When this week’s guest blogger got in touch with his story, he initially mused that perhaps the reason he was telling it was that he just wanted to brag. To which my response was – and will always be – BRAG AWAY, MY FRIEND! One of the things that keeps me coming back to blogging, and keeps me greedily hoovering up the stories you pitch for the guest blog slot, is the extra gratification that a particular sex story, kink or fantasy has when you share it with other people. I live for bragging: whether it’s telling my friends I got laid or hearing them get laid in turn. Telling you about my wanks, or – in the case of this week’s guest blogger – hearing a fabulous tale of how he became a multi-orgasmic man (a very rare thing for a cis dude!) and started having the best sex of his life.

CN: brief references to abuse. 

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Let’s get one thing straight: sometimes your cum is a gift. A precious, delightful treasure that you bestow upon me for being a very good girl. And sometimes your cum is something you dispose of: splattering it onto me or dumping it into me like it is nothing more than trash. And by extension, so am I. The main thing that makes the difference here is tone – the way we’re fucking and what we’re saying to each other while we do it. But the best way to strike that tone can be achieved by putting your cum in my cunt versus cum in my ass.

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As a connoisseur of jizz, I am always intrigued by what jizzers think of their own ejaculate. Some of the guys I’ve been with have been very happy indeed to taste their own spunk during a post-blowjob kiss, while others seem a bit unsure of it. So when today’s guest blogger got in touch to offer a post about the first time he tasted his own spunk, naturally I was very excited to hear from someone who could give a personal opinion on their own unique emissions. Also, you know, it’s really really hot to read about people tasting their own jizz. I assume you agree, or you probably wouldn’t be here. Take it away, Mr Big…

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I’m not a fan of No Nut November (the month-long challenge where people try not to wank for reasons that vary from ‘fine’ to ‘oh God please stop spewing falsehoods about wanking harming your brain’). I like wanking and I dislike people who try to make others feel ashamed or broken because they enjoy a hand shandy. However, there is one huge benefit to the end of No Nut November that I haven’t yet dwelled upon for fear I’ll end up trapped in a horn spiral for the whole of lockdown. Namely: how much fucking jizz there’ll be when everyone who is partaking in it joins a massive beat-one-out party at 12:01 on December 1st.

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When we’re fucking, and he’s just about to come, there’s always a split-second moment when he has to decide: hold back or let go? If he pulls out quickly and closes his eyes so he can’t see the wet hole of my twitching cunt desperate for him to shove it back in, he can deny himself an orgasm now, but keep it in the bank for another fuck half an hour later. If he lets go, he gets that delightful thudding pulse running through his cock, and the wave of satisfied release as he dumps spunk inside me, but the chances of us fucking again shortly afterwards reduce dramatically. It’s a tricky decision. And sometimes it’s one that he doesn’t get to make.

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