fucked me more. I always craved sex during my period and he was the first man to oblige. And we barely cleaned up from one lot before he was in me again, my bloody cunt being a magnet for his hard cock. And each time he did it, it felt that he took me again. His blood-soaked cock was in me, no matter what, taking me no matter what. I loved it. I was still his.

And then my cunt got a little uncomfortable. It needed some rest. And so, desperate for him to continue taking me over and over, I offered him my asshole. And he was kind and gentle and understanding, and well versed with fucking assholes, so even the first time, he started slow, but grew to be huge and strong with his thrusts. I didn’t like anal before, but with him, my asshole wanted to be taken, just as much as my cunt did, and I loved it. I was even more his.

Around the same time as the fourteenth anniversary of us being together, it was also the eighth anniversary of this blog. I thought I’d get bored of blogging by now. I thought no one would read it. I thought no one would like it. None of those turned out to be true. All the writing, all the memories. I’m incredibly horny all the time. My cunt is excited all the time. It wants to be filled all the time. Memory is powerful. My cunt is needy.

Also around the same time, it is the second anniversary of our free-use. I thought we’d get bored of that too, bored of being interrupted, tired of being used. I thought our cunts and asses would be worse for wear for all the sex. I thought someone would drop out or it would fold. None of those turned out to be true either. Over time, we grew to need more cock, we grew to need more use. My cunt is needier than ever.

Even an eight person gang bang didn’t sate it. It’s lust to be taken, it’s lust to be filled was growing more and more, and my asshole wasn’t far behind.

Ever since my husband and I got together, he liked marking and celebrating anniversaries, even sexualising anniversaries that weren’t sexual in themselves. He liked doing things to take me over and over again. I had a lust for a filled cunt, for a stretched asshole. And he always made anniversaries count.

The anniversary of us getting together is always celebrated on our own, just the two of us, emphasising our closeness and bond. But since our tenth anniversary of being together, he’s required me to orgasm the same number of times as the anniversary. This year, fourteen. He’s got 24 hours, but there’s just him. We both have to take the day off work. It is so tiring. Satisfying, but tiring.

He uses a spreader bar to keep my legs spread, to keep my cunt available to his hand, to his mouth, to his cock. My cunt barely has time to recover from cumming before he starts again. It gets so sensitive. My cunt needs him to stop, is crying out for him to stop. He knows the fight I have between cunt and brain. And he knows the brain will win. The cunt will have to put up with it. The cunt craves it really. I have orgasms to have. It has no choice.

And those orgasms arrive, as sure as night follows day. He forces my cunt through its refusal, til that orgasm builds again, til my cunt spasms again, gets wet again, sometimes even squirts. It gets milked again for every drop of girl cum, every drop of squirt.

It’s relentless. He’s relentless. I love relentless. My cunt loves it somewhat less. Still, it doesn’t have much choice.

And this year, we mirrored that first evening when we got together. We went out for an Indian (although this time, I had his cum dripping out of my cunt all the time we were eating). We watched a comedy DVD (the same one as fourteen years ago, although this time, he played with my cunt, he wanked me the entire time we were watching it).

Then we kissed, properly snogged. Although this time, the snogs were accompanied by hard wanking. I came mid snog. One of the fourteen. He didn’t stop snogging me. Or wanking me. I was his. He was doing as he wanted. And my body loved it. My cunt loved it.

Right throughout the day, more often than not, my cunt was filled. Cock when it was able, fingers or dildos when it wasn’t. I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t think. I was just a creator of wetness in his hands. I had no will. I just did as he wanted. My cunt just did what it was told.

I can’t explain how overwhelming it was, how much he just played my body like an instrument, over and over on a whim. It’s almost like he was reminding me every second that I used to think I was a one and done girl, reminding me that he made me this way, made me crave his cock, made me cum over and over. I felt like I was just about hanging on, doing what he wanted, proving again that I was his.

I had lost track of where I was, what my cumming tally was. I didn’t have to worry. I knew he’d get me the fourteen. But today was all consuming, today was wanking for wanking’s sake, today was planned to keep me sexually on the edge for the entire day. And my body had no choice. My brain wasn’t going to make him stop, he wasn’t going to stop.

As my cunt came again, just by his fingers this time, he shot me a loving smile, before ploughing four fingers into my cunt again, vigorous, powerful. I threw my head back and closed my eyes, crying out as he milked my tired and overused cunt. I heard a “Just one more, slut” from his soothing voice, my cunt’s ordeal was nearly over.

He briefly stopped whilst he pulled me onto his lap, his erect cock impaling my already lubed asshole as I sat, his hands reaching round my body to both continue the four finger cunt fuck and grope and paw at my already tender tits.

The filth being spoken into my ear, the aching and throbbing of my tits, my asshole being stretched by his still enormous cock, his four fingers filling my cunt and abusing my clit as they fucked it. It overwhelmed me yet again, and I came, hard, extended, not even allowed to finish that orgasm until his fingers decided. He dragged it out. As I stopped cumming, I came up for air.

It wasn’t just fourteen orgasms, it was almost the entire day of being masturbated, groped, tits manhandled, cock in all three holes (often with neither of us cumming, just for the penetration). I couldn’t settle, couldn’t relax even for a second. I was kept on that sexual high all day, I was kept on a submissive high all day (even in the restaurant, he managed it, not least through the cum trickling out of my cunt all the time I was there, my blouse being slightly more open than I’d ideally have liked and the fact that I had a sizeable, slightly uncomfortable butt plug in). I was even penetrated whilst I prepared the other meals of the day. There was literally no rest.

And my poor nipples were punished early on. Manuscript clips, foldback clips, squashing each nipple, the pain of them being applied, fading to a dull throbbing pain, and then the pain of them being removed and the blood rushing back into them. And all the time I endured that, he was masturbating me, almost trying to wipe away the pain with ecstasy from my cunt. Meticulous. Loving. Endurance.

I lost track of time right throughout the day. I lost track of orgasms after the first couple too. The intensity was like nothing he’s ever done. So completely overwhelming. I felt I was fighting just to remain present in the moment, and sometimes I didn’t succeed. Sometimes I drifted away, only to be brought back by an orgasm.

And once I’d had fourteen, and they were fourteen hard orgasms too, once the time slipped past midnight, he put me to bed, intending me to be alone to recover. I cried. I didn’t want him to leave me. So intense had the day been that I wasn’t emotionally able to be alone.

So instead, he spooned me, gripping on to a tit as he often does. It was familiar. It was comforting. It was what I needed. I finally slept, happy, sated, owned, his.

His Late Night Panties Girl (Part One)

7 February 2026 / / 4 Comments

Louise was worried. My now husband, the man who had fucked her last night, fucked her better than anyone before him ever had, the man who she had chatted with online every night for months, wasn’t online tonight. She was worried he’d decided he didn’t want her to talk to him, didn’t want her to fuck him. With sex so great, she wasn’t having that.

In stark contrast to the previous night, she had taken hours getting ready. The perfect clothes (just a touch slutty), the perfect hair (loose, but clipped out of the way so it wouldn’t brush her face as she fucked), the perfect make up (light touch), not a hair out of place anywhere (she had got her best friend to shave her cunt and ass, making it even smoother than last night). She had a cleavagey bra, hold up stockings and tiny red panties, pre-used off her floor. She thought the panties would really underline why she was there, and would look really nice on his floor instead. She sniffed them before settling on them: they had a slight fragrance of her cunt, despite not being worn for some time. The smell of her own cunt turned her on. Wasn’t it normally men that got turned on by the smell of a juicy cunt? Anyway, she hoped he would appreciate the sheer tininess of them, and given how excited she was, she thought they would have a stronger fragrance by the time he got to handle them, and she hoped he’d love it.

She strode purposefully across the campus to his college, her cunt moistening as she got closer to his college, closer to his cock. But she forgot it was after midnight, and the college was closed, access only for residents via the porters, and she wasn’t a resident.

The porter wouldn’t let her in and definitely wouldn’t tell her which room my now husband was in. She did briefly consider offering him a blow job to get the info, but soon ruled that out. There was only one cock she was getting in her mouth, and it wasn’t a porter’s.

And then she saw him, my now husband, her chosen fuck, walking towards his college at pace. In the dim light of the streetlamps, she saw his face light up when he saw her. He came up to her, put his arm round her waist with his hand grabbing a handful of ass, and pulled her close to him, kissing her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth. She kissed back, her tongue jousting with his. They kissed for a few minutes, before breaking and after he invited her in, they retreated into his college room, past the porter she didn’t need to blow, and past a row of girls on their knees giving blow jobs to a lucky row of male students sitting on a bench seat on the landing. She briefly thought about them joining the end of the row, but decided that was for another night – tonight, she wanted to be more private.

His room was tidier than hers, and she said so, although that was somewhat of a low bar. With a glint in her eye, she told him she thought there was something missing though. He looked confused, confusion that turned into smirking as she put her hands up either side of her skirt, removed her tiny red panties (whilst not flashing her cunt at him), and with an evil glint in her eye, she ceremoniously with a flourish dropped them on his floor, uttering how his room was now much better. He had a big smile she thought was infectious. This was such a good idea.

She sat on the bed next to him, snuggled up, telling him how she was worried he wasn’t online. She was heartened to hear the reason. He was with Kate, agreeing with her that they wouldn’t fuck in the future now that she had her boyfriend and he had Louise who he wanted to fuck a load more. The man snuggled up to Louise told her he’d freed himself up to fuck her over and over. If she wanted it.

Louise tried to act cool. But she wasn’t. She was overjoyed, her cunt craving his cock and his tongue. She really wanted it. Of course she fucking wanted it.

Losing her cool cover, she blurted out that she wanted fucking every single day. She wanted him cumming inside her every single day. And as late at night was their time, she thought they should fuck late at night. And then first thing in the morning after they wake up together. And then in a gap between lectures. She told him how she wanted to smell of sex in lectures, to have a messy cummy cunt in lectures. She told him she was his, her body was his, her cunt and tits were his, her orgasms were his, her panties were his, as long as he kept fucking her, as long as he kept her aroused, as long as he kept making her cum. She needed a lot of servicing, her cunt needed so much work, it was insatiable. She’d clearly thought about this more than he had. His plan was to just fuck her as often as he could, as many times a day as he could, but he realised she wanted more, that she needed more. He’d unleashed this sexual beast, this orgasming slut who liked her tits manhandled, her ass gripped, her cunt filled over and over. He’d unleashed that, their limited time together making it all the more frenzied, and he was determined to service her how she needed. He wanted that. She needed that.

But he was honest with her: he had just fucked Kate, a final goodbye fuck. Louise went from a bit pouty to very mischievous. Having told her that his cock had another fuck in it, and as it would be a second fuck, it would be long and hard, it dawned on her that his cock would taste of Kate’s cunt juices, and she found herself bizarrely wanting to taste Kate.

Louise grabbed at his cock through his trousers and squeezed and rubbed it a little. It started to spring into life. She undid his belt and button and dropped his trousers to the floor, his boxers following almost immediately. Then, she sat his on the bed, pushed his legs wide and dropped to her knees between his legs. Remembering what he told her about blow jobs, she pulled his tits up out of the bra and dress, using the bra to hold her tits up, and tweaking her nipples to get them hard.

Then, she put his cock to her lips, opening them slightly and running her tongue round his glans. Louise could definitely taste Kate, and she loved her taste. Whilst systematically licking and sucking every molecule of Kate’s taste off his cock, Louise found herself wondering what her cunt tasted like to lick out, and realising why men loved licking women out so much. She wasn’t bi or anything, but did find herself wanting to lick Kate’s cunt. She could dream.

She did dream as she finished working his cock with her mouth and tongue, but his ever-hardening cock woke her up out of the daydream, and jolted her into starting her plan. Operation Stake Her Claim.

She got up off the bed, opened her bag and pulled out a scrunched-up pair of white lace panties and pulled them on, again, not showing him her cunt as she did it. He was a little bemused, but his cock stayed rock solid. Why remove one pair and replace them with another?

These ones she had worn for most of the day, and had wanked herself in them a number of times during the day, dreaming of fucking him again. They were damp, ripe, and very fragrant. She hoped he’d smell how ripe they were, she hoped he’d realise how much she’d wanked into them, she hoped he’d breathe in her intoxicating aroma tonight and in the future. It was all him. She’d wanked over and over because of him.

You see, she had had a really strange idea before she left her room, an idea to put her stamp on his room, to put her claim on him, and it involved her panties. Those dirty panties on her floor. She thought if she wore them again (unwashed obviously – sod that for a lark) and deposited them on his floor, he’d have her dirty panties all the time, something to smell to remind him of her and so be horny all the time, ready to fuck her all the time.

She didn’t really know what she was doing, or why? What made her want to give him worn panties? I mean she loved her panties and she wanted him to love her panties too. She felt it connected her with him, and more than anything, for the time they had left, she wanted to be connected with him.

Although she couldn’t get the thought of tasting Kate’s cunt out of her head, and she didn’t want the second-hand taste of it out of her mouth. She’d never done anything with a woman, but she loved the taste, the idea. Perhaps there was chance of a taste of juicy cunt in the mix.

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