#orgasms

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When people think about orgasms, they usually think about sex and masturbation. Orgasms arise from sexual stimulation, right? That’s certainly the most common route to orgasm for most people, but something a lot of folks don’t realize is that orgasms sometimes occur in non-sexual contexts.

For example, as I’ve previously written on the blog, some people report experiences with orgasm during sleep, while exercising, and even during childbirth.

But just how many people have experienced orgasms outside of a sexual context? Most studies that can speak to this have relied on non-representative, convenience samples. For example, Alfred Kinsey estimated that about 5% of people had experienced exercise-induced orgasms based on reports provided by his participants. However, he didn’t have a representative sample and also didn’t ask standardized questions about this subject. 

We now have an answer, though. A recent, nationally representative US survey has emerged that can shed light on the prevalence of orgasm through some non-sexual activities. 

In the fourth wave of the National Survey of Sexual Health and Behavior (NSSHB), researchers asked 1,012 men and 1,083 women about their experiences with orgasm during both exercise and sleep. Specifically, here are the questions:

“Thinking about your entire life, how many times have you had an orgasm while you were engaging in physical exercise (e.g., such as sit-ups, ab exercises, yoga, running, lifting weights, climbing, etc.).” 

“Thinking about your entire life, how many times have you had an orgasm while you were sleeping?”

There was also a follow-up question to the one about exercise that inquired about the specific exercise(s) people were doing.

The results indicated that 9% of Americans (about 1 in 10) said they’d experienced at least one orgasm through exercise at some point. Men and women did not differ in terms of their experiences with this, although men tended to have their first exercise-induced orgasm at a younger age than women. On average, men had their first one between ages 16-17, whereas women had their first one in their early 20s. 

A wide range of physical activities were reported; however, the single most common one for men and women alike involved abdominal exercises. Biking, running, and jogging were also reported by several participants. Less commonly, people mentioned things like jumping jacks and riding a rocking horse. Interestingly, one participant specifically mentioned “loading an eighteen-wheeler with 55-gallon steel drums.”

Of those who had experienced exercise-induced orgasms, most reported experiencing this less than five times total in their lives. Just 1% said this had happened more than 10 times. 

So what about sleep orgasms? A majority of Americans (53%) said they had experienced this at least once before, although men were more likely to report this than women (66% vs. 42%, respectively).

Again, most reported this to be an infrequent experience, saying sleep-induced orgasms had only occurred five or fewer times in total. However, a substantial minority (15%) said this is something they had experienced more than 10 times in their lives. 

It’s worth noting that those who had experienced orgasms from exercise were also more likely to experience orgasms during sleep, and this was true for both men and women. The authors suggest that this “may reflect an underlying predisposition to unintentional orgasm in some people.”

There are some limitations of these data. For example, none of the participants identified as transgender and the number of people reporting sexual identities other than heterosexual was small, which means these data can’t really speak to the prevalence of non-sexual orgasms among sexual and gender minorities.

Also, these data are based on retrospective reports, which means people may not accurately remember how often they actually had these experiences or exactly when they occurred. Plus, when it comes to sleep orgasms, people may not always realize when they happen, unless they woke up during it or there was some “evidence” of it the next morning. 

We also don’t yet understand why some people have these experiences and other people don’t, which means that more research is needed. However, these findings do tell us that many people have experiences with orgasm outside the context of solo and partnered sexual activity, which can help to normalize these experiences for those who have them.

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Image Source: Photo by Victor Freitas on Unsplash

To learn more about this research, see: Herbenick, D., Fu, T. C., Patterson, C., & Dennis Fortenberry, J. (2021). Exercise-Induced Orgasm and Its Association with Sleep Orgasms and Orgasms During Partnered Sex: Findings From a US Probability Survey. Archives of Sexual Behavior.

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Adriana Chechik multiple squirting orgasms in “What’s Up Her Ass” (2018)

Date Night: The morning After

I stir awake slowly as I hear the cascade of water falling from the bathroom shower. I look towards the digital clock on the night stand, the red glow of LEDs tells it was 0644 hours on a Saturday morning. Jenna nor I had work today but we did have some errands to do and chill out through the day. I got up slowly out of bed when I heard the shower turn off. I decide at that point I’m going to ambush Jenna once she comes into the room. I stand up and get ready, I took out several toys from last night and brace myself. I hear Jenna walk in and see her wrapped up in a towel. “Good morning” Jenna said.

“Good morning dear!” I walked towards her and embrace her in my arms. I kissed her full lips slowly. We kissed for thirty seconds before she pulled back.

“Can you let me go please?” She smiled and winked at me. I hug walked her over to the bed and then moved my hands and gripped her shoulders. I pushed her down on the bed, pouncing on her like a tiger.

“I have other plans dear.” We kiss each other hard, I bite her lip. A soft moan erupts from her mouth into mine. She bites my lip eruption a low groan from me, our hands are pawing at each other. We scratch at each other like the depraved horny animals we are. My hands tug at Jenna’s towel and rip it open. My hand slides towards nipple and I twirl it in my fingers, tugging lightly. I start to suckle on her neck and make a trail of love bites going towards her nipples. I take on in my mouth and suck hard. I swap for the other. “Fuck, please don’t stop” I heard Jenna.

“please don’t stop what?” I stop sucking on her nipple and pull back. Jenna begins to pout. “Please don’t stop, daddy!”

“That’s my good girl!” I resume suckling her nipple and began to kiss down her breasts and stomach. I nibble down her stomach and down to her thighs. Purposefully avoiding the furnace of heat and dripping wetness. I kiss down and back up her thighs as she opens her legs spread wide as she could. I nibble and suckle almost every inch, leaving some bruises along the way. I run my finger along your slit lightly, I feel your hips inch towards me. I start to kiss your lips heavily. I pull back and ask, “Hey babe can I restrain you?” I ask serious for a moment making sure I have consent.

“Yes! I’ll let you know if it’s too much” Jenna says softly.

I kiss her forehead softly and then get up. I open our “toy box” and grab two sets of handcuffs and leather cuffs. I have Jenna lay in the middle of the bed arms out. I attach some chains to bondage points I installed on the bed frame. I cuff each wrist to a chain. I make sure it is tight but not to occlude circulation. I have Jenna raise her knees up a little and then cuff her ankles to chains on the bed. I look into her luscious eyes “I’m gonna make you cum as many times as you can and then I’ll make you cum till you are a quivering soaking mess.” Jenna nods her head, I see a smirk and lip bite rise from her face.

I slide my hands down and slide along her glistening slit. I do brush after brush for a minute, teasing Jenna. I feel her thigh muscles contract trying to get my hand closer to her clit. I chuckle and return to brushing when my fingers land on her clit and start to make smooth slow rotating motions. “fucking finally!” Jenna moans out quietly. Several minutes pass I continue to work Jenna’s clit when I feel her start to shake lightly, her moans getting more intense. “I’m cumm…” she doesn’t finish talking but her moans take over. Her legs quiver against her restraints. I kiss her deeply, suppressing her moans with my mouth. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as the bliss of orgasm takes Jenna momentarily away from the moment, putting her in the warm blanket of a dopamine rush.

“How was that?”

“Good, fuck, how many more orgasms left?” Jenna asked, out of breath.

“hmmmm, let me think” I scratch my chin and smile at Jenna. “Until I’m done with you or in an hour so we can go to our favorite diner and grab some chow.”

“Fuck, you are gonna make me numb!” she ends with a higher pitched voice.

I stick my tongue out at her “Don’t be a brat. Brats get punished!”

“Mmmmm Maybe I want to get punished!” This banter continued till I grabbed a set of nipple clamps from the box and attached them to Jenna’s hard nipples. I adjusted them in tightness and then tugged on the chain slightly. Jenna responds with another moan.

“How’s that babygirl?”

“it feels good, sir.” I start to kiss Jenna and make a trail of kisses down her body. Her pussy is still radiating heat and I began to kiss and suckle her inner thighs slowly leading to her slit. I take my time inch by inch on both thighs giving equal treatment. Jenna is absolutely soaked, and I taste her cum along her slit. I lap it up like I need it to exist. I slowly kiss and tongue towards her clit. I feel her clench up in pleasure as my tongue hits her clit. I suck on it lightly in my mouth. Her moans get louder and louder, if she wasn’t restrained her thighs would be a vice grip on my neck keeping me in. I keep this up for several minutes until Jenna starts to quiver and shake as the next orgasm approaches. I feel her cum on my tongue as I continue to suck her clit. I feel her throbbing. My face is covered and slick with her wetness. I release her restraints and I crawl up to kiss her. She pounces my face and we make out hard for another minute. We decide to clean up and get ready for our errands day but in a much better mood. As she gets dressed I suggest she wears the sundress and sandals. I take a quick shower and as I get out she decides to ambush me…

Some context: For a while now, he’s been giving me money regularly. Sometimes for permission to come, sometimes to earn the right to get me off, and sometimes just as tribute to his lovely dom. I’ve even used his wallet to provide myself some extrinsic motivation to accomplish tasks that I can’t manage to find any intrinsic motivation to do.

I spent time with my boy, The Anarchist Economist, earlier this week. Some of my favorite moments came out of the findom we did and intense d/s we talked about.

When he came over on Tuesday night, we had dinner, and then he did work for school, and I tidied up my apartment. I had a list of tasks and for each one I completed, he sent me a dollar. After a few hours, we took a break. We cuddled, I teased him, he licked my cunt and told me stories while I used a vibrator, I came and he didn’t. You know, the usual. Then we went back to work.

At some point during our conversations, I asked him how much money would be the max he would give me for a blowjob and permission to cum. He said, “It depends on my budget. Right now? $500.” and said that once he has a job, it would go up to something like $3,000. I was surprised at how high the number for the present was, but figured I would never actually take that much from him.

Once it was time for bed, I wanted to get off more. I was having a more difficult time than usual, unfortunately, and I started to get frustrated. We hit on just the right fantasy (one of his close friends fucking me in the ass and then TAE using that guy’s cum as lube) and I managed to get the orgasm I had been chasing.

When I recovered, we started up with some intense future-focused d/s dirty talk with a findom theme. We talked about if we were to get married, and he brought up the doctrine of coverture, where once a woman gets married, her legal identity is subsumed under her husband’s. My boy suggested a reversal of that idea, so that once we got married, he would basically give up his identity, his paycheck, and his life to me.

I started teasing and touching him while describing how thoroughly I would own and control him then. How his salary would go directly into my account and he would have to take on extra work to earn money if he wanted a privilege, like being allowed to come or having time out of a cockcage.

I switched to masturbating as we exchanged fantasies about this version of the future, told him to stroke himself, and reminded him not to come. He talked about the power I would have over him and I said that I would make recordings of him talking about various fantasies as insurance that he wouldn’t try to leave. It was some of the most intense d/s talk we’ve had, and it was such a turn on.

He had to stop touching himself several times to avoid going over the edge and getting off. Unfortunately, one of these times, while he was barely touching himself, if he was at all, he came untouched. It. Was. So. Hot. He was worried I would be mad, but it just turned me on and made me feel quite accomplished with my dirty talk.

I told him I was getting another orgasm, though, and we went back to our co-fantasizing. He started stroking himself again, and I guess the partially ruined orgasm from minutes before hadn’t been enough for my hopelessly horny boytoy. He was so desperate that he finally begged, “May I please pay you $600 to come, sir?”

I was surprised (especially since that’s a full $100 over what he said was the most he would give), but I was also quite turned on, so I gave him permission. He jumped up and went over to his phone. I heard the cha-ching from the notification, and felt myself getting close to orgasm.

I moaned and asked him what the note said. He got in bed and told me “permission to come.” I gasped out an order to tell me what he’d just done. “I paid you $600 for permission to come,” he said. I told him to say it again, and then again, and as he did, I came without needing to fantasize about anything else. A moment later he came all over himself for the second time in five minutes.

As we cuddled and did aftercare, we talked and joked about what happened. There were some econ jokes and I told him it was good to know he doesn’t actually have a max he’ll pay me just to be able to get off.

Honestly, I never thought I’d be into findom and definitely never thought that I would get off on it. Apparently I just needed a perfect little paypig to come along.

Anderson Cooper’s collar was giving him some issues, and I offered to give him some of my black duct tape to make it less itchy. We didn’t have a chance to do it the first night of the con, so when I saw him the morning of the second day, I offered to bring him up to my room to do that, since I needed to head up anyway. He agreed and we headed up.

I took off my skirt to change it, and Anderson Cooper said, “Gorgeous ass.” I grinned at him and and he came up behind me for a minute. I leaned back and considered turning to kiss him. Although it was totally the signal (HIMYM reference!), I didn’t, maybe because I wasn’t sure about doing something in the room I was sharing with Reaction Junkie, instead saying that we should fix up his collar with the duct tape.

We sat down on the bed and he fixed his collar. I thought about if I wanted to do something with him, and if it would bother Reaction Junkie to do it on our bed. I decided that since he’d literally offered Anderson Cooper to me, he’d be more than okay with it. I felt silly for not going for a kiss earlier, and decided if things headed in that direction again, I’d go for it.

When we were done fixing the collar, I lay back on the bed. His arm went around me and he leaned down. We started kissing. We made out for a while and then his hand snaked up under my shirt. We both sat up and took our shirts off. We continued touching each other and kissing, and then he started teasing around my pussy.

I whimpered, and he eventually started to take off my panties. We both ended up naked, his fingers on my clit. We continue making out for a while and then changed position so that I was laying back, the position that works best for me. He continued rubbing me, making me moan and tremble. I relaxed into it and started fantasizing.

He kept touching me, and I felt the pressure building. I started to shake and moan more loudly. Finally, I came hard. When I came down from the orgasm a little, his fingers were inside me, and I felt like I was on the way to cumming again. I asked him if he wanted to fuck me, and he said he didn’t at that moment. I did an internal shrug (Oh no how terrible I’ll just get off. Such briar patch.) and relaxed back into it.

I was on my way to an orgasm when I heard a click from the door. We both froze and I had a moment of panic thinking it might be Reaction Junkie. There’s a distinct difference between not being bothered by your partner doing something with someone else and actually seeing it or walking in on it unexpectedly. I relaxed again when I heard Reaction Junkie and my roommate for the con’s (known as “B” from here on) voice say, “Is it safe?” Anderson Cooper and I laughed a bit, threw some clothes on, and let B in.

Anderson Cooper and I had been cuddling and doing some super light play for a while now. Once or twice we almost did more, but the timing or location wasn’t right. I’m glad we managed to find a time to actually make out and have some naked fun.

Interesting side note: That was the most vanilla thing I’ve done in months. Of course it happened while I was at a kink convention. And of course the way he ended up in my room was that I offered to give him some duct tape for his collar. And of course it was with someone I met because Reaction Junkie literally offered him to me as a bottom. Of course. Oh, my life.

Reaction Junkie and I haven’t fucked in far too long (more than a month), for various reasons. We’ve been meaning to fix that for the last few days, but just haven’t gotten to it.

Well, a little while ago, I said I didn’t understand something, and then made fun of myself. He played along and called me stupid. My cunt clenched and I gasped a little. Reaction Junkie got a look in his eyes and told me, “Get on the floor.” I immediately complied, kneeling at his feet.

“Head down, “he commanded, and leaned forward, putting my head on the floor. He straddled me, pressing me into the ground. He continued to insult my intelligence, saying, “You’re so stupid. You’re an idiot. Retard. Fucktard. Republican. Christian.” I moaned and trembled under him, making him chuckle and say, “You’re getting turned on by me calling you all these synonyms for stupid.”

He stood up and flipped me over onto my back. I looked up at him, afraid and uncertain what would happen next. He climbed on top of me, leaning in for a kiss. Then he continued degrading me as I whimpered and gasped, telling me he would rent me out, tell me how stupid I am, calling me out for being turned on by it all.

I felt him get hard, which just made me hotter and more desperate, which was obvious to him. I moaned and started to grind against him, hoping that he would want to fuck. He said something about having other guys fuck me, and I said, “I want you to fuck me.” “I know,” he replied and, to my relief and excitement, he continued, “go get a condom.”

I tried to head to the bedroom, but he had me pinned. I couldn’t move. I struggled, making him grin, “Why haven’t you gotten a condom yet? If you don’t get a condom in the next five seconds, I’m going to beat the shit out of you.”

The threat made me redouble my efforts, but or course I couldn’t get free. He counted down, “Five…four…three…two…one.” when he got to “one,” I braced myself for impact. He looked around, grabbed one of my squeaky toys off a nearby shelf, and shoved it into my mouth. I bit down as he grabbed my tits and started squeezing. I groaned as it started to hurt, and then he slapped me several times in the face.

He asked me why I wasn’t squeaking, and then turned the toy around in my mouth. I squeaked it a few more times, and he smiled and hit me in the face again. Then he told me to go get a condom, and let me up. I ran to the bedroom and came out. He told me to put it on him, which I did as fast as possible.

Reaction Junkie ordered me to take my pants off, and as I complied, pushed me back into the bedroom and down onto the bed. I spread my legs wide and he got between them, commenting on my action and telling me what a desperate slut I was. He wasn’t wrong. I whimpered and begged him to fuck me.

Then, finally, at long last, he pushed his cock into me. “Oh god,” I moaned, appreciating the feeling I’d missed got so long. He fucked me, telling me about renting me out, talking about things he done to me in the past, calling me names, and turning me on more and more. I wrapped my arms around him and pushed up into his thrusts.

I don’t normally get off during piv sex. In fact, I don’t normally even get on the road to orgasm, but this time I could actually feel myself getting close. I focused on the sensations, savoring them. I felt a change in the way Reaction Junkie was fucking me, and I could tell he was about to cum, which only turned me in even more and made me moan.

He came, looked me in the eyes, and said, “I love you.” I smiled and told him I loved him, too. He pulled out, and I whimpered. “Oh, do you want me to touch you until you cum?” he teased. I nodded vigorously and he started rubbing my clit. I whined and told him, “I want you to fuck me with your fingers.” He happily did so, pushing them into me and making me moan. I started rubbing my clit, and then grabbed a vibrator.

I thought about him fucking me, about him having people fuck me while I was in stocks, and came hard, tensing and moaning. When I came down from my orgasm, we got up to go about our day, and the godfamn fucking fantastic sex left me grinning and skipping. I needed that.

I’m having to pull an all-nighter for work because I’m doing a training all week, but someone still insisted that it was very important for me to do something for them, so that sucks.

On the other hand, I just had a very lovely evening with The Violinist where he came to my apartment (instead of me having to drive). When he first arrived, we talked about our days and he did some rope with me. Throughout the evening, I tried to be good about responding with his chosen honorific-type address, his name. Of course, I failed to do it consistently enough, and each time, he’d smack me hard on the sternum. I like to think I improved after the corrections. I know that I definitely felt more natural saying, “Yes, [The Violinist]” and “I’m glad, [The Violinist],” and such as the evening progressed. After he put on a chest harness that made taking deep breaths very difficult, he started hurting me, eliciting gasps and whimpers and yelps that made him grin.

Turned on by my suffering and the d/s-y use of his name, the obvious next step was for him to fuck me hard. He pushed in, clearly loving it, and told me, “I missed my cunt.” Then, when he flipped me over to fuck me from behind, he told me, “I missed your cunt.” I responded in kind, that I’d missed his cock. I loved hearing both of those things from him. It makes a girl feel good to know that her cunt is satisfying enough to miss. And it makes me happy to have someone say that it belongs to him, not to mention the second meaning of cunt that tells me he missed me. (Which he also said outright in a super adorable way, “I missed you. Like, way more than I thought I would.”)

He thrust deep, hurting me even more (better) in that position. He went hard and fast, and I pushed back into him, his cock slamming into me. He sped up, his breathing changed, and then he came, sliding in and out of me several more times as he did. He pulled out and we cuddled as he basked in his post-orgasm glow.

When he came out of it, we kept playing. He teased me and grabbed me and drew out some lovely pain noises as we kissed and touched each other. Eventually, he pushed my legs up and started slapping the backs of my thighs rapidly and hard. I gritted my teeth and groaned from the sting. When he stopped, he smiled at me and said, “What’s a warm up?” in a laughing tone of voice. I smiled back and said, “That is a warm up.” The way his eyes lit up almost made me regret saying that.

He repeated the treatment, and when he paused, I dropped my legs and rolled over onto my stomach, whimpering. He asked, “What?” and I pouted and said, “That hurt.” He laughed a little and replied, “I know. That’s why I did it.” Then he knelt on my shoulders, holding me firmly in place. I began to wince in anticipation, gasping when he moved. When he resumed smacking my thighs, I gripped the sheet and cried out. I was relieved when he started punching instead. He started pretty light, but as he got more comfortable with the position and my ability to take what he was doling out, he hit harder, alternating between the two legs.

Of course, he’d intersperse this delightful thuddy pain with more smacking, which made me thrash. To no avail, of course, since he was on top of me, keeping me where he wanted me. When he finally stopped, I turned over, laying on my back and looking at him. I said I’d enjoyed it, and he said, “Well, at least the punching.” I did like the punching more, but told him that I liked the slapping as well, since “I like bruises and slapping breaks things” (clearly coherent after that bit of impact play). I also said I liked the fact that he was on top of me, since it made it easier to take the pain. He lifted my legs to admire his handiwork and, after seeing that the right was more red than the left, asked me, “Should they be even?”

I cringed, not answering at first, but knowing full well that I would throw myself under the bus. I hemmed and hawed for a moment until he made me answer. I looked down and said in a small voice, “Yes, they should be even.” He was pleased, and lifted my leg back up. Instead of slapping it, he punched it, not starting soft this time. He punched repeatedly, hard enough that I could tell I wouldn’t be able to take it for very long, even though I like and can handle thuddy better. He was beating the shit out of me now, and clearly super into it. I teared up a bit from the pain and feeling bad about wanting to make him stop. I resisted safewording for a little, but as I turned onto my side and he held my leg in place, the pain and (totally unnecessary) guilty feelings about wanting to put an end to the impact made me start actually crying. I managed to whimper out, “Red, red!”

Without hesitation, The Violinist stopped immediately and lay behind me, holding me as I cried. I apologized for safewording, to which he responded, “No.” I know it’s not something to feel bad about or apologize for, but I did. I communicated that to him and told him that I was okay, I just needed it to stop. He was entirely understanding and reassured me repeatedly that it was fine and good for me to tap out when I need to. That’s obviously the response I should expect, but it’s nice to have it happen.

We cuddled, kissed, and played a little, and then he asked me if getting off would help me get work done. I said, “Whatever you want, [The Violinist],” and he told me to give him a real answer. “Well, it couldn’t hurt?” I responded. He laughed and told me I could masturbate. I caught the wording and asked if I could come.

“Ask again later,” came the obvious response. I lay back and pulled out my bullet, pressing it to my clit. The Violinist sat next to me and watched, slapping and punching my inner thigh occasionally, which both turned me on and distracted me. I settled into a groove and he got on top of me, pressing me into the bed, his thigh between my legs. I moaned and started fantasizing hard. My orgasm snuck up on me, and I almost forgot to ask permission. Almost.

I opened my eyes and asked, “May I please cum?” He responded, “Ask again later.” I tried again, with what I thought was a good enough correction, “May I please cum, [The Violinist]?” but he repeated his previous response. My eyes widened and I worried my orgasm would be ruined. I said, “May I please cum, [The Violinist]? [The Violinist], may I please cum? Please, [The Violinist], may I cum?].” It was some of the most genuine begging I’ve ever engaged in. I was frantic and heartfelt and incredibly desperate. [The Violinist] finally granted me permission and I got back into it. I started to cum and he wrapped his hand around my neck, squeezing. I felt it in my head as my orgasm continued, and rode that lovely combination of sensations as long as I possibly could.

When I opened my eyes, [The Violinist] was looking at me. He looked pleased and said, “Your face when I told you to ask again…” he trailed off, closed his eyes, and made a pleased noise, like he was savoring the memory. Hearing him say that was a big turn on. I really enjoy how much pleasure he took from my reaction to him playing games with my head. Sadists are fun.

What a lovely evening. The fucking and the beating were quite satisfying, and I’m even optimistic that I’ll get bruises out of it. I’m so glad he came over. It was something that both of us needed, even outside of the fact that it was incredibly fun. It was a lovely preward (pre-reward?) for staying up all night doing work.

onelonelycock replied to your post “I’ve made a terrible mistake in getting on tumblr. l have not been…”

Make that pussy cum girl❤️❤️

Thank you!

I got off twice. Once fantasizing about cuffing Reaction Junkie to the bed, blindfolding him, gagging him, pulling down his pants and underwear and riding him with a vibe pressed against my clit until I came, while telling him how much I enjoy having his cock in me and how I’d been fantasizing about doing all of that. Then I got off a second time thinking about having someone hold me down, fuck my cunt hard and then switch to my ass while I whimpered and protested and begged, “Please, Daddy. It’s going to hurt.” as they slowly pushed their cock into me, stretching my hole and making me groan and moan, telling me that I needed to be brave for them and how good my tight ass felt around their cock.

Time to do work!

I’ve made a terrible mistake in getting on tumblr. l have not been very productive and now I’m distractingly horny.

Y'all are terrible. <3

Does someone want to give me permission to have an orgasm so I can focus? Please? I think I still need permission from a man.

Yesterday I saw The Violinist. I went over to his place with the invitation to come over and “talk about things.” I correctly interpreted that as a desire to DTR, which I wanted to do, as well. When I got there, I stripped, per his rules for me, and we lay in bed for a while. Before we could talk, however, we needed to do a few things. He’d been out of town for a couple weeks, so we had to give each other a proper hello.

He hit me, bit me, scratched me and hurt me. I yelped, whimpered, squeaked, and made other delightful pain noises. He’s totally a sadist, which makes me eager to suffer for his pleasure. When he pushed his cock into me, the pain didn’t stop. He continued to hurt me as he fucked me hard. He pushed his fingers hard into my armpits, and the uncomfortable and painful sensation eventually caused me to struggle away. I took a few breaths and turned over onto my knees, which is a position I know he enjoys. He fucked me from behind until he came, slamming into my cunt and making me wince.

He collapsed onto my back, and I collapsed onto the bed. When we recovered enough to cuddle, I asked him if I could get off. He agreed, and I rubbed my clit and fantasized while he hurt and choked me. I came, shuddering and gasping, and lay back, spent. He instructed me that the next time, I was to ask permission right before I got off, and I smiled at the addition of another rule. We showered and headed back to bed to cuddle.

We talked about what our relationship is and what words we’re comfortable using (we’re dating and “partners” works). We made plans to spend more time together outside of kink events and happy hours and talked about what kind of kink relationship we want to develop. Both of us love d/s, and I’m excited to see where that dynamic goes. I asked about honorifics, and he had an interesting response. He likes having his name used. I was somewhat put out at first (I really like the term “Sir”), but when he explained his reasoning, I got into the idea. It’s something you can use in any context and around any people. Besides that, using someone’s name lets them know that you are thinking specifically about them. We also talked about jealousy and discussed how very important we both consider communication to be.

I left his place feeling de-stressed, happy, and ready for bed. Today I had to wear a high necked shirt and put makeup on my neck because he left a bite mark there. I also can’t take off my sweatshirt at work because he darkened the bruises that were there already and left me new scratch marks. DTRing can be fun!

Last night I went over to Legolas’ place. He was sore from a bike ride over the weekend, so I planned on it being a low key night. I offered to make butternut squash mac ‘n cheese and some kale, and he made us baked potatoes. We chatted while we cooked, he groped me a few times, and it was all very pleasant. Eventually, we were just waiting on the pasta to cook. Legolas asked me if that was all that was left, and when I said it was, he said “Get on your knees.” I smiled and complied immediately. He took out his cock and I got to work, wrapping my lips around it and taking it into my mouth. He allowed me to control the pace at first, but then he grabbed my head and used my mouth like the fuckhole it is. I tried not to pull away and be a good hole for him, even when there was spit all over my face and I wanted to wipe it away. Shortly before the pasta was done, he stopped and pulled his cock out of my mouth. He seemed pretty pleased with himself. I know I was happy to get a chance to be doubly useful in the kitchen.

We took the food up to his room and watched a documentary about atheism on Netflix while we ate because obviously. When we finished, he asked if I had to go. I told him I could stay if he wanted, and he asked, “If I fuck your cunt, are you going going to be a whiny little bitch about it?” I smiled, because I love having him hurt my cunt, and told him that no, I would not be. He grabbed me and dragged me by the hair over to the bed and threw me down on it. Before I really knew what was happening, his cock was in my mouth and he was fucking my face. I did my best to just take the abuse as his cock hit the back of my throat with force. He stopped at one point and as I gasped for air, he asked me “Do you want more of that?” I took a breath and told him that I did want more, which he gladly gave me.

When he stopped fucking my face, I didn’t get more than a few seconds before he pulled me by my hair over to the side of the bed. I knew what was coming, but it’s always a little bit of a shock when his cock slips all the way in when he starts throatfucking me. It hurts and I can’t breathe and it’s scary. I always end up crying at least a little bit from the violence and from having my airway blocked. And I love it when he uses me that way.

Tonight was no different, and he pushed his cock all the way in, making me grip the sheets, struggling not to panic and, more importantly, not to jerk away from him. He used my throat hard, pushing almost until I couldn’t handle any more before letting me up to cough and breathe for a moment before pulling my head back down and sliding his cock back into my throat. He did this repeatedly, slapping me and pulling my hair when I wasn’t taking his cock. When I gagged and half-vomited in my mouth a couple times, he just laughed at me. My face was covered in my own sputum, which is one of my least favorite substances to be covered in. Partway through, he opened his bathroom door so I could watch my hole being violated. As he fucked my throat hard, he commented that I’d improved since he’d started doing this to me. I would have smiled at the compliment if I hadn’t been busy fighting my own body’s natural reaction to pull away when something big is shoved down my throat.

Finally, he stopped abusing my throat and pulled me over to the side of the bed. He lay down in the middle of the bed and said we could take a break. I like to think I earned it. Of course, I wasn’t going to get to just sit back and relax. No, I was to continue using my mouth on his cock. He told me, “If you do it good enough this way, we don’t have to go back to the other way.” I took as much of him as I could, pushing myself and using my tongue at the same time. I was focused on what I was doing, so when he asked, “Have you been giving a lot of blowjobs lately?” it surprised me. I told him I hadn’t been and he said, “You’re better at it.” I appreciated the compliment and went back to servicing him with my mouth.

Either I didn’t do quite good enough a job, despite my improvement, or he just felt like fucking my throat again, because Legolas grabbed my hair and pulled me back over the side of the bed. I shied away once or twice, instinct overtaking my brain for a moment, but then gripped the bed. He held my arms down and slid his cock all the way into my throat. I did my best to just accept the violation, wanting to be good for him. He stopped for a moment and told me, “I’m going to do this for a while longer, then I’m going to fuck your cunt, and then I’m going to cum on your face.” I liked the sound of that plan. Not that it mattered, since he wasn’t asking if I was okay with him doing those things, he was telling me what was going to happen.

He fucked my throat for a while longer, and when he finally finished, I coughed and caught my breath for a moment. I took out my tampon and sat back on the bed. “Spread your legs for me.” I opened my legs, hesitating only a little, both looking forward to and dreading the pain I would be getting. “Look how wet you are,” he told me. And I was. I was wet enough for him to get his cock in, just from having my mouth and throat abused. He pushed in, making me wince, and started fucking me hard. He looked down at me, alternating between moaning with pleasure and grimacing from pain and discomfort. “Do you feel like a third wave feminist now?” he asked me. I said “yes,” and I did. I felt like a silly woman who gives men whatever they want under the guise of being “empowered.” In reality, I know I’m just fulfilling my role as a woman, having my holes used for the entertainment and pleasure of men.

In the middle of hurting me with his cock, he slowed and started thrusting less deeply. “See?” he said, “I can make it feel really good.” He pushed a finger in my mouth and started rubbing my clit while he was fucking me. Now I was just getting pleasure, and I started moaning a little, although I was still jumpy, sure that he was going slap me in the face at any moment. He asked me if I was going to get off, and I told him I didn’t have permission. He pointed out that I can always ask him and see what the answer might be. I asked if I could please have permission, and he asked if I was going to get off. I responded that I thought maybe I could, but that I didn’t want to take time from him doing something else. He told me that he was doing exactly what he wanted with me and I shouldn’t worry about it. “Just sit there and look pretty,” he said, making me laugh, “And laugh at my jokes.”

Well, even a dumb cunt like me can do that, so I relaxed as he started working on my clit. “Let’s bring in some help,” he said, and grabbed his Hitachi and put a condom on it. (Ladies, try not to date men who don’t own their own Hitachis.) He pressed the Hitachi against me and started fucking me again. He was giving me the D and the Hitachi. I did get close, and normally I would have been able to get off without much difficulty with treatment like that, but I’ve been having some depression-caused sex drive issues that are accompanied by orgasm difficulties. Eventually, I stopped him and explained that I didn’t think I was going to be able to get off. He was very understanding and told me I had nothing to worry about. “I was going to ruin it anyway,” he told me. What a sweet guy. How did I get so lucky?

He said he’d been getting close and started fucking me again. Looking at me, he asked, “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve given me whatever I want from you. Why?” “Because you give me a little attention,” I responded. That’s the truth. I’m desperate, and I’ll do pretty much anything a man asks of me, just for a bit of the male attention and approval I crave. Legolas commented that getting fucked hurts more when he does it from behind, and made me flip over. He pushed back into me and started fucking me, making it hurt. From behind it’s less of a mix of pleasure and pain, and more just plain suffering. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head up, his cock slamming into my cunt and making me cry out in pain.

He pulled out and tossed me a towel to put under my head. Kneeling over me, he stroked his cock while I licked his balls and rubbed my cunt. He had me stop and instructed, “Beg me not to cum on your face.” I don’t feel like I’m very good at begging, but I wasn’t about to refuse. “Please don’t cum on my face. I don’t want you to. It’s going to be a mess. Please don’t. No, please! Don’t cum on my face!” I pleaded. Legolas grabbed my head and covered my face in his cum as I begged him not to. It was incredibly hot to have him want me to ask him not to do something and then, of course, do it anyway. I really like having my desires ignored and even actively violated.

“I almost believed you didn’t want me to do it,” he said as he wiped himself off. I’m glad my begging was satisfactory, if not prizewinning. We cleaned off ourselves and I got dressed. We took the food downstairs and I did the dishes, like a woman should do. Legolas told me a couple times that he really enjoyed the evening. I did as well. I’d been feeling depressed and mopey and antisocial, and my sex drive has been mostly dead. Obviously I’m not completely fixed, but I feel rejuvenated and more like my old self. Happier.

Sometimes you just need a night of delicious vegan food, being treated like a set of holes, and getting fucked. Hard.

Part 2

I drove The Violinist and myself back to his apartment. We stopped on the way to get food, since I was starving. The first thing he said when we walked through the door was, “Strip.” I smiled, relishing being ordered around. I took off my clothing and we talked and ate. He was sitting in a chair and instructed me to sit at his feet, which I appreciated. When we were done with the food, he grabbed me and tossed me onto the bed to start hurting me. He’s most definitely a sadist, judging by how thoroughly he was enjoying my reactions to the suffering he inflicted on me.

He pushed me over so that I was face up on the bed, and got on top of me. He’s a boney motherfucker, so when he jabbed his knees into my already tender thighs and leaned his weight on me, it hurt like hell. He was slapping my thighs and tits, and then started punching. The thighs I could handle, and, in fact, I like having my thighs punched. But the tits? Oof. I much prefer having them slapped. I felt his fist pounding my flesh and writhed and fought my instincts, trying to stay still.

Throughout all of this, and the rest of the night and the next morning, he would make kissing sounds at me, like you would make to get the attention of a dog or cat, and lean just out of reach. I’d have to stretch up, usually worsening whatever pain he was currently causing, and struggle to kiss him. I don’t like kissing most people most of the time, but I enjoyed both the belittling, degrading nature of the game and the way he kisses.

We have an ongoing joke that he needs to even out my bruises after he spent one night giving all of his attention to my left thigh. I foolishly pointed out the bruises on my upper inner left arm to him. He started to press on the bruise left by The Unknown Quantity’s rope, but I jerked away and told him it was incredibly painful. He was feeling magnanimous, I suppose, because instead of using those bruises against me, he grabbed my upper right arm and dig his thumb in. I thrashed around, but of course I had no hope of stopping him. He left two obvious thumb prints on my arm, which, in combination with the ones from The Unknown Quantity on my left arm, mean that I’m back to constantly wearing a sweater or hoodie at work.

The Violinist wasn’t done yet. Far from it. He started grabbing my sensitive thighs and digging his nails in. I struggled and half-tried to get away, making nosies that were much louder than they should have been. I pressed my face into the bed as The Violinist mercilessly squeezed my thighs. I tried and failed to stifle a half-groan, half-scream, and he pushed my head harder into the mattress. He continued to work at my legs with his hands and I kicked and struggled not to be too loud. As the pain grew, screams turned to whimpers, and whimpers into tears. I’d started crying.

While crying isn’t a safeword for me, upon making someone cry, some people choose to stop of their own volition, especially when the crying wasn’t expected. Although I know crying doesn’t bother him (he seems to enjoy it, in fact), The Violinist allowed me to have a chance to catch my breath and stop crying. When I had recovered, we got back into things, him hurting me, me making pain noises. Eventually, he pushed me towards the bathroom and told me to take out my tampon.

When I returned, I lay down on the bed and spread my legs for him. He pushed his cock into my cunt, and I moaned. He has a nice cock that hurts a bit when he pushes it in the whole way. When he discovered that I made pained expressions and noises when he did that, he was delighted. He fucked me hard, continuing to hurt my tits and slapping me in the face a few times. He motioned for me to flip over, and fucked me from behind until he came, groaning and panting.

When we’d both caught our breath, he let me go get my vibrator. He wouldn’t tell me that I had permission to cum before I got close, so I started masturbating with some trepidation. I hadn’t gotten off since the previous Monday, but this time, the arousal from the party and playing with The Violinist did the trick. Within a few minutes, I was close. “May I please cum?” I panted. He waited a couple of beats before giving me permission, and I came hard, shuddering and moaning. I continued to experience aftershocks from the orgasm for several minutes. We cuddled up and both passed out, exhausted from the evening.

Part 1

Reaction Junkie was much less sleepy after I revealed his surprise present of me starting to learn rope. We got up and ate leftover pancakes. When we finished eating, we got back into bed. As soon as we were there, we started making out and groping each other. At one point, he almost choked me out. That turned me on like crazy, of course. While I was still recovering, he put his hand over my mouth and blocked my nose so I couldn’t breathe. I struggled, but he was on top of me, so there was no chance of breaking free. When he finally let me breathe, he looked down at me and said, “I missed you.” That was exactly what I had been thinking.

Reaction Junkie had never successfully had anal sex before. I decided that day was the perfect time to change that. I went to the bathroom and cleaned myself out. When I went back to the bedroom, I rolled a condom on him, put some lube on it, and fucked my ass with my fingers for half a minute. Then I climbed on top of him and lowered myself onto his cock. I rode him for a while, then we did it from behind. Finally, I lay on my back while he fucked my ass, which is my absolute favorite position for anal. I loved the feeling of his cock inside my ass, which gets unfortunately little use these days. We kept fucking until Reaction Junkie got struck with a wave of exhaustion.

We cuddled up and watched Netflix, alternating How I Met Your Mother and Archer. Not gonna lie, while I got turned on by mentions of choke sex in Archer. Reaction Junkie noticed, and soon enough we were doing some choking of our own. At some point, Reaction Junkie started playing with my cunt. I focused in on it and started fantasizing. I got off. He continued rubbing my clit, and I got off a second time. He was still tired, so I watched a bit more TV and he passed out. I joined him in sleep not too much later. We napped for a couple hours and then headed back to his place.

When we got there, we messed around for a while. I told him I wanted him to get off. Once he started masturbating, I got incredibly turned on, so I joined him. I had one orgasm, and felt like I could go for another, so I went for it. After that one, I thought I’d just relax, but being next to Reaction Junkie as I listened to him and felt him moving turned me on like crazy, so I got myself off again. I was sure I’d be done after that, but I could tell Reaction Junkie was getting close. I felt my cunt clench in response, so I gave myself a fourth orgasm.

When I’d recovered, Reaction Junkie asked, “How many times was that?” “Seven,” I said, “I like that ratio. My other relationships have been too much in the other direction.” His response was, “I like it, too.” Dear god. What a fucking catch. We got ready for bed, but neither of us was tired after sleeping most of the day away, so we stayed up for a couple of hours talking and watching Netflix together.

A perfect reunion.

“No, you may not use the bathroom.” He ignores my desperate pleas as the 5 bottles of water he made me drink before the party quickly catch up with me. He tells me to stop bothering him and let him talk to people. Before I can ask again, he grabs me around the middle and squeezes me against him, continuing his conversation as if nothing is happening. I moan from the pain-tinged arousal that always results from having my full bladder compressed. The other people in the group hide their smiles and stifle their laughter, but I blush anyway, embarrassed for them to know how much this is turning me on. When he lets go, I stand next to him and dance from leg to leg as I try to focus on the conversation.

When it starts to hurt, I say in a quiet voice, “Please let me pee? It’s starting to hurt and I’m worried I’m going to wet myself.” He tells me to speak up, that it’s rude to whisper in a group. I look down at the floor, my cheeks flushed, but there’s no denying the way my cunt feels as I say, loud enough for everyone to hear, “May I please pee? It really hurts and…and I’m worried I’m going to wet myself.” He grins at me, enjoying my distress, and turns to the group, “Should I let her go to the bathroom?” he asks. The others laugh and respond, half kind, half cruel.

He considers for a moment before saying, “Let’s compromise. You may piss, but you may not use the bathroom. Sit on the floor.” He points towards the wall. I stare at him, not understanding. He gives me one of those looks and says more sharply, “Sit on the floor. Back against the wall. And spread your legs so everyone can see.” I slowly walk to the other side of the room, my bladder aching, and position myself as instructed.

The whole party is looking at me now. He walks over to me and says, “Go ahead. You have permission to piss.” “But…but I can’t. Not in front of everyone! You have to let me go to the bathroom, please!” I respond in horror. He grabs my hair, forcing me to look at him, and slaps me in the face. “Did you just refuse? And tell me what I ‘have’ to do? I think you’re forgetting how this works.” He slides his hand under my panties and continues, half turning to the group, “Besides, I can tell how much you want to do this. Your cunt is fucking soaking. You know what? Since this is your birthday party, not only am I going to forgive you for the backtalk, I’m going to be extra nice.” He hands me a vibrator. “Hold this on your clit. In addition to permission to piss, you also have permission to cum.”

Thoroughly embarrassed now, but reminded of my place by his voice and the slap, I turn on the toy and press it against my throbbing clit. I close my eyes, still feeling the pressure of everyone looking at me, and attempt to relax my muscles, trying to focus on the vibrations running through my cunt. After a minute, I’m finally able to let go. As soon as I do, I feel the relief of my emptying bladder as my panties are soaked in warm piss. I look up to see everyone watching, some people amused, some aroused, some disapproving. The humiliation and arousal and release of finally, finally being allowed to pee overwhelm me and I cum hard, legs shaking, body trembling, head pressed back against the wall.

When I’m finally feel able to think again, still shivering with aftershocks, legs gone numb, I slowly open my eyes to see him crouched over me, smiling, “Happy birthday, pisswhore.”

I just spent a day and two nights with The Anarchist Economist, and I’m working on a couple posts about all of the fun we had.

But I wanted to share one of my favorite moments. We stayed up late and played around for a while, and then we were supposedly trying to go to sleep.

But we started talking about this and that, life and experience, politics and ideology. I asked him a few questions, and he answered them thoughtfully and intelligently, and used the kind of words that really appeal to me.

I started getting turned on, so I told him I was going to masturbate and that he was going to be helpful by talking to me. I instructed him to start with fantasies, and if he ran out of ideas, to just start talking about the kinds of things we’d been discussing, or anything, really. His voice is super sexy.

I turned on my vibrator and he started describing a couple of fantasies, but then switched to talking about more academic topics. He commented that he was going to speaking at some conferences, and that he like the idea of me giving him a blowjob or hurting him while he tried to practice.

My hips bucked and I squeezed his leg a little tighter when he said that. The idea of listening to him practice is a huge turn on. Then The Anarchist Economist started describing some of what he might be talking about, and that’s when I realized I totally was going to get off listening to him talk about something academic.

He continued talking for a few minutes, and as he was winding up commentary on problems with intellectual property rights, my whole body tensed. I gasped, moaned, and came.

I immediately felt a little embarrassed, and covered my face, but I was mostly amused and pleased, so I also laughed, as did TAE. I was about to suggest that he make a recording for me, when he told me that I should be able to find videos of him at other conferences. I’m definitely going to make a personal recording of him, but in the meantime, I’m going to have to use those to get off when he isn’t here.

Lest you been concerned that, after a date with Boy Genius where he was super nice to me and then a date with sub-leaning switch Puppy, I might be getting silly ideas about being equal to men or think that what I want matters, I thought I’d share the story of the orgasm after I had my first date with Puppy.

Due to…partner issues, Marxman and I hadn’t been playing for a little while. We’ve still been talking, though, and on Friday night after my date with Puppy, we started Skyping. I told him about my night and cleaned up my living room. When I finished cleaning, we started just talking. I was being obnoxious/annoying in a way that, had we been playing, I would have described as “bratty.” Normally I don’t do that, since I like being a good girl and don’t want punishments, but I figured there wasn’t anything he could do, so I kept going, talking negatively about men, even though they’re clearly my superiors, being stubborn with him, disagreeing in silly ways, teasing him about me being obedient, etc.

At one point, I was emptying my suitcase from when I visited my owner, and I took out a paddle. I think I was teasing hitting myself with it, and he told me, with a bit of that voice, to hit myself on the ass with it. I balked and danced around for a bit, but I’d wanted to do it in the first place (hence the showing it to him), so I whacked myself a few times. It had seemed a bit like playing, but I wasn’t going to tell him what he could and couldn’t do, especially since he’d been able to do more and more things after conversations with his partner.

I went into the bathroom and we started talking about the punishment The Fascist had threatened, which was to lick the inside of the toilet while masturbating. I commented that it was super gross and I definitely didn’t want to do it. Marxman said he’d like to see it if I did, and I jokingly offered to lick the outside for him, since I had no intention of getting punished. He took me up on it, and I licked the outside of my toilet, in a headspace of being amused, not submissive. Then he told me to lick the seat. I laughed and said, “Dude. You can’t play and I’m not in subspace.” “Do you want to be in subspace?,” he asked. My response was immediate, “Always.”

His voice changed and there was a noticeable shift in the dynamic between us. “Lick the seat all the way around three times,” he commanded. I whimpered, but complied. Once, twice, three times I ran my tongue around the toilet seat. When I was done, I sat back on my heels and looked at him, feeling fuzzy and subby, my cunt hot. I waited to see what he would say next. He looked at me and said calmly, “In case you couldn’t tell, [my partner] texted.”

I shivered in a combination of arousal and nervousness. I’m very happy to have him back and able to play. He knows how to treat me, we have pretty compatible kinks, and he’s got an awesome voice and enjoys using it to help me get off. That night, despite my bratty behavior, he was kind enough to use it that way.

I spread my legs and moved the camera so he could see me holding the vibe on my clit. He started to talk to me about an ongoing shared fantasy in which he holds me down and fucks my cunt, cumming in me while I struggle and beg him not to. I told him, a bit impishly, “I wouldn’t let you cum in me.” That just made him laugh. He’s decided he wants to do it, and nothing I say or do is going to stop him, if he gets the chance. He commented about how much bigger he is than I am, about twice my size. It would be nothing for him to hold me down and do whatever he wanted to me.

He pointed out how it would be especially great to cum in me against my will because I’m not on birth control, so I’d actually be risking pregnancy.  He described filling my cunt with cum and sending me out to get EC with it dripping down my leg. He talked about taking it away from me. He said he’d cum in me many times before he’d let me use it. If he let me use it.

I begged him not to cum in me, offered him anything he wanted, tieed to reason with him. None of it changed the inevitable, although he did enjoy my pathetic attempts and whimpers. Eventually, he told me, “Tell me you want it.” I shuddered and moaned out, “Please cum in me. I want you to cum in my cunt. Fill me. I need to feel you cum inside me. I want to feel it dripping down my leg. I want you to be the first person to cum in me.” He continued talking about overpowering me and using my hole and just ignoring everything I want just for his own pleasure.

A few moments later, I had an explosive, mindblowing orgasm, thinking about him forcing me to get off at the same time he was emptying himself into me, looking into his eyes, listening to him mock me for cumming as I’m being violated like that. This orgasm was fucking ridiculous. Besides feeling like I’d gone out and being unable to move, I almost pulled a Ted Mosby on this guy I’ve known for a few weeks, no joke. Fucking neurotransmitters. It was goddamn fantastic.

What a pathetic, stupid, horny little bitch I am to have that reaction to thinking about having my unprotected cunt raped and risking being impregnated against my will, to begging to have that happen, to the idea of being taunted as it happened. The worst part is, I really don’t want it. That’s the point. I want him to know what I want and decide to ignore it because it just doesn’t matter to him.

Today was going to be low key. It started out that way, getting vegan brunch with Buzz and Lioness. Then we went and hung out in the park. A couple hours in, Buzz asked if I wanted to go back to his place. Of course I did. That’s when it got less low key.

I ended up in their bed, Buzz’s hands on my cunt while Lioness hit me and choked me. She half put me out, and I said that she could totally do it again if she wanted. A few minutes later, her hand was around my throat again, my vision started narrowing, my head went fuzzy, and then I was half-aware, but entirely uncertain as to what was going on. Obviously Lioness had choked me out, and, as I started to come out of it more, I felt more comfortable. However, they were laughing at my reaction to going out, which, in the moment, was upsetting. That, combined with the fear and stress of being choked out made me start to cry. It was sort of bad crying, but at the same time, it felt good. I guess I’m kinda into being made to cry, huh?

They immediately switched to being nice, comforted me, and then Buzz ate me out some more and got me off with his hands, I gave him a blowjob, he came in my mouth, and we all took a nap.

Vegan brunch, being choked, being made to cry, getting off, getting someone else off, and a giant nap. A good way to finish off the weekend.

Reaction Junkie just got me off once, twice, then three times, and then a fourth time. All while a show was on in the background, and even though I thought I couldn’t keep going after the second time.

My orgasms got him rock hard, so we fucked. I was desperate for him, for his cock. I needed it inside me. It felt fantastic to lower myself onto it. I rode him, whimpering and moaning, listening to the sounds he was making. I was incredibly turned on by his arousal, and by the feeling of his cock filling my cunt.

He flipped us over and fucked me. Having him thrusting into me, his weight on top of me, feeling his skin on mine, listening to our twin panting. It all just served to turn me on more. He came, which always makes me feel good about myself, and then said, “I love you.” I grinned and told him, “I love you, too.”

I’d started on the path to another orgasm as we fucked, and as soon as he was out of me, my fingers found their way to my clit. I was soaking wet from the four orgasms he’d given me and from getting the fucking I’d been craving. I rubbed myself, and soon, with much less mental effort than usual, I came hard, moaning and shuddering as the orgasm went through me. It took quite a while for it to completely subside, and I still feel spent.

He’s so goddamn sexy.

I just had an orgasm at work, sitting at my desk. I was talking to Marxman and he mentioned enjoying choking before sex, followed by a throw to the ground and then using whatever hole is most accessible based on how a bitch lands. Then he said it was usually her ass, and his previous partner didn’t get lube.

I started rubbing my cunt, and, after I got permission and sent him the requested picture, I came hard and fast, thinking about being choked, tossed around like a doll, and having my ass painfully fucked, no lube, my suffering only making him harder.

While I was sitting in my office at work, door open, visible if anyone had walked past. I’m a pathetic, desperate slut.

I just woke up and got fucked. And then we both got ourselves off, me while The Unknown Quantity fingered my “tight little ass.” His words, not mine. :)

And then I found a couple of choice messages in my inbox. One is a lovely little assumption making, rape fantasy kink shaming message. The other says that I should be shit on and beaten, not just pissed on.

Strangely enough, neither of them is on anon. I guess I appreciate the bravery(?) of not being anon when you’re sending hateful or obnoxious messages. I think I may have to answer them publicly, though. Because really? Who does that? Who sends those messages?

(Also because I think y'all will appreciate my responses.)

I just got off after a night of fun with The Unknown Quantity. After giving him a blowjob and helping him get off, of course.

To start the evening, we had delicious food and watched Firefly. Then we started playing.

He tied me to the wall, arms spread, rope around my torso, leg in the air, leaving me in a lovely little predicament. Then he started hurting me. He hit me repeatedly with his hands, and then grabbed a thick stick, involving it with the rope to leave my tits compressed and my chest tight, making it hard to breathe.

He proceeded to stab me with the little knifeplay torture device he’d used on my before. He kept going and going, and I started to cry. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I needed a good cry. I had an emotional week, both good and bad feels, and it struck me that I hadn’t cried about any of it.

I checked in with him to make sure that wouldn’t be upset if I cried more. Then I just let loose. All of the feelings of the week (jealousy, excitement, affection, sadness, loss, anxiety, connectedness, and more) struck me in a wave, and as he continued hurting me, I had the cathartic cry I hadn’t even known I needed.