One of the things I like to do of an evening is stick on a horny album and daydream for a while about my next set-piece fuck. By ‘set-piece’ fuck I mean something a little bit extra, not the standard ‘make out and bang’ that I’ll leap into on impulse. These might feature a new act I’ve not yet tried with this person (or at all), or something like special equipment, clothes or preparation. Sometimes it’s just a specific tone I want to play with: brattiness; begging; anticipation… you get the idea. I sit on the sofa getting high and listening to sexy music, daydreaming about a few recent hits from the bedroom, or mull over breadcrumbs that my partner might have casually dropped into conversation when hinting at what they might like, then see if I can come up with something that presses buttons for both of us. Now feels as good a time as any to talk about set-piece fucks, because I recently became single so I won’t be able to do them again for a really long time. Talking about the pleasure I get from doing this sort of thing gives me the chance to shoehorn in a topic I’ve wanted to discuss for a while: what monogamy means to me.

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You can feel your lover’s pulse with one finger. You know this, of course, but I bet you don’t think about it often. I thought about it the other day and the force of it hit me like a punch in the chest. You can feel the thud of their blood running through their body, keeping them alive. The heartbeat that powers the person who makes you quiver with need. The one you want to bury your nose, your face, your fucking life in… you can feel your lover’s pulse with a single finger. Isn’t that awesome?

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Regular readers will know that I’m a big fan of cuckolding as a kink. Something about the combination of tortured emotions and intense fucks, the fact that emotional connection can be twisted into something much darker and more taboo… unngh, yeah. So inevitably I was delighted to find a cuck who was not only willing to chat about his kink, but explain in delicious and excruciating detail exactly what’s so hot about getting cucked. Take it away…

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I remember very vividly the first sexy daydream I had about a boy. I felt myself growing hot and tense inside before experiencing a release of arousal as the daydream came to climax. Not a real climax, sadly I’ve never had the ability to make myself come just by thinking about the right thing. But the right thoughts can trigger something intense, and this was the first time I’d experienced that intensity: the instant, shocking realisation that my mind could make my body do this thing, purely through the power of imagination. It was way more graphic than the purely cerebral lust I’d felt for guys in the past. When I talk about this feeling on the blog, I often refer to it as that ‘kick in the gut’ of lust. Or the unngh moment. Some fantasies might press a few buttons in your mind, sparking ideas and feelings that you want to follow up later, but these particular sexy dreams and daydreams are on another level: they kick me in the gut. Give me that unngh.

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He’s pretty quiet in bed, so I’ve become used to turning up the perception dial on all the senses I use to tell whether someone’s enjoying themselves. Most notably when I’m sucking his dick or giving him a gentle hand job. I listen more intensely for the softer sounds he makes, and have trained myself to hone in on those little moments when his breath catches: if I tease the head of his cock with lubed-up fingers, for instance, or get the pressure and speed of a particular stroke just right. I place my hands on his thighs or hips, where the muscles sometimes tense as things start to build, or I press my whole body against his, to get an even better idea of how my moves are being received. I check in with plenty of ‘is this good?’s and the occasional specific question like ‘tell me which is better… gentle or firm?’. It’s a far cry from someone’s hands gripping my hair and shoving my throat onto their cock or loud moans telling me what a filthy slut I am, but I’m getting used to these quieter, softer responses. I’ve started to tune in to the subtle shifts in how he tells me he’s having a good time. So when I introduced this subtle guy to a sexual feedback technique for shy people, the fact that he used it – and the way that he used it – made me drench my knickers in an instant.

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