Posts Tagged ‘coming inside’
I have a confession to make:
I like dirty sex. I mean, you probably already knew that. And by dirty I mean … body fluids. You already know that my girlfriend ejaculates frequently and that I like that very much. But you might not know that sometimes, what occupies my dirty talk is about my own ejaculate, coming inside.
Some of you might be going “ew” right about now, and it wasn’t that long ago that I probably would have been right there with you. But then … I don’t know what happened exactly, but I guess my sex life got a little bit dirtier. And things like that, that before I might have gone “ew” to right away, started getting me kind of hot. And then a lot hot.
I started thinking about what it would be like to have the physical evidence of that kind of coming inside, seeing something, if not me, actually squirt, actually leave a wet spot or a puddle or some moisture on skin. When I mentioned it to Kristen, she was into it. (She’s pretty dirty, too, in case you didn’t know.)
So Eden Fantasys sent us these:
It’s clear right away that neither of these cocks are made to be used in a harness. So that’s the big negative #1. If they’re not made for that, what are they made for? They’re not exactly dyke-marketed, so are they for straight couples? Made to be hand-held? Made for solo use for a (straight) woman? Who uses these? I figured, well, I can try them out hand-held regardless, they’d be more fun with a harness but let’s just try ‘em out and see what happens.
When the first, Squirt the Realistic, showed up, as soon as I opened the package it had that plastic chemical stench that permeated the whole room. Not impressed. Usually that smell is indicative of pthalates, or of some other sort of leaking chemically plastic that I’m sure should not actually be in contact with anybody’s skin, let alone be inserted inside of an orifice.
So that is pretty much an automatic out.
Some specifications, though since it’s automatically out that doesn’t matter much: it’s 7″ x 1 7/8″, but it’s got balls and a suction cup, so it’s really only 5″ insertable. Not to be a size king or anything, but that’s a little bit small. It’s especially small if it is strapped on, because you need a bit more length to make sure you don’t pop out, but as we’ve already covered it doesn’t work in a harness, so that matters a little bit less here.
The second, Squirty Peter (really, Doc Johnson? You really use words like “dinger” and “dildo”? Bad choice), is a little better, though still not great. It’s rubber, which does not have leaky plastic materials but is still kind of sticky and annoying, especially when you have pets, because all the dust and hair sticks to it.
This one is 8 1/2″ x 1 3/4″ with 7 3/4″ insertable length. It kind of has a base on it, and I bet I could get it into a harness, but the base is less flared than it looks in the photo, plus it’s got this tube coming out of the end of it which would be a) uncomfortable and b) probably cut off the tube’s pressure and make it harder to actually do the squirting if it had a kink in it—you know, like how a garden hose stops working if the water is blocked. So it’s still not a great harness cock.
Still. I will admit, you know, privately, that I liked it. I liked being able to see the action I sometimes eroticize and fetishize.
Oh, speaking of ejaculate: Mostly I’ve just used water so far, and that’s been fine. I’ve been thinking about picking up a bottle of Liquid Silk lube, because aside from being awesome lube it is a pretty great consistency and thickness and color to mimic come. The packages for both of these cocks suggest using some sort of egg white + sugar recipe, but sugar is actually really bad for the pH of pussy (maybe these are made for gay boys?), so I won’t be doing that. Water’s fine, lube will probably be even better.
It won’t be a frequent toy in rotation, I’m sure—I received it this summer and it’s been infrequent at best—but I’ll be keeping it around. Especially for the affordable $12.99, it’s worth having around.
SPECIAL EXTRA NOTE TO COCK CREATORS & FUTURE COCK CREATORS:
Please make a better one of these. Make one for trans guys, for dykes, for dirty kinksters who actually want it to be able to be strapped on. Why don’t we have a good product like this out on the market? Tantus? Vixen Creations? Who’s gonna be first, hm?
She looked so damn hot yesterday.
I don’t know what it was exactly. She was in an outfit I’ve seen, tight slim jeans, her girly black tank top with the silver star pattern, little yellow sweater with the clear buttons. Maybe it was her hair, she’s been letting it grow and it’s getting longer, almost to her chin, it’s thin so it’s starting to flip up at the ends. So. Fucking. Cute. Maybe it was the earrings, simple large silver hoops, the ones she’s worried are a cliche but I keep trying to assure her they’re classic, sexy.
Off hand, she said yesterday that I am obsessed with my hair. I said ‘obsessed’ was a bit strong, but I see her point. Maybe it’s not just my hair, either, but hair in general. Still, I don’t want to pressure her into doing things like growing her hair long because that’s what I like – I hope it’s okay for me to state my personal preference while at the same time accepting however she prefers to present. Because while it’s true, I do prefer long hair, even more than that I prefer her to make decisions based on her own wants and needs and personal expression, not on what I desire.
Still. Her hair was so much shorter when we met, nearly as short as mine is now; I’ve been growing mine too, going for that early Elvis look. I’d dye it blue-black like his but I really like the few strands of gray that are coming in at my temples.
I guess I really am obsessed with hair.
Point is: she looked so, so good. Fun, flirty. Femme.
We chatted on the couch after I got to her house. How are you, how’s your day, how’s your sister. Maybe it was that I hadn’t seen her in more than a day after spending many days in a row with her. I felt my appetite for her growing, bubbling up. At one point she tipped her head just slightly sideways, her hair doing this little flip on both sides, the lines of her silhouette so perfect, those big hoop earrings brushing her neck, and she gave me a little smile, eyes twinkling. If I’d been on a TV show, it would’ve cut to a shot of me, my spine becoming jelly, my hands to my face, crying OH GOD as I slide off the couch before springing up and throwing myself on her, wrapping around her and kissing her hard, my mouth wherever she’d let me put it, then the camera would snap back to the shot of us on the couch as we were before and nothing would’ve actually happened, just me, sitting there blinking, in awe, probably totally transparent and readable and ooey gooey in love. Am I so obvious? Moments like that I feel oafish, bull in a china shop, too big and awkward next to such grace and elegance, like I am certain how much she knows she’s got me wrapped around her little finger.
Oh and here I am being all dramatic and admirational again. Are you bored of this femme-worship yet? Three and a half years of Sugarbutch and I only love femmes more, I am only more certain of my orientation to them in such a specific way. Only three and a half years of Sugarbutch, but I met my first femme nine years ago, and I knew then … what? Something. The way she shocked me to life, lit up the night like a shower of sparks from fireworks.
And I’ve never had it this good. I tell myself that every day: every day of this relationship I am grateful, so appreciative of every minute we have together. I’ve not known a bliss like this and I’ve never known it to last this long.
When Jesse was here, she had a brief little snag with Violet, some conversation where it wasn’t quite perfect, but she didn’t let it phase her or lose her unwavering faith in their relationship. “We’ve always been able to talk it through, whatever it is,” she said. And so far, Kristen and I have that too – not big explosive fights and feelings getting deeply hurt, but conversations of honesty and self-awareness and accountability and care. There are some things looming, a little, I’ve felt their weight lately, our differences and complications and inadequacies and places where we need more support, but we have always been able to talk things through, even if the journey is more illuminating than the destination, even if the only conclusion is, “well, now we know, that’s how we work, that’s my particular quirks and assumptions coming up against yours in our unique relationship way. We’ll just have to watch how this plays out.” We still come back together, appreciate each other, speak the deep truths. I feel like I am heard, always. And oh how important that is, what a relief to have it in my relationship, with her.
Dacia has a piece she’s read in public a few times lately which has the lines, “I write about the relationship I wish I was having,” and “I buy my own bullshit.” I’ve done that, here, in the past. I’ve written myself into love, used this site to woo and court. I haven’t wanted to do that with Kristen. It’s too precious, too real; I’ve learned from my mistakes, or rather, I am learning, I am trying to learn. That is a major reason why I haven’t written about her like I have others.
Plus, I’m all the more protective of my heart these days. How many heartbreaks is one heart made to withstand, anyway? I love writing about my relationships, but it can also be a crutch – I become obsessed with micro-articulating my feelings and emotional landscapes in writing, sometimes to my own detriment, overdramatizing and letting the articulation of the emotion be more important than the experience, the story, the audience, the effects.
I don’t want to do that anymore.
So I am protective of this relationship, as it has swelled and sometimes burst, its ups and downs. I haven’t chronicled it all here, preferring instead to articulate it to her as best I can. And there are things, snags, places between us which are murky and lurking a little for me right now, things that have come up and we’ve said “we should talk about that more later,” but now it’s later and I don’t even remember what they were, so that makes me all the more nervous. The unknown rather than the known. I should’ve kept a list, I keep thinking. But I’ve got to calm my nerves about this, not let it affect the really good highs inside of which we still so easily slip. So far, we’ve been able to talk through everything, and for now I’ll rest comfortable on presuming we’ll be able to do that in the future, too.
Yes, I was high when I reached out for her upper arm and pulled her onto my lap, and she’d just told me about how she’d done her homework this morning by playing with her ass while getting off, but that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t also in love, wanting to make love, wanting to be inside of her, drinking her in as I sucked her nipples into my mouth and left bite marks on her neck and shoulders. She cried out and I thought, someone should be videotaping this she is so goddamn hot.
In the bedroom we slipped off her clothes. “Take off your shirt.” I slid her tight jeans down her legs. She was in this matching bra and panties I hadn’t seen her wear before – she does wear the bra, a little white one with pink polka dots and pink satin bows, very femme, but the matching panties have layers of ruffles. I’ve never seen her in them.
I didn’t take them off.
“I want to see your ass. Turn over.” She does, gets on all fours. “Show it to me. Get down on your elbows.” She parts her knees a little and arches her back, I run my hand over her curves and feel the outline of her cunt and ass under the thin fabric. I let my fingers trail over her softly, slowly. My mind raced. There’s so much I wanted to do to her, with her. All that ass talk earlier made me want my fingers in her there, to get out the little plug I’d brought to leave at her place (her further homework), wanted to plow her ass hard and make her scream. I won’t do that, yet, of course, it’ll take some time to work up to it. I wanted her to stay on her knees, ass in the air, while I gripped her hips and fucked her slow and hard. I wanted her on her knees, mouth full of spit eyes looking up at me as she sucked me down.
But most of all I wanted to be close, pressed against her, kissing her, wrapped around each other. So I strapped on, peeled off her pretty bra and panties, told her to turn over, slid inside, and got lost in her, got lost in the way we wind around and hold each other. We barely spoke, just felt each other, just took it all in with our bodies.
There were a few times I slowed down, savored her, looked at her, but the vibration was so strong between us, I
couldn’t didn’t want to stop. Sometimes I wondered if I should, if her hips were okay, if she needed more of a break, but I kept getting so close and ultimately was able to come inside of her for the first time in a long time, I was glad I didn’t stop. (I don’t know why I haven’t been coming lately. I broke out the Spartacus harness I’d retired hoping that would help. It did, apparently.)
Later, she said, “I thought you were going to stop … but you didn’t. That was good.”
Yeah, that was good. And I’m glad she said that. Always affirming to know I wasn’t pushing her. I want to push her, I want to have that kind of power and trust and knowledge and skill, but that has to be earned, that has to be worthy. I want to do so much more with her, to her, want to take her to all sorts of dirty places and cradle her and worship her and honor her and fuck her and smack her around and force her and hold her and let go with her and trust her.
There’s time. It’s been almost a year, but I know enough to know that we’re in this. And that we’ll keep building, and exploring, as this keeps getting deeper and stronger.
In my bedroom. We both knew we only had a few hours until she would leave, back to her city, an hour and a half drive away.
I didn’t waste time. Pulled her by her hair toward me and thrust my tongue in her mouth. Moved her around, hands hard and thick on her torso. Pressed against me. She feels good in my arms.
I stripped her and left my office clothes on, for now. I was already hard packing (not with Silky but with Rick, I broke my Silky again), and hard, and wanted to fuck.
I pushed her back on the bed easily. Kneed her legs apart and pressed my cock up against her, bare, through my slacks. Kissed her, hard, felt her body under me.
I pulled back after a minute and lifted myself up. “Take my dick out,” I ordered softly.
She did. Unbuckled, unzipped, palmed it in her hand, let out a low satisfied hum of pleasure when she touched it. I tightened my harness, lowered myself back on top of her, kissed her neck. “I want to fuck your mouth.”
She arched in response, but whispered, “But I want you to fuck me.”
I almost laughed. Her desire handed to me on a silver platter, I took it gratefully. “No.”
“Please, baby, I need it, I want you to fuck my pussy.”
I do like the way she begs. I nearly acquiesced, but said “no” again, pulled back to shift to my knees on the bed. Took her hair in my fist as she bent in front of me. “Do it real pretty, and I’ll fuck you.”
She lowered her lips to my cock and kissed. Swallowed. Lapped with her tongue, ran it along her lips. I didn’t stop with the talking. “Baby, you suck it so good. That’s so pretty in your mouth, suck it deeper, yeah that’s it, good girl.”
I pulled her up to kiss me a few times, mostly so I could feel how her lips and tongue get swollen and wet when she sucks me off, and so I can have that moment of thrusting her head back down to my cock, pushing on the back of her skull.
She started taking it deeper, deep as she could, nearly the whole thing, kept it there while her throat contracted around it and she fought her gag reflex, then pulled up and kneeled.
“Do it again,” I said, and she looked up at me, mouth open tongue thick, and lowered her mouth back down, sucking me all the way again. “Deeper. Good girl. Take that cock in your throat. Swallow it. Good, that’s so good.”
And again she came up for air.
“Do that one more time,” I said, caressing the back of her head, “and I’ll fuck you.”
She quivered a little, I could see it ripple through her back, and then she did: brought her mouth down on my cock once more, took it deeper this time, pretty, so pretty, so far back in her throat.
When she started to resist I pulled her up by her hair, shifted next to her, put my hands on her hips and turned her over to her back, slid between her legs again.
She was so wet I barely needed lube. “Oh, you liked that, huh.”
“You like my cock in your mouth.” My hand on it, putting it in place.
“You like to suck it. You like when I fuck your pretty mouth.” I guided it in, hard, and started fucking her sweet but steady, deep. She moaned. Tried to say “yes” but it came out in a slur.
“I like it too. I like my cock in your mouth, I like how you suck it. You get me so hard, I just have to fuck you.” I continued, cock thrusting in and out as I took her wrists in one hand, held her down, kissed her jaw and neck. “I like it in your pussy too.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, put it in my pussy. Fuck my pussy hard.” She shifted her hips up and back and I thrust an inch deeper, reached around her thigh to get a nice grip on her ass.
Somehow, she was set off and kept a steady stream of words at my ear, every time I thrust harder into her I’d get a nice reward of her lovely voice saying dirty things: oh yeah baby just like that, fuck me hard, you know how I like it, you know how I love your big dick in my pussy, put it in me, harder baby, fuck me, fuck me hard, and when she gets closer it becomes ooh baby you fuck me so good, you fuck me so good, baby that feels so good, so good, you fuck me so good, baby, baby –
And somewhere in there I lost it. Blurted “I’m gonna come” as it started happening. Groaning, harness against clit, thrusting my cock deep in her; I don’t even know what I do exactly when I come like that because I’m so unpracticed at it that my body goes and releases and moves and I’m not sure what I’m doing.
She wrapped her arms and legs around me, held me close as my breathing evened and my pulse calmed. Read More