This post discusses forced orgasm, which is sometimes a part of consensual non-consent play. I assure you I’d only ever want to do this to a guy who was 100% up for playing this role, but if forced orgasm is not your thing, look away now.
I want to watch a man being milked of his spunk. While he bites his lip and holds back, and screws his eyes tight shut to concentrate on something – anything – else. A guy who is being forced to come, at the same time as he’s been ordered to try not to.
I wish I could remember my most powerful orgasm. Although I don’t believe in an afterlife, I like to think that if there was one, you’d get some ‘life stats’ before you passed over to the other side. Someone would tell you what your happiest day was, and you’d get to relive it. You’d get a tally of how many people, over the course of your existence, had nursed a giant crush on you. And you could see footage of your most powerful orgasm.
Although I can’t remember my own most powerful orgasm, today’s guest blogger can remember his. He is here to tell you all about it – as well as the hot fuck that produced it – in deliciously pervy detail. Enjoy!
For a brief period in my otherwise sofa-based life, I used to go running. Stop laughing at the back. My boyfriend at the time was really into his running, and his enthusiasm for this activity infected me to the point where roughly three times per week I would put on my trainers and gamely wheeze my way along a river while he ran gracefully in front. It was absolutely horrible. Still. Occasionally – VERY occasionally – I managed to get into stride. For a few brief seconds, I’d bounce lightly on my feet, propel myself with power, and breath like a normal person. During those times I got a teeny flash of joy, and a revelation – this is what it must feel like to be GOOD at this! I got the same feeling recently, when going on top during a shag. The perfect rhythm, the right amount of bounce, and a sense that this is what it must feel like to be GOOD at this.
OK gang, listen up because I’m angry. For years – YEARS – I have been recommending the Doxy to anyone and everyone with a clitoris. It’s the turbo-charged fuckstick of my wildest dreams and by my rough calculations it has delivered more orgasms in the three and a half years I’ve owned it than any living human has given me over the course of the rest of my life. Myself included. I love Doxy so much I would recklessly and gleefully abseil down the nearest tall building to unfurl a ‘FUCK YEAH DOXY’ banner that could be read from miles away. But now Doxy has launched a new toy – a compact wand called ‘Doxy Number 3’ – and I am, to put it mildly, livid.
Here are 10 things I hate about the Doxy Number 3.
This is part two of an exceptionally filthy guest blog sent to me by Justine. In part one of this story, she suffered a ruined orgasm at the hands of her boyfriend. Distracted by a seriously hot fuck, she forgot his order that she should let him know before she came. After coming hard around his cock, she realised she’d broken the rule, and he later exacted punishment in the form of a ruined orgasm: working her up to the brink of orgasm then leaving her panting and frustrated. Read the first half of this ruined orgasm story, then pop back here to see how Justine gets her revenge…
Thanks to the gorgeously-voiced Sarah Jane (@sarahjanedoes), who blogs at Marvelous-Darling.com, this post is now available as audio. Click ‘listen here’ at the top of the page, then head to the audio porn hub to hear more sexy stories read aloud.