I’m not a fan of No Nut November (the month-long challenge where people try not to wank for reasons that vary from ‘fine’ to ‘oh God please stop spewing falsehoods about wanking harming your brain’). I like wanking and I dislike people who try to make others feel ashamed or broken because they enjoy a hand shandy. However, there is one huge benefit to the end of No Nut November that I haven’t yet dwelled upon for fear I’ll end up trapped in a horn spiral for the whole of lockdown. Namely: how much fucking jizz there’ll be when everyone who is partaking in it joins a massive beat-one-out party at 12:01 on December 1st.
When we’re fucking, and he’s just about to come, there’s always a split-second moment when he has to decide: hold back or let go? If he pulls out quickly and closes his eyes so he can’t see the wet hole of my twitching cunt desperate for him to shove it back in, he can deny himself an orgasm now, but keep it in the bank for another fuck half an hour later. If he lets go, he gets that delightful thudding pulse running through his cock, and the wave of satisfied release as he dumps spunk inside me, but the chances of us fucking again shortly afterwards reduce dramatically. It’s a tricky decision. And sometimes it’s one that he doesn’t get to make.
I’m obsessed, at the moment, with cum. Massive quantities of it. The sensation of it on my skin and the pulsing twitch of someone’s dick as they dump a huge load of cum deep inside me. When we’re fucking these days, I can’t resist begging for it: I want your cum; fill me with cum; give me your cum; please, cum.
After he’s come, he likes to stay inside me. Chatting and whispering and feeling the post-fuck squeezes of my cunt when I giggle. I used to think this was rom-com bullshit – too cheesy and cute for me to bear. But fuck it, it makes him happy, so it’s crept into my repertoire – this post-fuck clinch with him inside me and me enveloping his cock. It’s one of a number of things that don’t tend to happen in porn.