The Sex Lives of KinkyMira and Friends

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

Tag: Lesbian (Page 3 of 4)

Carla Finally Sees Me (Part Two)

28 July 2025 /

Carla, the curvy, sexy, sassy, pretty, big-titted lesbian barmaid from our local was taking me to her home to fuck me. We walked back to Carla’s place arm in arm, just a road away from the pub, this tiny stone cottage, one bedroom, immaculate inside. She closed the curtains at the front (leaving the ones overlooking the woods at the back open) and then came up to me and just pulled up my skirt onto my hips. She leant in to kiss me slightly from my right, her left hand on my ass holding me in position, her right straight to my cunt, fingering my folds for only a few seconds, before plunging three fingers into my already slick cunt. She started driving her fingers in and out, her thumb squashing my clit with each stroke. Harsh, raw, at speed. She felt my body tense, and she drove through my movements, and way too soon, I doubled over and came. She moved down with me as I bent down, to keep her hand in contact with my cunt, doing some shuddering hand moves to milk my orgasm, before she removed her fingers and put them to my mouth. I always love tasting my juices, so I eagerly took my fingers into my mouth and sucked them clean.

She had a big, evil, wicked grin, amazed just how quickly and how hard I’d cum. She realised just how worked up I was before she even touched me. Not wanting to give me chance to recover, she bent me over the sofa arm and lifted my skirt up over my ass. I heard a gasp. She’d obviously seen the temporary tattoo on my ass cheek. It’s the word “Slut” in denim blue and pink. It wasn’t meant specifically for her, I was just feeling horny as fuck from wearing that outfit, and I thought it would be appropriate for whoever got to fuck me that night. Because somebody was going to.

She smacked my ass, once, with her hand, as hard as she could manage, and left me there, slightly stinging bare ass and moist cunt in the breeze, all the time talking in the distance about how I was unashamedly a slut to wear that as a tattoo, to not wear panties, and to just let a random woman make me cum.

And when she returned, she had a strap-on, with a decent sized (but not ridiculously large) realistic looking cock and balls. She lined it up with my exposed cunt, and just drove in. I was sufficiently slick that the cock didn’t need lubricating, she just slammed it in. And pulled it out and slammed it in again. And again.

She was quite mouthy this one, and there was a constant stream of filthy language, berating me, goading me, telling me what a slut like me was likely to do, knowing full well that what she was actually doing would make it happen. Slam after slam, the occasional spank, loads of words, loads of filling my cunt then emptying it, and soon, I was on my way to cumming again.

Carla realised, and started telling me how only a nasty little slut would cum from a plastic cock, and if I did cum, I’d pay the price. Of course, I came very soon, her actions with the cock and the filthiness of her words made it inevitable.

I felt the cock leave my cunt, and almost immediately, I felt a blow from a wooden paddle on my pristine raised ass. Another and another, two dozen in all. I hadn’t seen her get that paddle out. Once my ass was red, fiery, lightly throbbing, she pulled me off the sofa and slumped in it, cuddling me, not soothing my ass cheeks obviously, just contrasting the love of a good cuddle with the burning of a fiery spanked ass.

We started talking, and I saw an opportunity to discuss what she had said to my husband. What the deal was. Carla looked a bit sheepish, and I gently prodded, waving the paddle around and telling her she’d better come clean about what else was said. She closed her eyes, sighed, almost willing herself to get it over with. Opening them again, she told me she’d basically offered herself to him as an incentive to make him let her fuck me. I knew it!

It turns out that she was one of those lesbians that loved women, but still enjoyed a cock occasionally. Her old cock was about to leave the village for good, and she heard of my husband’s prowess in our drunken ramblings, so she offered herself to my husband, hoping that a bartered fuck would end up filling that vacancy too. I checked. All three holes. Separate fucks (to start at least). I just know he’ll fuck her asshole first. He’s got a thing about fucking assholes first these days.

And as a gesture of good will, she had offered for us both to have messy cunts when she brought me back to him, in full knowledge that he would lick us both out. She would happily let him clear the juices from our cunts, and if we cum before our cunts are clear, so be it, the glint in her eye suggesting she knew full well he’d do his best to ensure we did both cum. Again. He wasn’t going to say no to trying making someone new cum, and I was sure he realised that he’d have a challenge on his hands, as he knew we’d be making each other cum all night and all morning. He’s not one to shy away from a challenge, and if we don’t cum, he still gets an extended cunt licking session. A win win for him, and I was sure he’d be happy with that.

Seemingly deciding to stop talking about my husband and starting to talk about me and her again, she talked about how she wanted me tomorrow night too. If we got on, if I wanted to fuck her again, she wanted him to pair off with someone else again. The free-use group had already been talking about doing a swap that night. Tanya’s husband said they’d be in the mix that time, and there was still a woman spare, so it would suit everybody, and I thought it very unlikely I wouldn’t want to fuck her again.

All this talk of fucking and cunt licking had me going again, and I think Carla realised, because she stopped cuddling me, getting up off the sofa and rearranging me, opening my legs and kneeling between them. I saw her lean in towards my cunt and felt her tongue touch my outer folds, clearing my juices and using her fingers to open my flaps up, to open my cunt to allow her tongue to get inside it.

And as she meticulously cleared all the stickiness, all the glistening slickness from my cunt, plunging her tongue as far in as she could reach (and I’ll tell you that was pretty far – she had a very athletic tongue). Whilst I was thoroughly enjoying her cunnilingual efforts, my brain was working on what to do with her next. She obviously liked it a little nasty, and I was going to deliver, today, tomorrow, next week. The slut hadn’t cum yet, and that was about to change.

Carla Finally Sees Me (Part One)

16 July 2025 /

I first saw Carla not long after I arrived in the village. She was the chief barmaid in our new local, and she was just my type. Big tits that she liked showing off. Nice round ass. Sexily curvy with a gentle sway as she walked. Clothes style of her own that she wore with confidence. Sassy. Strong personality. Pretty face. Very kissable lips. About my age. Lesbian. And single.

I began to dream about fucking her, in fact I’m fairly sure I came unaided a number of nights during such dreams. Initially, me fucking her stayed firmly in my imagination, as we were infrequent visitors to the pub, but as we got more embedded in the community, we spent more time in there and I got to know her a bit. And the more I got to know her, the more I wanted to fuck her.

I didn’t think she’d even seen me, but I turned up one day late to the pub in a dress that was hard for her to ignore. The top part of the dress was fundamentally two pieces of fabric that started at the waistband at the front, went over the shoulders and ended up at the waistband at the back. It pulled tight on my 34H tits holding them in place, but I had significant side boob and the gully between my tits was all on display, and with the tits squashed together, it was a fabulous view. The bottom part of the dress was just as subtle! The dress was so short it showed my suspenders to the world. It barely covered my cunt (I was pantyless as always). It didn’t really cover the lower part of my ass.

To be honest, I don’t know why I wore it that night. It’s very much a sex outfit, in the privacy of our own (or other people’s) homes. I wore a long coat walking down to the pub, and if there had been youngsters around, I wouldn’t have taken the coat off, but in a room full of slightly drunk regulars at near closing time, it was fine, and it did a girl’s self-esteem a lot of good to get admiring and lingering looks.

When I went to the bar, Carla was very much checking me out with her eyes. I think I blushed, and I’m sure her nipples ended up more visible and larger under the thin cloth of her top and bra at the end of the conversation than when we started.

I think she got me slightly flustered because I forgot my husband’s crisps, having to go back to the bar to get them. She gave me his favourites from memory, without charging, then asked me to come back after I gave them to him, as she needed some help with something behind the bar. I didn’t realise. I’m innocent dontcha know. And I was slightly flustered.

She left the assistant barman to run both bars (as there were only a trickle of customers at this point) and ushered me out the back and into a stock room. She put a box of wine behind the door to keep it closed, then telling me she wanted to do this for some time, she just pulled me towards her and kissed me, firm, hard, straight to tongues. My mouth opened on instinct and my tongue joined in, kissing her back as hard as she was kissing me. My hands went to her leather clad ass to pull her in tight, and she reciprocated, putting her hands up my tiny skirt so that her palms rested on my bare ass cheeks. To have her hands on my ass and tongue in my mouth felt so good.

After a fairly long time, we broke, and with hope in her eyes, she told me she’d fancied me for ages and tonight’s outfit was so amazing, she decided she needed to fuck me that night, that she desperately wanted to fuck me. She had done for a while and she wondered if I wanted to fuck her, and if my husband could be persuaded to fuck someone else tonight, leaving me all for her. (She knew we regularly swapped partners, and she knew Rose’s husband had left for a work trip that day, so she knew there was a woman spare). I told her I was hers, so all she needed to do was go over and ask him.

Initially hesitant, but then emboldened by the thoughts of how often we swapped partners, and feeling both sassy and hopeful, she marched straight over, and as she picked up some glasses from the table, she casually asked, in a totally matter of fact way, “could my husband be persuaded to fuck someone else tonight, so she could fuck me?” Before he could answer, Anna’s husband announced that he had decided to fuck Rose that night, and Tanya’s husband said he’d been looking forward all week to make Tanya’s ass and asshole pay for what she did last weekend (no, I have no idea what that was either), and so they wouldn’t swap that night, so my husband was left having to fuck Anna. Now, Anna loves fucking my husband more than fucking her own anyway, and Rose was just happy to have someone to snuggle up to and to fuck that night. (Her husband would be away on the other side of the world for a few weeks, and she was feeling quite low.) So, even though free-use meant the women weren’t given a choice, both women were very happy.

My husband got up and took Carla aside, asking her in earshot of the rest of us what she was going to do to persuade him. There were smiles and giggles between them, and eventually they came back to the table. A deal had been done. Neither of them would say what the deal was, but knowing my husband, it involved him fucking her, all three holes, maybe even on different days. But whatever the deal, my husband and Carla were happy, and therefore, so was I.

They agreed that Carla would deliver me back home at 11am, when she came to open up for lunchtime, and the rest of the men all agreed to swap women back then too, and to suspend all free-use beyond their allocated woman for the night. (Not the first time we’d done that either).

It was all sorted in such a matter of fact way, in a normal volume pub conversation, not hushed tones in secret. It was like we were organising the village litter pick, not organising fucking people other than our partners. Carla left us to start the long process of closing and sorting the pub out for tomorrow.

I snuggled into my husband, but he still wouldn’t give up details of the deal. He just confirmed that he was very happy with the deal and that Anna’s cunt and asshole would have a particularly large and hard cock to take tonight, as he’d be thinking about me and Carla fucking too. He had a twinkle in his eye, a twinkle that left me worried for poor Anna’s asshole, but I left it, as I was too wrapped up in the fact that I was about to fuck this barmaid I’d been fantasising about and lusting after for months.

So, after Carla called time, the others left with their respective fucks for the night. Once they had gone, I flipped my skirt out of the way and sat with my cunt on display for Carla, teasing her, trailing what was to come. She briefly stopped to kiss me and put a hand to my cunt and masturbate it a bit, just a furtive little wank, unspoken but allowed, which enabled her to feel I was already quite slick with anticipation. It was a bit of wanking and teasing, in full view of the barman, whose grin showed his appreciation of my display.

At one point during their tidying, Carla bent over near me, and I took advantage of the leather skirt riding up her ass to put my hand up between her legs. To my delight, she was pantyless as well, and a quick finger or two in her cunt allowed me to feel her cunt was a slick as mine. Neither of us said anything, she just opened her legs slightly and let it happen, but she knew. An unspoken bond.

It was gone midnight before her and the barman had finished, and I spent most of the time with my cunt on display. The grin showed the barman didn’t mind, his regular lingering glances, not quick or furtive, and the bulge in his trousers, was giving away his enjoyment. But that bulge wasn’t for me tonight. Carla’s moist slippery cunt was, and it was clear Carla was enjoying the view too, revelling in the promise of what was to come, and putting on a display was keeping me aroused.

At one point, she whispered in my ear how I was a dirty little slut for wearing those clothes, for having such a slick cunt before she even started, for brazenly showing the barman my overused cunt and there’s only one way for dirty little sluts like me to be treated, and that was by milking orgasms out of them, relentlessly, harshly, with disdain. She pulled away from me, before leaning back to me and whispering one last thing. She’s a dirty little slut too, and needs to be treated accordingly. Oh, she will be.

The Leavers Ball (Part Two)

12 January 2025 /

Melissa and I were spending our last evening together at the university’s leavers’ ball, and we found ourselves in a room full of people fucking. We were focussing now on the all-women couples. For two of those couples, one woman was bent over the table, whilst the other licked at her asshole and down to her cunt, fingering the cunt and working it to make the other woman cum.

One couple of women were splayed out sitting on the desk, rubbing cunts together and using tits to maintain bodily control of their fuckmate. Their movements were mesmerising: rhythmic grinding, making each other make noise and bodily movements that Melissa and I never had. When we tried that, it was nice, it was arousing, but it never made us cum. Their movements made them cum, and hard.

The final couple of women were taking part in an activity that I knew would make us cum. One of them was just bent over a desk, the other one had her hands between the first’s legs and was quite viciously masturbating her, using a diamond of four fingers to penetrate the eager cunt in front of her, a vigorous and forceful fucking motion with the fingers, the thumb continually working the clit and the fingers did their fast in and out motions. With the other hand in the small of the firsts back, the first was pinned down, so there was no room for escape from the fast and forceful hand.

The hand made her cum and cum, its relentless movements pushing her to orgasm after orgasm. I really wanted to be her, to have my cunt as milked as hers, for my Melissa to draw that much juice out of me.

But Melissa had other ideas. She lay on the desk of a freshly cleared space and pulled me up, arranging me kneeling facing down her body. She pulled me into position, and then pulled my cunt down to her mouth. With me held in place by her hands, she started licking at my cunt. It was already slick with juices from the displays of the evening, but Melissa’s tongue was both effective at clearing the slickness from my cunt, but also very good at targetting my clit time and time again. I could feel the orgasm coming, but she was dragging it out, savouring every lick, eventually giving me a body shaking orgasm.

I collapsed as my arms couldn’t hold up my weight, but my face ended up mere inches from her cunt. I could smell the fragrance of arousal coming from it, and it wasn’t long before I wriggled into position, mouth directly over it, my tongue diving in. I felt her hands on the back of my head, forcing my head down, forcing my tongue deeper into her cunt. But instead of licking with speed, I licked slowly, burrowing my tongue into her channel between flicking over her clit. I put my hands over her thighs to keep them bolted to the table, as time after time, I flicked from clit to burrowing in the tunnel. She squirmed, she struggled, but her clamping my head and me clamping her thighs meant there was nowhere for her to go, no escape from my tongue.

I felt a moist wave with a musky odour flood my tongue as her hips tried to buck and rock away, and I accelerated because I knew she was near. And a forceful flick of the tongue was all it took to make her cum and cum, holding my head in place to taste her juices, my tongue never stopping moving across her cunt.

Once she had finished bucking, she let my head go, and I swivelled round, kissing her to let her taste her cunt and for me to taste mine.

But we couldn’t stay there, as there was a queue of people waiting to fuck. Time was passing quickly and it was after midnight when we returned to the bungee running tent, all too aware that our evening was drawing to a close, and all too aware that we were about to go our separate ways. In the tent was a discussion going on with about a dozen women and somebody from the students’ union. The bungee run was meant to be closed, but the women wanted to do one more run each, but this time, totally naked. In the end, it was agreed. The tent would be closed to new entrants and only the crowd still in place could stay. Then we would each get one run naked. I was about halfway down the list, Melissa somewhat later.

As my turn arrived, Melissa helped me to lift the dress off over my head, and she flicked the bra clasp to reveal my 38GG tits to the audience. There was an audible sound of approval as I walked down the bungee lane, my ass swinging as seductively as I could manage. The assistant began loading me into the harness, picking my tits up one by one pulling them through the harness and framing them with it.

Once the straps were tight, the assistant left the lane and I was ready to run. With each step, because of the way the harness worked, my tits snapped violently from side to side. If you were to do this for a long time, it would hurt, but this never is going to take long. I ran for as long as I could (which was still only seconds), before that tug of the bungee cord took me off my feet, my bottom half swung forwards, my legs flailed apart and I was pulled down the bungee run, ending up in a heap at the end. This time, without the dress, my cunt and tits were both still fully on display as I lay there, laughing, but also being fully aware of my display. Eventually, I got up and went over to Melissa, hugging and full on tongue kissing her. Then I put the dress back on and we waited for her turn, watching other tits snap and other cunts fly.

Melissa’s turn was near the end, and we waited for everyone to have a go before starting to leave. It was past 1am now and the event was winding down. As was our relationship. Melissa was leaving for home at the end of her overseas year, and I was finishing with university all together. And Melissa’s taxi was in 4 hours, my lift back to my parents was in 8.

Trying to make this last as long as possible, we decided to make one last trip down the hill to our pissing light, and having emptied our bladders with long and high arches of piss, we walked back up the hill arm in arm, stopping only at the bench halfway up to lick each other’s cunts clean of piss and have a last orgasm (which for neither of us took long).

As we finally got back to our halls, we tongue kissed one last time and then just turned and walked away. I didn’t cry as I walked away, but back in my room, I was in floods of tears. I’d never had anyone like Melissa before, and I wasn’t to know if I ever would again. It felt very much like the end.

Camel-Toe Crazy

5 August 2024 /

When I left for university, I was finally released from my mother’s rule. Those clothes she made me wear, the fear she instilled, everything that stopped me from developing into me, rather than a clone of her. At uni, I had a chance to find me.

Fucking men: that was me. Turns out fucking women was definitely me too. Melissa wasn’t the first woman I had lusted after, but she was the first one that I had kissed and we had paired up quickly after that first kiss. I continued fucking my uni guy (he knew and was turned on by the thoughts of me and Melissa fucking) and she fucked some guy too on and off, but we were both enjoying the lesbian sex more. Between them, I was getting the most sex I ever did until I met my now husband.

But the thing I was having real trouble with was style. I wasn’t exactly a slim girl, but I was shapely, with amazing tits (although I wasn’t best enamoured with them at the start) and a wardrobe full of clothes your granny would wear. Thanks Mum, I’m not you. My clothes were all loose, covering me up, lowering my self-esteem even more than what happened in the rest of my teenage years did.

But by this point, I had a whole posse at uni, not just Melissa, and they were determined to help me find and hone my style. I’m not one for clothes shopping, but with a group on hand, we sometimes went out, trying on various things, using their experience and styles to make progress.

After years of crawling under a rock to hide from everyone, I wanted to break free, to be noticed. I had started by wearing tighter clothes, ones that didn’t hide the fact I was slightly larger than ideal, but the clothes I selected all showed off my curves superbly. I got a kick out of the positive response I received. Being noticed was wild!

On one of those shopping trips, we found a bra that dramatically emphasised my cleavage, and I bought that and a dress that took advantage of it. The cup fabric of this deep-plunge bra was also very thin, as was the fabric of the dress, so my nipples showed perfectly. I was advised to use ice to make them bigger to make absolutely sure they were on display, and I started doing this every time I went out.

Figure hugging clothes with monster cleavage and on display nipples was definitely the way to go, and I got a mega kick from showing off my tits, something I still get to this day. It was the first time I really began to love my tits. I know some women get upset when men talk to their cleavage instead of their face, but I love it and it just makes me happy.

Now, I’m not usually one for trends, but there was one trend that it was suggested would get me noticed even more. It was about ten years since camel-toe had first made it into the Urban Dictionary. What for a few years was a fashion faux pas went to being the height of teenage fashion, then looked down on, and then back into fashion again.

One of the poshest girls in the group showed me a pair of shorts in one of the shops that were pretty obscene if I’m honest. The briefest of try-ons showed their potential, but the full obscenity only showed later; the fabric pulled tight into my ass crack and a long way up my cunt, and I could arrange my flaps to make a fabulous camel-toe. I couldn’t wear panties under them, as it obscured the camel-toe, and as I was doubting the purchase, my posh friend said that if I bought and wore a pair, she would too.

In that same trip, one of the others showed me a top that stretched tightly across my tits, and with my deep-plunge bra, the straining of the buttons across my cleavage meant that a column of enormous gapes ran right down between my tits and with my iced nipples showing, it was a fabulous view.

Pair that with the obscene shorts, I had a killer outfit that hid nothing. This was a new slutty out there me, and I was a hit in the club we went to every week. My body was totally on show, everything visible and I’m not going to lie; it got me groped quite a bit, but I didn’t mind. I was seen, noticed, I was me.

And I fucking enjoyed the groping. Interestingly, whilst I was groped by men, I was groped far more by women. I can’t recall how many women I snogged, full on tongues, many of them resulted in mutual masturbation sessions in the seating booths or even right there on the dance floor. I didn’t know their names, I didn’t much care, I just loved the connections, the kissing, the groping, the orgasms.

It always happened the same way. A handful of ass or tit was grabbed, you were hauled from the crowd and up to another woman’s body, tits got squashed against each other, faces got close and tongues got pushed into each other’s mouths. No subtlety or finesse. Just a long hard snog with tongues exploring each other’s mouths and hands exploring each other’s bodies.

With two whole-hearted participants, hands inevitably headed cunt-wards, initially rubbing on the outside of the shorts; the thin fabric was rough and therefore provided a little friction on the rubbing, which only added to the sensation.

Sometimes that was enough, and focussed rhythmic rubbing right there on the dance floor, the odd rough kiss added, was enough to make a girl cum. The fabric of the shorts didn’t react well to cunt juices, and so, for the rest of the evening, I’d have a damp patch at the front of my shorts. Well, so would the other girl, and that was fine. And then the second girl that started masturbating you put her fingers to some wet fabric and she knew. Although she was normally the same. And wet fabric only emphasised the camel-toe, stickiness making sure the fabric stayed up your cunt.

Of course, sometimes, it wasn’t a quick wank on the dance floor that you were after. Sometimes you wanted to feel hand touch your flesh, finger fuck you, and so, guiding each other, you left the dance floor and headed to what were knows as the cubicles, U-shaped benched seating populated by kissing couples, normally on the way to wanking or giving blow jobs. Sometimes you had to wait, such was the popularity, and the cubicles invariably smelled of cum.

So, there you’d be, sitting in this cubicle, legs spread wide, your buttons undone to show your heaving cleavage to your new friend, obscene shorts round an ankle, whilst your new friend works your cunt with her fingers, targeting your clit quite viciously, rubbing on your cunt flaps and finger fucking you with two or three fingers. You could always see the focus on her face as she looks down at your cunt and the joy she was bringing to it. The good ones made you cum several times and then dropped to their knees and got under the table to lick you clean, and then once clean, it was time to swap places and reciprocate, and you’d end up with hands smelling of cunt and mouths tasting of it. A final hard kiss, swapping tastes as we went, and we’d part in search of the next cunt to wank, frequently to never see each other again after that night.

And often, in the same cubicle was Melissa, who, having seen the success my outfits were, got some of her own. She too had monster cleavage and a fabulous camel-toe, and had similar success with the women at the club. And every time, we had a cubicle session too. After all, molesting Melissa was the reason I started going clubbing.

The club was a bit like a cattle market, only the cattle picked each other. You weren’t fussy. Pretty much any woman who grabbed you was fair game, any cunt to be cherished for that short while, and of course, when we got back to uni, Melissa and I licked each other’s cunts out, not only to taste our juices, but because we’d publicly pissed on the way back up the hill and never dried our cunts.

Because despite all the groping, all the cunts, I was still hers and she mine.

I instigated as much grabbing and groping as I was grabbed and groped. Let’s face it, if I saw a woman in that club that I wanted to kiss or to make cum, I went for it. It’s why most of us were there, on show at the cattle market. I was rarely rejected, and I virtually never rejected anyone. Why would I?

I remember those nights with great fondness. I have no idea how many women I made cum, or how many made me cum. But it was a lot. And more importantly, I felt alive, I felt free. What with the clothes, the kissing, the groping and the care-free orgasms, both in the club and with Melissa, I felt that I was finally being me.

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!)

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