Tag Archives: spunk

Save all your spunk for me

Me: It was so fucking hot yesterday when I edged and teased you for ages. Do you have a massive load of spunk to dump inside me today?

Him: *sheepishly* I had a wank.

Me: Oh OK! No worries.

Him: Sure?

Me: Yes of course hahahaha of course totally fine no worries at all!

My brain: You’re a really terrible liar, GOTN.

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Spunk-milking: the climax of my Fleshlight Launch experiment

I’m a big fan of build-up and anticipation. This period of time just before Christmas is often more fun than Christmas itself for me, because while it exists only in my mind it can pretty much always be perfect. The coolest Christmas presents look brilliant under the tree when they’re wrapped, but in the afterglow of the opening frenzy there’s always the worry that the amazing thing you picked out to give your special someone will end up disappointing them. Without the shiny paper it’ll be mundane and obvious. Potentially even embarrassing. The same is true of sex fantasies.

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Competition – a gang bang with a twist

Brace yourself: I think this might be the most narcissistic, self-centered wank fantasy I’ve ever had. But seeing as it’s given me so many excellent afternoon distractions, I thought I’d share it with you. It involves a gang bang, a competition, and a hell of a lot of struggle-fucking.

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Bukkake fantasy: reality and beyond

A thing that has never happened: group of guys stand around me in a circle. I, blindfolded and semi-naked (the better to get my underwear smeared and dirty), lie open-mouthed on the floor beneath them. One of them starts to squirt jizz. It splatters from a height onto my stomach. Watching it sets the others off, and they each rub their dicks harder, pumping ropes of spunk over my waiting face. The traditional bukkake fantasy, if you like.

A thing that has happened: mid-fuck with a single guy, he pulls out. He stands up quickly, straddling me with his legs. He looks down on me as he beats at his dick, then sprays come on me from a height, so it makes a satisfying pitter-patter as it lands on my neck and chest.

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Sometimes it’s my job to disgust you

Sometimes I want to arouse you. Sometimes I want to rant at you. I always want to entertain you. But occasionally I want to disgust you.

Partly because I think it’s important to highlight the fucking weird things we all do sometimes, because it makes everyone else feel a bit less weird about themselves. Partly because we’re constantly – constantly – told that experimenting with our bodies or enjoying them is dirty and bad and wrong (especially if we’re women).

But mostly because so much of what we think about sex is based on knee-jerk reactions, and when our knee-jerk reaction is one of disgust it’s worth examining why we feel disgusted. Is there a rational reason for it? Or is it, like that dildo made from human ashes, just something we condemn because our gut tells us we should?

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