This week’s guest blogger is Katrina England – she writes erotica (which is available on Amazon) and she’s here to talk to you about something I’ve waxed lyrical about before – spunk. Spaff, cum, come, jizz, or whatever you want to call it: if you’re a fan then you’ll love Katrina’s guest blog, in which she explains – in detail – why she has a cum fetish…
I have a cum fetish: here’s what that means
Cum: some love it, some hate it. I, for one, love the gooey mess that only a thick load of jizz can provide. The streams of warm, white fluid being directed at me convey a powerful message, one that tells me that I have done a thorough job providing an extreme degree of pleasure. I love to get it almost anywhere on my body, be it my face, tits, or ass. I love to see the ecstasy of my partner as he releases his heavy load with complete delight.
Experience during adolescence might go a long way in explaining why cum play leads me to such a state of heightened arousal. I remember having the ‘spit or swallow’ discussions with my friends back in high school, and the most common answer was spit. Doing anything else was considered taboo and degrading at the time. But neither spitting nor swallowing was my preferred method of dealing with a guy’s finale. I wanted to play with it, and let it slowly drip down my body.
I have thought many times about the numerous times I have let men cum on me. Some of my partners, despite delivering excellent sexual performances, could not deliver memorable amounts of ejaculate. Others, however, provided me with voluminous amounts of jizz; a few were like firehoses being directed at my body.
My most exciting experience being on the receiving end of a cumshot happened when I was in my mid-twenties. The stud who delivered the goods was in his late thirties. We had been dating for a few weeks, and I knew he had a natural ability for producing large amounts of semen. What a waste, I thought, for him to continue dispensing all of that warm, creamy goodness inside a condom.
One night I told him I wanted his load all over my face. He was eager to provide me with what I asked for. After giving him a long blowjob, he pulled his cock out of my mouth and began stroking it vigorously. I tilted my head back and waited for him to unleash what I had built up with my oral skills. I reflexively closed my eyes as I felt the first ropes of cum land on my forehead. Although I couldn’t open my eyes and see it all as it landed, I could feel it dripping everywhere.
He squeezed out every drop that remained, shaking his cock so that it made its way to my face. Once he was finished, I opened my eyes and looked up at him. I told him to go to the bathroom and bring back my handheld mirror. I wanted to see what I looked like drenched in his goo.
Holding the mirror a few inches from my face, I stared at myself in amazement as I inspected the mess we had made. And I say *we* because I take a lot of credit for pleasing my man in such a way that he erupts like an uncontrollable volcano.
Making a man cum makes me feel powerful, like I hold all of the power in my hands (and later all over me). When I see the last drops of cum dangling from a hard cock, I know that I have used my skills and sex appeal to maximum effect. Spitting or swallowing is not for me. I would rather indulge myself in being covered in the cream that I helped produce. Let the fruits of my labor drizzle down my chin as I celebrate the erotic pleasure that has taken place.