Remember a while back when I wrote about how great it is to have tits? This week’s blog post is on a similar theme, but with a different incredible body part. It’s a post I have desperately, eagerly, fervently hoped someone might write, because I want to experience and feel the perspective on genitals I do not have myself. So please give not just a warm welcome but a standing ovation to Kara, who has written a guest blog about the joy of having a cock that is so evocative and descriptive I almost felt myself getting a ghost boner as I read it. Take it away Kara…

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“Breathe for me,” he says, all soft-dom calm and patient. I’m lying on my back and his dick is almost inside me. It’s taken a lot of work for us to get to this point. And by ‘work’ I mean, of course, ‘fun’. I’ll explain all that in a second, but for now just know that I’m lying on my back, folded in half, and he’s got his hands on my thighs. Holding my ass at the perfect angle for him to slip his cock in with least resistance. There is still resistance, though, because he’s got girth and I’m lacking in practice. That’s where the meditative breathing comes in.

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It’s 11:24 in the evening, and we’ve already had a phenomenal time. A card, a cute gift, cake even. A devastating fuck that was as playful as it was brutal, which ended in him thoroughly draining his balls nice and deep in my cunt. Off the back of a week when I’ve been showered with kind words and birthday wishes from friends and family, I can’t remember the last time I felt this lucky and calm. Happy, sated and loved. And there are 36 minutes of my birthday still to go, so I ask him: “will you do exactly as I ask until it ends?” Yes, he will. Of course he will. Even though he quite rudely specifies ‘within reason’. As if I’d be anything other than reasonable in my requests…

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Today’s guest blog speaks to me deeply. As a filthy, experienced sex blogger I have dated quite a few people who have worried they’re too ‘vanilla‘ for my tastes. As if once you start trying kink, there’s no going back, and no sex will be good enough unless at least one of you ends up suspended from the ceiling covered in Nuttella. This week’s anonymous contributor gives a funny, sweet account of how she took the news that her boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend had more sexual experience than she did. Is ‘vanilla’ an acceptable flavour? I’ll let her give you the answer…

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For as long as I can remember, I have yearned for a partner. Even when I was too young to understand sex or romance, I pursued boys. With a relentless, aching need. I’m sure some of them could sense it radiating out of me. As a child, when a brand new boy would turn up in whatever context – playing with my siblings and I on holiday, or transferring into my class from another school – my whole being would suddenly snap into focus, laser-targeted on whether or not this one might be a possibility. As a teenager, I was obsessed with the idea of having a boyfriend, and although there was one boy I was wildly in love with, I knew deep in my heart that any boy would do. I just wanted to be loved. When I finally did secure a boyfriend – even though he was entirely unsuited to me – there was a powerful feeling of relief and accomplishment. I’ve done it! I’ve got one! I am wanted! Go me! I yearn for a partner, I always have done. I just really really want to be loved.

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