Tag Archives: hand jobs
On Schroedinger’s wank: watching men masturbate
This week I walked in on a boy wanking. Late at night, I woke up to go to the loo, spotted the light on in the living room, and thought I’d pop in to casually grope him before sleepily wandering off to bed. You know how I love watching boys crack one out – there’s a beautiful desperation about the urge to come, and I relish seeing that on his face. But of course, the most beautiful wanks of them all are Schroedinger’s Wanks – the ones I would change just by observing them. The wanks I am destined never to see…
Fingering: I miss getting fingered the way I used to
I’ve seen a few things recently that have made me rethink my stance on fingering. Until now, that stance has been wholeheartedly ‘pro’, with legs open and jeans pulled down to the middle of my thighs to allow you space to work.
On CFNM (clothed female, naked male)
You’re hot when you’re naked. Not quite as hot as when you’re semi-naked, of course – we’ve discussed that before. But there’s something deeply satisfying about your nakedness against my clothes. Me, in jeans and a soft jersey, sneaking into bed and pressing the whole of myself up against your sleeping flesh.
I’ve had a few people ask me to write about CFNM (it stands for Clothed Female Naked Male – presumably there’s also a CMNF, but that might have to wait for another day). For some people it’s a very specific fetish, and they can’t get off without it. For me, it falls into the same category as most fetishes: I’m not obsessed with it, but I can more than understand why other people are.
It’s often a FemDomme thing, a submissive guy bares all but is denied the pleasure of seeing tits in return. I certainly know a few submissive men who like the idea of being stripped bare and used by a clothed, powerful woman who answers only to the name of ‘Mistress’. But I think it’s more than possible to get tingling hot feelings the other way round too. Whether I’m on top, on the bottom, or floating lazily somewhere in between, having a naked guy between my jeans-clad thighs is a very hot thing indeed. I’ll show you what I mean:
CFNM (Submissive girl, dominant guy)
If you’re naked and I’m not none of the usual things occur. You can’t squeeze my tits or bite my nipples as you call me a dirty girl and ask what I’m hoping you’ll do to me. There are fewer words. Naked and needing release, the only thing for you to do is push me down onto my knees, hold my hair and smile as I suck a fresh erection into your waiting dick.
If you’re naked and I’m not then as I wet the tip of your cock I’ll spread my legs wider, letting the seam of my jeans push tightly against my clit. I’ll hold my hands behind my back so that my tits stretch out my top. And I’ll feel the wetness soaking into the crotch of my knickers.
If you’re naked and I’m not I’ll feel dirtier than I would naked. Because I can’t shower off whatever you cover me in.
I’ll feel the wetness in my knickers, and feel ashamed. If you hold my head still and fuck my face, the spit will run down my chin, my neck, and onto the front of my shirt. And I’ll cross my fingers and will you to call me a messy girl again.
Other way round (Dominant girl, submissive guy)
I like to curl up behind you in the morning, when you’re still asleep and I’m awake and dressed, and fit my body neatly behind yours, my thighs touching the back of yours, my tits squashing against you through my t-shirt. It’s CFNM, but with a different tone to that above.
I like, as you stir ever so slightly, to slip one of my arms under your head and around your neck so that I can pinch your nipples and stroke your chest, the reverse of what you do for me when we go to sleep.
I enjoy the moment as you wake up, roll over and see me there – wide awake and eager for you.
When you’re naked and I’m not I have more of the power. I like being able to look at you exposed and cold, and take my time to run my palms over all of you. I like taking your flaccid cock in my hand and squeezing gently until you’re semi-hard.
But best of all I like to keep my knickers on – sliding them just far enough to one side that I can sit slickly down onto your dick while you place your hands behind your head and wait for me to come.
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On girlwanking
I’m a terrible wanking hypocrite.
I write this in the desperate hope that some of you will send me pictures of your cock, and while imagining others partaking in the most creative, beautiful boywanking, yet I myself am the blandest wanker you’ll ever hope to meet.
First I unzip my trousers…
Sometimes people email me to tell me their sexy details – how they wank, where they come, what they do to bring themselves to a frothing, jizz-splattered conclusion. It’s fantastic to hear, but almost always followed by a question I dread: “what do you do when you’re looking at these pictures?”
It’s a perfectly fair question, but I hate answering it because my answer will probably bore you to death. When I’m alone, I’m not that creative: no frills, no embellishments, no hanging upside-down from a doorframe with one hand tied behind my back and half a carrot up my arse – I just… well… I rub my clit until I come.
Dull, I know. People want more – filth and fantasy and girljuice spraying over a terrifying collection of sex toys. But I can’t lie – I wank boringly. I am a boring wanker.
The thing is, although it’s incredibly tedious to relate, it’s not that tedious to do. Rubbing my clit until I come is one of the most exciting things I can do without either leaving my flat or setting fire to it.
Wanking with sex toys
The one small concession I have to proper creative wanking is a rabbit. I don’t care that it’s a cliché – I love it to death.
Much as I hate to give credit to Ann Summers – the sex shop that sells clothes so hideous and flimsy that it’s physically impossible to actually have sex in them – the rabbit is spectacular. Of all the objects in the known universe, this is the one that has been best designed to make me jizz myself.
While I’m on a roll with this, I’ll answer the question thousands of men have asked: yes, it is better than your cock. Countless light-years better. Obviously. Millions of years of evolution cannot hope to compete with the sexual engineering genius that has produced this, the most powerful cunt-fucking equipment I have ever had the pleasure of sampling.
But it’s not the same
And yet, although it’s infinitely better than your cock, it is still not actually better than having sex with you. On the grounds that… well… it’s made of fucking plastic and won’t bring me a beer afterwards. On the grounds that it doesn’t make that delightful moaning sound or ask me for a blow job, or spank me until I weep.
And likewise, no matter how good the rabbit is (and did I mention that IT REALLY FUCKING IS?) it still doesn’t beat just rubbing my clit until I come. I rarely ever use the rabbit when I’m on my own. Although it’s ruthlessly efficient in helping me to knock out an orgasm in the time it takes most people to whip off their socks, it’s never going to be my favourite.
Perhaps it’s laziness – it is, after all, all the way over there in that drawer. Contentment? More likely – I have a routine and habit, and desire for the familiar. I know exactly what I like, how to do it, and exactly how quickly it will get me off.
I just… you know… quite like rubbing my clit until I come.
On the terror of being confronted by a circumcised cock
The first time I saw a circumcised dick I froze in fear. Not because it looked weird (although for the record: it did. Don’t judge me) but because I didn’t have a sodding clue what to do with it.