Tag Archives: it was a five blog post night

He can’t come and I don’t care

He can’t come. Not now. It’s three in the morning and we’re both exhausted. He can’t come. But I sit on his cock anyway.

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Real life vs sex blogger life: challenging wanks

Last Sunday’s instalment of ‘sex blogger life’, in which I was watching my boyfriend masturbate to porn and trying not to move, ended on not-quite-a-cliffhanger. Me, dripping with horn, sitting on an office chair in the corner of the room while my boyfriend did his best to pretend I wasn’t watching as he beat one out to an especially hot porn video. Today we’re going to pick up where I left off, just as he declares that it’s time for a break in the proceedings…

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Watching my boyfriend masturbate to porn: hottest moments

Watching my boyfriend masturbate is one of my favourite treats. If you offered me the choice between it, or a trip to Thorpe Park, I’d tell you to crack out the lube because the Saw rollercoaster is disappointing in comparison. I’ve already told you about watching him wank in the shower, so for those who enjoyed that (and there are, apparently, plenty of you), here’s a more recent iteration: watching my boyfriend masturbate to porn. Let’s break down some of the hottest moments in a kind of highlight reel.

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Fuckstick adventures: I got fucked with a dildo on a stick

The fuckstick makes him feel powerful, he tells me. A fuckstick, in case you were wondering, is quite literally a dildo on a stick – a fat blue silicone cock moulded, in this case, onto just over a metre of solid wooden handle, with a leather grip at the other end. Thanks to my site sponsors Godemiche for sending me this wand of wonder. It’s a sex toy that invites dominance. It oozes power. The very act of holding it makes his lip curl upwards in a dominant sneer, and allows him the confidence to issue me strict instructions: “Bend over.”

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“Let’s swap clothes”: Watching my boyfriend strip for me

I like it when he wears my knickers. I like it when he wears short silk shorts, too – the kind he’s bought for me but that look too good on him for us not to share the pleasure. Given my love of seeing him wearing my clothes, it’s inevitable that one night I suggest to him: “Let’s swap clothes.”

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