Please put it in me

Image by the brilliant Stuart F Taylor

As a professional porn writer I should be able to find a better way of saying this, but sometimes simplicity conveys meaning far better than detail ever could. I need to ask you a favour: please will you put it in me?

Your dick, I mean. Lest there’s any fucking doubt. Your cock. Your prick. Your penis: put it in me.

That’s it, that’s all I need. That’s everything I’m asking and no more. I want you to put your cock inside me.

Circumstances have conspired so that I haven’t been fucked for weeks, and hear me out on this: I know that ‘weeks’ is not that long in human years. I’ve gone months before without it, and survived. But these weeks are ones in which I’ve repeatedly been on a promise. Or not necessarily a ‘promise’ but a hope at the absolute minimum. And hope so easily leads to me dwelling on it: the sensation of this or that particular dick sliding deep into my wet cunt, and how I’ll tilt my hips to really savour every single inch.

So if circumstances conspire to fuck me over… take those hopes and turn them to wishes which then vanish into thin air… is it any wonder I’m so desperate for you to put it in me?

I need it so much. So fucking much.

You don’t even have to come if you don’t want to. You don’t have to fuck me hard if you’re tired, or whisper horny words if the mood doesn’t strike you. No need to change positions five times or get me off or even pretend to care if I get off at all!

Just put it in me.

Put your dick inside me.

Get it in.

Doesn’t have to be anything fancy! Just fucking put it in.

The other day a man was in my bed (something I rarely allow, but fuck it, we fell asleep while cuddling – don’t tell the internet, it’ll destroy my personal brand) and he was stroking my back really gently. Just… running his hand over my back and my shoulders and my hair and sweet holy mother of Christ my cunt almost hummed with the agony of it. The ache. The glorious, pathetic torture that was him not slipping his cock inside and fucking me.

I’m primed, mate. So primed and so ready so please please put it in me.

While bashing out the first draft of this blog post, I got a message from a guy who lives far away. He’s far too distant to fuck right now but that didn’t stop me hovering over the keyboard on my phone and almost typing those words anyway: any chance you could please put it in me? 

Please, oh please put it in me.

One day last week I had planned to take my very good mood out on someone – meet up, have a pint, then hopefully get an invite back to his place so I could wrap my thighs around him and urge him harder faster fucking ruin me as I milked his dick with my cunt. Circumstances are the real cunts here, though, and they didn’t let it happen in the end.

There was this gutpunch moment of extreme hotness though, just after I’d beaten him at a game and playfully asked him what I’d won. He looked at me darkly and responded “what do you want?” and yeah… you know what I said. You fucking know what I said. I said: “I wanna get fucked.” He kissed me, then. Reached across the table with his big strong arms and grabbed the back of my neck and dragged me up and towards him till I was half-standing and we were snogging in the middle of the pub and LET ME TELL YOU my cunt fucking gushed.

The next morning I woke up to the mental image, and the physical tingling in my neck that reminded me of that kiss across the table and holy fucking shit… where was I? Oh yeah: put it in me.

I need to get fucked. Frankly, I don’t even need it to be a full fuck. Like I say, nothing fancy. No special requests. No need for bells and whistles: just put it in me.

Another day, I was going to go to a sex party! And then we couldn’t go! For extremely valid reasons! But still!

Put it in me.

Please? Please. Please!

Back to the first man again. One who sometimes lets me ride his dick like I’m halfway to winning the grand national. He told me he wasn’t that horny lately so sex probably wasn’t on the cards – a heads-up I was grateful for, because it meant I didn’t build myself up for something that was unlikely to happen. I spent the entire day being extremely restrained. Good, even.

But… I really wanted him to put it in me. And sometimes it’s worth asking, right? Even if you think the answer’s ‘no’?

At about one in the morning, my resolve utterly shattered. I turned to him and said: “OK, I’m totally going to respect your ‘no’ if that’s the answer, and I know you said you probably don’t want to shag but I’d kick myself if I didn’t at least attempt to offer this counterpoint… pleeeeeeease?”

I’m not proud, my friends. Never proud. Pride is merely a curtain to rip aside so I can get to the trophy in the display cabinet beyond: the prize that is you putting your rock-hard cock all the way in to my cunt.

I need someone to put it in me. Slowly, if possible: one long slow firm thrust, so I can feel every atom of it on the in-stroke.

Or quick, if that’s what you want! I’m not fussy! If you’d rather slam it home nice and deep in a split second, I’m good with that too.

You can call me ‘baby’ while you do it, if that’s what you want. Call me ‘pathetic’ or ‘bitch’ or even someone else’s name. Cover my face with a pillow and pretend I’m a fucking Fleshlight if that’s what works for you.

Just please put it in me. Your dick, inside me.

I’ll be so sated. So happy.

So! Fucking! Grateful!

If you’d please, just once, just a bit… put it in me.






Note: I’m lamenting my pathetic horn here, not the fact that sometimes it’s a ‘no’. Sometimes people just can’t have sex because they aren’t in the mood or they’re busy or poorly or tired or their boss calls cos the servers are fucked or the fire alarm goes off in the building or something. Life happens. It is entirely valid and completely fine, and I like it when men say ‘no’ to me. I have a lovely time with all these dudes even when they don’t  put it in me (that is why I like them enough to want them to put it in me in the first place). I just thought I’d smash out something that came direct from the heart. Or rather, the cunt. 


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