How did this happen? Freedom

A long long time ago my life felt like it was over. I had no future, no freedom, I did as I was told, I barely existed.

Yet here I am, with my body draped over a lovely chap that respects me, head on his chest feeling almost blessed. I’m pondering how unlikely it was that we even met, let alone that we would end up with each other. It’s like he knows what I’m thinking as he says “happy happy happy”, “what are you happy about?”, “that I’ve got you!”.

I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. we’ve been in love for 15 years now, but the last year has definitely been the best. We’ve been vanilla(ish) most of our relationship, with things getting gradually more fun as I learnt to trust again. I learnt to live, and how to be free.

I proposed to him in January, married in June and got collared in September. Since being married I’ve felt such love, protection and acceptance that I suggested that he collar me. Now that sounds strange, finally able to feel free, and I ask for a virtual chain.
But it is not a desire to be chained, shackled or hurt – it’s a deeper level of trust. Husband pretty much owns my soul, and my heart, why not my body too?

It’s a strange feeling of liberation, being collared. I feel stronger and happier knowing that we have such a connection. Even when vanilla types glare at my (very unsubtle) collar and seem disgusted or offended by it, I feel proud. I chose my Husband. I asked his parents permission. I dropped to one fucking knee and told him I wanted him. I married him. I submitted to him. And all as my own choices.

I never thought I’d be here. I truthfully didn’t think I’d live past my early twenties – I escaped from the danger I was in, but I still got death threats. I still had meltdowns and nightmares – part of myself was still there, locked in to my own home and being raped, abused and hurt. I never thought I would have the strength to run. To survive. To make it through the suicidal times. But somehow I did. It wasn’t easy, and I have no idea how Husband coped with me in the early years of our relationship – I know I was a fucking wreck. But now I feel completely over it, safe, happy and settled.

I still pinch myself sometimes, I’m alive and married. Respected and loved completely. I matter and I’m so much more than just a survivor.

I’m HIS.

Bloody good sex 

A few days ago Husband went shopping online after I dropped hints. By dropping hints I mean I put my phone in front of him on the checkout page of Lovehoney. After the kids went to bed we went shopping properly and chose a few more things. A collar for me, fleshlight for him, stockings, a new flogger, lube and specialist fisting lube.
When the parcel arrived poor husband got several “can I open the box” messages from me, “patience Wife!” and “self control Wife!” were among the replies. I bet he was giggling at work with my begging messages.
When he eventually got home he didn’t open stuff straight away but I got my toys in the end.

We went to the gym late that night, with me collared. I was being a bit of a Brat, “I don’t wanna do that” – “it’s going to hurt” and similar, to which I got quietly reminded “if you don’t I won’t flog you” so I did as told, sort of. He made me do monkey hanging bar pull ups, which made my hands blister and ache, I needed slight revenge, so rather than just lifting my legs off the ground, I swung my feet and kicked him in the stomach/chest whilst still hanging. So technically still doing as I’m told here! After a bit more mucking about with exercise we go home (after midnight) and to bed. Not for sleep obviously…

I got the fleshlight on him, I wasn’t sure at first but I think it’s a hit. There just aren’t enough sex toys for men out there are there, it’s mean. Anyhow I seemingly overdid the lube as I wasn’t sure what was correct for this toy, the noises were comedy gold, squealching and bubbling everywhere. His hand wanders to my throat, so I move my chin up in silent submission, and he grabs me gently and pushes down. Not a violent suffocation, a sensual reduction in breathing, taking control. He shudders and wiggles and I go down on him whilst still using this toy on him. I can confirm that got him happy.

I didn’t get my flogging, but I did feel loved, desired and needed as he hugged into spooning, grabbing carefully at my boobs. Normally I hate his snoring, not tonight though, it sounded like grateful exhaustion. Cute chap woke up a few times and adjusted his grip to keep me pulled close. Thank you husband, the love is mutual, it’s not just sex.

Last night
Bloody sex. As I’m sure you know if you’ve been reading my diary, I like fisting a bit too much. Well if you’re a bit blood squeamish, stop reading…. that’s your only warning folks.

It is my period. We are no strangers to shagging during bleeding but I wanted to push things. I want fisting whilst bleeding. A big soft bath towel goes on our bed, and I lay naked waiting. A bit of mutual masurbation and a whole lot of dampness, I catch a glimpse of his Red bloody hand a few times. Blood is a bit of a phobia for me, owing to a nonkink near death experience, so for me this is edge play. It’s more than just a physical wank. He moves down the bed to get into his usual comfy position for fisting. Half of Me wants this desperately, for him to take my fear and turn it into a massive clusterfuck of multiple orgasms and trust. Part of me is terrified of dying, of bleeding to death, of saying goodbye in hospital again. He is respectfull and knows it’s more than sex, way more.

Sadly a combination of gym related pain from overdoing things and possibly the phobia it hurts to much to fully get his arm inside me. I’m disappointed in myself that I can’t do this… but we will at some point. He’s not grumpy or nasty as I call the game over instruction, he moves back up the bed and kisses me hard. His stubble feels like it is ripping my face. Then his hand comes up to my neck. His hand has my blood on it, and he’s carefully stopping my breathing with it. My mind is a ablaze. My blood is being spread on my body, and rather than being terrified I want more. I wish for a moment he was less caring, and he hadn’t stopped the fisting attempt. I want my blood all over my own tits, I want his happy wandering hands to paint me happy.

I keep wanking him as he presses harder with that damp hand on my throat, he stops me breathing long enough a couple of times to feel slightly light headed, and I’m ridiculously horny.
He shoots all over me, warm and sticky, satisfied and messy. He pops to the toilet for a quick wash, I just lay there grinning. I hold him as he sleeps, watch him as he breathes in and out and think about just how lucky I am to have such trust in my Husband. How the hell did I find someone like him? I’m a happy bunny, but too sexually high to sleep.

Fire play

The weekend was fun, we went to a “peer rope” event in the daytime. If you have never heard the term peer rope, think of it as open adult education session, an exchange of rope bondage ideas and knowledge. I got tied by Husband, he’s a total rope novice, which is why we went to learn. I also got tied by a single friend of ours, he’s tied me before, but this time F is telling Husband how he’s doing things – step by step. After some cake it’s time to leave for a play event.
The rope event had been in vanilla attire so it didn’t upset the nieghbours, at the organisers request. The play event is far from vanilla, and they are strict with their dress code. I once saw a guy who arrived in jeans forced to remove them if he wanted to come in, even though he had no other trousers. Lesson of the day, read the dress code. It us about half an hour drive from where we are to the evening play event, and F is following us in his own car as he’s not too sure about how to get there. As husband is driving I get changed whilst driving. From gym leggings, a hoodie and a tunic top into a Hell Bunny dress, stockings, suspenders, high heels and lingerie.F had a puzzled face when we’d all parked up “you weren’t wearing that?” He say and I just grin.

This event is in a nightclub, but it is not open to general public tonight. Just the kinky. We played with fire after some socialising, which meant I had to strip and lean against an A-Frame and promise not to move or my long hair might catch fire. The fire play expert waves flaming torches (like fire jugglers use) over my skin, lingering near my nipples for extra burning. When I say burning, it’s more like scorching than proper burns. Husband is given the torch and shown what to do. The fire play expert is commenting on how tough I am, and how I’m giggling and smiling rather than grimacing, screaming or flinching.

Next up I’m allowed to do the same to Husband. This is fun, I’m an exhibitionist, he’s not, and there he is in black trunks in front of a packed room. Eyes are on us, I get to singe his chest and back hair off. It’s cathartic for me, I hate that chest hair. I didn’t leave him bare chested, but I certainly got a lot of it. I enjoy tapping him with the end of the torch and watching him jump and squirm as I move, like a sort of control game, with a bit of danger thrown in. The torch runs out of fuel and I help him get dressed again as I thank the fire play experts.

I like this game!

What a way to wake up

This morning we were supposed to wake up reasonably early but I was sleepy. I didn’t want to wake up. I was not waking up. Husband shuts the bedroom door and grabs a few toys, my eyes slightly open and I realise his intentions. I smirk in a cheeky way, which basically means “go on then”. 

I as a bit blurry and can’t really remember what happened first, but first thing I was being flogged. A nice gentle (almost tickling) flog. He didn’t stay gentle for long though. The wooden spoon, a spatula, the riding crop, a looped rope flogger, the jute rope flogger, bare handed spanking and who knows what else get used on me. Mainly my back and shoulders, but also my arse and legs for a short while. 

Whilst the crop was slapping on my skin it was hurting but it was a lovely pain. I wanted to tell him to hit me harder, but I didn’t want to speak. I was very happy, in honesty I was having a weak orgasm from the crack of pain. The noise, the feeling… I’m going to have bruises but I’m past caring. I am pretty much begging with my body language, despite being non verbal right now.  I want him.

I start talking, but only to be demanding. I want fisting, I pretty much need that release, I am too wound up. Sex alone ain’t going to cut it, I need more. He does as he’s told, even though people think he’s the dominant. I get him where I want him, cold lube on his arm and I am having fun. It’s my period, so things are a bit more intimate. I lose control, albeit not completely, he is my boss right now. It feels like only a few minutes to me, but I lose all sense of time when excited, then he orders me to move to my knees. If I drop his hand as I struggle to flip my body over he will stop, utter denial. Being left like this IS torture. 

I move slowly and carefully, clenching every muscle I can to keep hold of him. Success, I’m proud of myself, but no chance to celebrate. Barely chance to breath in fact as he rewards my efforts with pretty vicious thrusting. I’m on my knees, face down in our pillows, my hands are down just in front of my head. For a few seconds I wish he would be gentle, but then the euphoric feeling hits and that idea is gone. I’m in sexual heaven, and my fingers are scratching down our leather headboard. I cannot focus on anything, all I can do is scream. He spanks my arse with his bare hand, and my hand wanders to my crotch. I tough myself as he fists me, I’m screaming in pleasure but I want to lose control. 

Husband lets me fondle myself for a short time and then grabs me by my collar, gently at first. Then he pulls harder, he disrupts my breathing and time feels like it is slowing down. The pressure in my lungs, the delightful weakness throughout my body after a long and sustained orgasm, then the dizzy feeling from oxygen deprevation kicks in. Just at the right time he released my collar, I breath deeply and scream in delight.

It wasn’t negative screaming, I’m not worried, I was just very in the moment. He could hurt me badly, in this state I am pretty vulnerable, but I trust him completely, I’ve no need to be afraid. I know that if I shout a safe word he will stop immediately. Trust allows for some wonderful sex that’s for sure. 

When he decides I’ve had enough he pulls his arm from inside me and starts scratching my back with metal claws. My blood is on his hands. It feels like he wrote his initials on my back before going for a more wavy random scratching style. I love the feeling of claws – like little knives moved with care all over my body. They are cold metal but cause heat on my skin when he’s done. They aren’t actually super sharp, if used right they feel almost blunt, but if they are pulled across your flesh fast enough they feel delightfully sharp. He moves down and also scratches my arse and legs, in a more sensual way, tickling almost, he rolls me over. I’m now on my back. Husband is sucking then slapping my tits, it’s hurting but I am laughing, I enjoy playtime pain. He even slaps my face. 

I plead for sex, I am half expecting to be forced to beg, I am desperate to feel him inside me, for him to cum inside me. Missionary position – yes okay, it sounds dull but it so was not boring. It was loving, and close, and sweaty, the perfect fuck. But he doesn’t stay – he pulls out and says I should get on my knees. Doggy now, this I like a lot. He again grabs me by my collar, moving me into the position that causes the deepest penetration. Pulling hard, this sends me into another orgasm.

Eventually we stop playing and just hug. I’m not sure how long we hugged, but then we had a shower together to wash away the blood, sweat and spunk. We get dressed ready for our vanilla day. Which today was going to a rugby match with friends. Back to boring…. 

Rubber duck and bubbles

Yesterday Husband had a day off work as he had to attend hospital. He normally commutes almost 2 hours each way, so coming to our home town to hospital and popping back to work after is impossible. This meant he had free time where he wasn’t working and I wasn’t looking after our children, adult time, oh Yay!

It started nicely, he took the kids to school and left me sleeping. When he returned it was with croissants and pain au chocolate, he made some fresh coffee and sneaks upstairs to wake me.

I see him walking up the stairs holding a big blue tray, two plates, two cups and a cafetiere. Apparently breakfast in bed is like an aphrodisiac to me, as shortly afterwards we are hugging. I went to sleep wearing a nice Ann Summers bra and thong set with a fishnet dress over it. I knew that he’d wake up wanting me.


The hug got close and I suggest a bath together. Husband doesn’t take baths, he never has, he always has showers. But he accepts my offer, and I run us a bath with lavender bubble bath and call him in. Our cd collection is playing via MP3 from Husband’s mobile phone on the windowsill, this not only means we have nice sounds, but it also hides noises from the neighbours.

He gets in and brings Duck with him. I’m sat facing him, Husband’s back is towards the tap end. I starts off as an almost vanilla shared bath, but soon enough it gets naughty. His broken arm is holding Duck by my clit, his other hand is stroking around the entrance to my vagina. He slips two fingers in me but things are not moving smoothly, I joke that lube is pointless as it’s pretty much all water-based these days, and suggest the shower gel might be a better alternative. He rubs shower gel over my legs and tummy, and then dribbles it over his good hand. My mind goes naughty as it’s thick creamy shower gel, and it is white. The prefect choice for a kinky bath – I’d advise strongly against the use of tingly bath products for this purpose (never ever get Original Source on your genitals, trust me).

A few more gentle fingers and then he goes for it, his arm is deep inside me, the smell of coconut is in the room. I am happy and encourage him to do as he pleases, that I trust him and nothing he can do will be too rough. Relentlessly he keeps fucking me, with his broken arm tickling and teasing elsewhere. I was almost sat up for a short while as I react to the strong movements inside me, but then I relax and allow myself to sink backwards, to utterly relax and submit. I’ve hit the sexual high stage, all I care about right now are the orgasms, and I move instinctively rather than thinking about things first. As we are a couple who like breath play (AKA strangling or asphyxiation) the idea dawned on me that I’m in water, I can do the breathing thing myself. Mid-orgasm I smirk at him, gasp to take a deep breath and I go under the water holding my nose. I don’t stay under a very long time, I just want to test if it works for me. It does, it totally does.

I wait until the next time I want to call out, to moan or scream and at that point I go under, with Husband still thrusting his arm into me. I hold my nose and dive, the feeling is overwhelming and I am moaning underwater, I can see bubbles of air leaving my mouth. I know this is going to be good! I stay under longer than Husband was comfortable with and his foot pushes my neck and head out of the water in a gentle way. I didn’t think it was too long, I was still cumming! This game continued for around an hour and a half until his broken arm was going a bit stiff, causing him too much pain to carry on much longer. It was honestly the best sex I’ve had in my life.

He releases the plug to drain the water, and removes his arm from me. I’m euphoric, and high as a kite. We get out and help each other dry, He has a hospital appointment to attend for his arm, so we can’t just lie in each others arms, which is all I want to do when I am in this state. I adore what Husband can do to me, how he makes me feel. I walk downstairs with a massive grin on my face, and off we go to my car for the vanilla hospital trip.

Later we play on the kitchen table. It might sound basic, but it is fun. A wooden kitchen table is such a harsh, solid, unforgiving surface to lie on during sex that it makes a good place for making love in a more naughty way.

What was more naughty is it was daytime still, we weren’t home alone, so I had to attempt to keep my excitement quiet. I am a very vocal lover, so this ain’t easy. Our kitchen is at the front of our house, near a shared “green” where kids play and dog walkers frequently pass our window. There was some risk of getting caught, even if our genitals were facing away from he window, the blinds were not fully twisted to closed. I don’t think anyone saw, but next-door probably heard me shout “harder” at least once.

The wood was creaking and wobbling, I was climaxing and rolling about – every now and then I’d worry about falling off of that table. Husband is going faster and firmly, and ejaculates into my body. Nothing is as comforting to me when I’m horny as his semen inside me, an act of love resulting in warm dampness.  It was great fun, but my back did not agree as I’ve been in pain since then.

Next time, a pillow is needed. There will be a next time.


I’ve not writen for a few days

The last few days have been a bit busy.

As I type this though I am sat on a pingpong table in a kids park watching my family play. I don’t fit in with the frumpily dressed mummies, wearing at figure flattering red dress, a black faux fur coat, black lace tights and black heels finished with vivid red lippy.

We travelled to France for hollibobs, and the husband and I have been treating it like a honeymoon. At it like bunnies, you know, if bunnies had learnt to spank. That’s right folks, we’re newlyweds. On the way here I was a pantless passenger – then I was a tad worried at the french border in case our car got a full search. Also the adult toys in our suitcases!

But I got a bit more cheeky, feet on the dashboard, still minus underwear. I was giggling quietly as other road users noticed. The kids didn’t notice so it’s all good.

After a long day travelling (up from 5am) we went for a sunset stroll along the beach, but we were all shivering from the ocean wind. My first thought is what a prefect beach to make love on… no nearby houses so I could introduce husband to the joys of outside. I love nearly getting caught. Slight downside is it is pitch black at night here and we’d have to walk though woodland to get there. That is an issue for me, but we take this walk anyway. Sadly there was a group of studenty people sat on the sand dunes watching us so husband bottled it slightly.

Instead we have a few very honest chats about my past. Even after 15 years it seems there are things I hadn’t said. Recently you see I’ve made a request I might regret, we might regret. But I like to own my fears, I like to turn negatives into fun. Like skydiving, who’d have thought shy little me would jump out of a plane? But I hate heights, the phobia used to control me – now I just say firmly in my head “you can swim in clouds love, you’ve got this… it’s not that high” and I want this in other parts of my mind. In the dark phobic places. I don’t want to elaborate.

To be continued… but for now I want a shower.

My first “scene” events

Last night I went to my local vanilla meeting, just friends in a pub with the occasional bondage comment thrown in. Cosy, although I would have preferred to sit on the sofas not hard wooden chairs, but I am fussy.

The night before I went to SWAMP in Bristol alone. This is a BDSM play event. I was feeling every emotion on the way in, confident but shy, terrified but excited. I had never been to anything like this, ever.

After a while feeling awkward a small group gathered around me, they had realised that I was nervous and were drawn to me. Half of me had alarm bells, these might be predatory advances, looking for a victim. Hand into my bag, Yale key held in my palm with the spike through my fingers, just in case I need to punch someone away. I need not have worried, these were gentlemen. No one touched without permission, spoken or implied. For example, “can I stroke you hair” or a wink and a glance.

A chap had handcuffs, that was amusing. A few men had gathered near the table I was sat at and I cuffed two strangers together and hid the keys in my bra until they begged. Then a younger man got nosey about the cuffs. I’m not sure he’d ever seen hinged cuffs because he put them both on…. on the same wrist… with the key holes facing inwards. *Facepalm* I tried to be nice, I went in search of a coat hanger to force the lock, but it didn’t work and I fell apart laughing. I did try to help, honest, but then naughty won and I twisted the cuffs a bit. I guess it was over half an hour he was trapped, poor thing. When he was free I grabbed his wrist and asked if he’d learnt his lesson whilst giving him a Chinese burn. Sorry!

Things I also enjoyed were trying to learn contact juggling (that thing Bowie does in Labyrinth), being tied up, some gorgeous scenery and making new friends. It was wonderful just being able to be myself, and not hide the kink.

Orgasm denial

Last night I got no sleep, I was up all night and then couldn’t sleep when he left. Kinky slut that I am lately, I just needed more. Too many fistings, too much sexual desire, too violent. I hurt. I am sore. I am bruised in pervy places.
Odd as it might sound I don’t climax alone normally, these urges aren’t going to disappear with a wank. I can’t sleep. My only option is a bath, hot as hell and loaded with lavender. If I can’t get off, I need to relax.

I’m home alone as my husband has gone to the gym, and he quickly popped back home to change into lycra before going on with a gym buddy for a bike ride. Whilst he’s home I try to drag him into my bath – he smirks and refuses, but I made him shave my legs first. I’m there laying flat in the bath, one leg straight up in the air, resting on his chest. Why should I do anything when he’s here?

Whilst he was out he was talking to his friend. A kinkster himself. I shouldn’t have been a bitch and messaged husband and the friend together the other day. They knew I identify as Switch, but recently I’ve been very much top dog. Do as I say, and fucking say thank you for it too. I had my husband in the palm of my hand, giving me pretty much whatever I want, or demand.

His buddy suggested I needed reminding my place, that we are meant to be equal. But that is an assumption – I chose to identify as Switch because it is the nearest to how I feel. But to quote Orwell, “some are more equal than others” and I like it this way. Switch with a Brat edge, I’m not always going to behave as expected. I might be Dominant and submissive in the same bedroom session. That’s just me.

Today though his buddy taught him a game he’d not thought of. That he didn’t dare. It was mean and a surprise, but hot as hell in another way. In a way I did need this, but I like winning in bed! I was being selfish but husband enjoys making me whimper, shake and have fun so he was getting a kick too.

He was taught denial of orgasm. The little bastard had me straight from my bath, I thought I’d seduced him, but he had the power today. He was playing with me, teasing me, way past foreplay. He got me right to the edge then stopped and said forcefully that I don’t get to cum, I don’t get to be happy this time. He’d been fucking hard, passionately and attentively. I was loving it, then he drops this trick in. Nooooo I was teetering on the edge, this was cruel.
Hot and sweaty, covered in my own excitement where he’d rubbed his hands on me, I shouted the mates name. I knew that this wasn’t husband’s own idea.

A fucked up mixture of anger and extreme arousal, and I warn my bitch of a husband that if he does this again he’ll regret it. He of course takes it as a dare, so he got a punch to his shoulder and clawed wherever my fingernails could grab. It’s been a while since I called out a name in bed that wasn’t my partner’s, so well done fellow kinkster. You know who you are!

I got a nice flogging, but he wouldn’t finish me off sexually, so I sent his friend a slightly angry message. Sorry (but kinda your own fault dude).

We had to go out, family stuff. Vanilla as hell, but I kept saying inappropriate things on purpose, it was veiled but he knew. I think some strangers nearby did too but I don’t really give a shit. Yup, Brat is out. That bloke knew for sure we were talking in our own code, but I doubt he fully understood.

Sexually frustrated all day, after such a good night too. One thing is for sure, I’ll be sleeping like a log tonight. Draped over my husband, the bitch that learnt to deny me.

What am I doing?

Just a few days ago I shot down my own hard limit of fisting and made husband wear me as a glove, since then boom I’m a fucking sex addict.

This evening I told him honestly that I was sore from playing so rough recently bruised ribs from flogging, bruises in a nice pattern on my tits, extremely sore at the entrance to my vagina from being greedy, finger mark bruising on my ankle where he grabbed me so wonderfully tight. All the ouchies are from consentual fun and violence. I’m not blaming him or mad at him at all.

But I told him I wanted straight, normal, good old vanilla love making tonight. I made him promise to ignore demands for violence, fisting, glass toys, or anything else that would cause more pain. You see, when he excites me I make poor choices, I don’t think ahead. I only think in the moment. It means I end up hurt because when aroused my pain threshold increases. It’s his fault!

When we were in bed before anything started we had an argument (about housework) rules gone – it’s now make up sex which makes it more passionate. He listened kinda, he respected my request from gentle. I sat on his face and he moved his soft, and skilled little tounge about. It felt good after almost being torn down there yesterday. (A sexual encounter I didn’t write up, let’s just say ice cubes inside me are great, and so is the gush of water after they melt. But fisting with ice cubes, not so wise. It had made me contract so fucking tight I was as snug as a virgin. His hand didn’t fit, but I was tied up and not thinking sensibly. I just wanted the orgasms, fuck the pain, bad idea)

After being on his face for a while he suggested if I wanted standard vanilla sex I need to stop sucking him and get off his face as he was getting excited himself. I jumped off so fast as I really like to feel him cum inside me. I’m so horny I NEED him to cum inside me, to allow me to feel finished, satisfied, to be done and calm.
He lays over me like he’s going to do missionary, but I put my foot to his chest to stop him so I can rest both feet over his shoulders. This gives a much better level of penetration, and I was desperate to feel him.
We have fun, not rushed or kinky at all…. just making love. It was a good shag. I should have been satisfied, but I wasn’t.

I said I was NOT done, and he’s strong at first, reminding me I’d said no already. But I’m hyper, I beg for a fisting, I grab his hand and force him low. He submits of course, does as he’s told, and I have several orgasms. I am so horny, so wound up that I’m leaking past his arm and actually getting a damp arse from squirtting. It’s ridiculous, I have no control whatsoever and I’m pleading to be hurt. He’s changing between small, nice, delicate movements and really pounding me. I love being played with after he’s cum in me, I always have, but this is another level. I’m away with the faeries, shouting, moaning, grunting and screaming. Also a lot of grateful swearing. He decides I’ve had enough, I beg him to change his mind but its withdraw time.

My nagging means I twist his arm into more selfish sexual pleasure. He wanks me with a glass dildo and shoves a thumb up my arsehole. Squealing again, I’m enjoying this. More orgasms follow. I’m very lucky, I often have multiple orgasms from husbands hand-work. I grab his cock and start returning the fun, then he asks if I can finish with a blowjob. I agree, with how selfish I’d been in bed this evening I figured this should be just for him. I move down the bed, he can’t touch me. His turn. I move deep, I bite, I tease and I make him squirm happily. I can see him biting his lip, arching his back. I love him like this. He cums again and I move back up the bed for hugs.

It’s 4am when we finish, he’s got to be out of the house early in the morning. He’s going to have to manage at the gym in the morning on two hours sleep. And he probably is covered in bite and scratch marks. His personal trainer is not going to go easy on him either.

Sorry for stealing your sleep (again) but I did make you promise to stay vanilla, to reject my kinky demands. I blame you, you were weak, and I am a brave idiot.

I am going to regret this when the horny/hyper buzz wears off.

I think I’m a sex addict.

Get on your knees

Here we go again, my writing whilst still excited.

The husband came home at 6.30, he was meant to be cooking dinner for the family. Instead of letting him get on with cooking I am getting flirty. He’s only pissing about but he pushes gently on my head to imply get down. He wasn’t thinking I would, we are stood in the kitchen, the blinds aren’t completely closed, neighbours can see.
I smirk and drop to my knees. Poor thing is terrified someone will walk in on us, but I am laughing in my head.

As he starts to let himself relax and enjoy it he says “Bedroom. Now” I’m straight to my feet and we make our excuses as we walk past family and go upstairs. I continued the blowjob, could tell he was wanting this as he starts thrusting about, trying to facefuck me. I was really enjoying myself. The curtains are open, and we have massive mirrors, anyone walking past can see this and I like that.

On your knees” he says and he takes me from behind with me on knees and hands… It’s one of our favourite positions as it results in brilliant depth. He grabs my hair and pulls me upright so he goes further inside my vagina. Deeper, firmer, much more forceful and it is appreciated. He slips out of my pussy after I’m rather wet and goes up the arse instead. Taking it hard and fast. I am trying to stay upright but I am enjoying it and just sort of collapsed forwards in a submissive way as he continues. My nails are ripping across the bedding, and I am trying to muffle my noises as we aren’t alone.

He climaxes but I am not ready to give up. I roll over onto my back and spread my limbs. He carries on winding me up. Whipping me all over. My tits, stomach, legs and feet. Even a few whacks to the bikini region. I squeal. He tells me I keep the noise down, which is a struggle.

As he’s whipping I BEG for a fisting. He says no, but I am not listening. I want it, I’m having it. I grab his wrist and direct him towards where I want him. He pulls away and I beg again with the puppy dog eyes. He gives in and obliges. His hand pushes into my hole, but isn’t going after a few tries. I tell him lube now and in he goes. For a split second as the widest part of his hand enters my body it hurts a fucking lot. It’s worth it. Very Fucking Worth It!

As before, he wiggles his fingers and thrusts. I’m going mad, shaking, quivering, moaning. I get a warning about my noise but I can’t keep quiet so he punishes me. I think he pinched my cervix but I am not sure. I promise to try harder to be quiet and he carries on. Not just moving in and out but now twisting too. Sweet lord, I. Cannot. Cope.

I am so wound up. Why the hell was fisting not tried sooner? Since we first did this earlier in the week it’s been on my mind a lot. After what I thought was only a very short time he tried to withdraw – I reach down and grab his arm firmly with both hands. “Don’t Stop. PLEASE don’t quit yet” so he stays a little longer. He didn’t really have much choice, I had my legs wrapped around his head and shoulders and stuck my heels into him. Not over until I say so bitch.

I’m hysterical, and a bit more satisfied. I give him permission to leave, but grab him close and say thank you as he wipes his soaking wet hand right by my head on the bed covers. He leaves me on the bed as he goes for a shower. I try to behave, but it doesn’t last. I walk in to the bathroom, kick off my heels and get into the bath. Straight to my knees again and sucking his floppy dick. I’m still dressed, I’m wearing a lace “babydoll” dress with suspender clips, no pants and stocking. He says “you’ll get wet” I don’t care and tell him to shut up.

After a short time it’s going hard, and he’s getting into it. He’s never had a woman in lingerie suck him off in running water, I’m not sure many men have. I’m getting water in my mouth and nose, it’s getting harder to breathe but he hears me struggling and suggests it’s game over. Nope. I guide his legs away from the water just a few steps, he’s still getting scorching water on his back but I’m no longer being drowned.

We eventually served up dinner at 9pm. So much for a quickie.