Tag Archives: ejaculating
Say goodnight: fuck me in my sleep
Despite giving the impression that I go through life humping men on an almost hourly basis, the time when I’m most likely to have sex is just before bed. Not particularly surprising when you consider that I, like most people, have to work during the day, somewhere far enough from the nearest willing boy that I can’t nip out at lunchtime for a post-sandwich quickie.
Sex before bedtime feels like the natural thing to do – you’ve just taken your clothes off, you’re lying next to each other enjoying the skin-on-skin contact and the post-workday sweat as you bury your face in his armpit: of course a lot of sex happens at bedtime.
But do you want to know what’s even better? Sex after bedtime.
Wake me up
I have a rock-solid and trembling desire for guys who wake me up for a fuck. I love the feeling of being stroked and dragged awake at two, three, four o’clock in the morning by a guy with a raging erection and a desperate need to be inside me.
In fact, so acute is my desire for a guy with a hard-on in the middle of the night that I often don’t even need him to fuck me. Just knowing that he’s almost whimperingly desperate has me flooded with lust, and struggling to pretend to keep my eyes closed.
The other night I woke up lying on my stomach. I could feel him running his hand tightly over my arse, smoothing the silk of my knickers into the crack, and sliding his fingers down my crotch through the fabric. The bed was shaking slightly as he rubbed his cock with his other hand.
After a couple of minutes, he pulled my knickers to one side, dipping his fingers into my cunt. When he felt how wet I was, he moaned, and started rubbing himself harder. I lay as still as I could, breath catching occasionally despite my attempts to maintain the illusion of sleep. I wanted him to fuck me.
Sleep sex
He’s done it before – fucked me in my sleep, I mean. Despite my having issued an open challenge (£50 if you can finish without waking me up) he’s never quite got to the end without me moaning and giving away that I’ve been wide awake for a while. But still. The fact that one day he might makes me quiver with desire, and when I twitch into consciousness to find him touching me I can’t help but tense up, and start throbbing, and hope that he’ll roll on top of me and slide his cock inside.
This isn’t one of those creepy ‘I’ll fuck her while she’s asleep just because I fancy it’ things. He doesn’t fuck me in my sleep because he thinks he can get away with it – he does it because I have emphatically and enthusiastically begged him to.
Because the feeling of waking up, woozy and confused and wet and aching at just the moment he slides his dick inside me is so hot it makes me crosseyed.
Tonight I’ll dream of him fucking me in my sleep
But sometimes there’s no release for me at all – and this was one of those times. There was no need for me to battle a sigh of relief as he pulled my knickers to one side and slipped into me, no feeling of satisfaction as he grunted and thrust.
As his hand reached my knickers he just sped up, rubbing his dick harder and faster – holding his breath to avoid making tell-tale noises in the back of his throat as he got closer to coming.
When he was near, he gripped me harder – fingers digging my knickers into the slit of my cunt, feeling the flooding wetness soak through the silk. And then, just as he was about to come, he pulled at the waistband so that they were bunched at the bottom of my buttocks, exposing me just enough as he rolled over, pushed the tip of his cock up against me, and squirted sticky rounds of jizz directly against my skin.
Having finished, with a gentle grunt and a sigh of satisfaction, he absently rubbed it in – covering me in stickiness with quick, solid movements. He pulled up my knickers and gently patted my arse.
“I’ve been awake for a while, you know.”
“I know. You were pretending to be asleep, weren’t you?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Good girl.”
I got almost no sleep of my own that night.
Update 2018: this post is now available as audio porn (click ‘listen now’ above and see more audio porn here). I wanted to add, as I was revisiting it to turn it into audio porn, that this should never ever be taken to mean that any individual might enjoy this like I do. I can only do it, as explained above, because my partner and I have discussed this in a lot of detail and carefully negotiated how we want to do this consensually.
On what is about to happen
I’m sitting on the sofa next to a boy who is playing Halo 4 on the Xbox. This is almost the best way to spend a Sunday. I write, he stares in deep concentration at the TV, running his fingers quickly over the controls, occasionally murmuring ‘shit’ or ‘motherfucker.’ It’s fantastic -relaxing and horny at the same time. But it’s not quite as good as what’s about to happen.
On spunk
I neither know nor give a shit if it tastes different when you’ve eaten pineapple.
Spunk is good because it’s spunk. It’s raw and hot and yours. It’s something that you squirt from the end of your dick when you’re so fucking satisfied with me, with what I’ve done, with what I look like when you have me bent over and tied to a chair, that you can no longer keep it inside you. Spunk is, more than anything else, the measure of whether I’ve made you happy.
It’s not good because of the taste, it’s good because you cover me with it. It’s good because you pump it deep and hot inside me. It’s good because you make me eat it.
Can you improve the taste of your jizz?
A brief and depressing google around this area tells me that almost anything natural and fruity could change the taste of your spunk (WARNING: research based on Google does not constitute actual science) so if you’re happy to chow down on a pound of melon or a shitload of grapes each day, alongside the almost inevitable diarrhoea you suffer, you’ll probably also be able to provide a liquid that your ladyfriend would be happy to dribble on her ice cream.
But why? What’s the point? I’m a grown-up earning a wage – I can buy sugary syrups and whipped cream and fruity treats to my heart’s delight – the only way I’ll get a taste of your spunk is to suck on your cock nice and hard, in exactly the way that you like it.
Tasting nice is not what your jism is for. Your spunk doesn’t need to taste like strawberries, or pineapple, or sugar, spice and puppy dog tails – your spunk needs to taste like what comes out of the end of your dick when you come.
Spunk makes sex better
Sex is fun whether you come or not – the feeling of you nice and full and tight and hard inside me will give me the shivers and make me wet and give me something to clamp down on – to tense my cunt around and twitch over and feel happy about. But sex in and of itself isn’t half as good as sex that ends with spunk.
Dribbles of it, spurts of it, nice thick white ropes of it covering my tits or filling my cunt or (my personal favourite) spurting hot and hard into the crack of my arse.
Don’t worry about how you taste – everyone tastes different – pineapple or not – all guys tast different. Some are bitter, some are salty, some shoot sourness down to the back of my throat that makes me gag and worry I might puke. You all taste different – it’s part of your charm.
Have a little taste now – go on. If you’ve never tried it before you’re probably quite an incurious person, but indulge me. Have a taste. You might not like it – many people don’t – but at the very least you now know. You see yourself in the mirror every day, you’re your own constant companion – the person who knows you best. You know what you look like, sound like and smell like, so why not also see what you taste like?
Go on, try it. Salty, sweet, bitter, whatever. That’s the taste of you. And that’s what makes it so special.
Whether the rumours are true or not, I don’t want your spunk to taste like pineapple. If I wanted a pineapple I’d eat one, but I don’t, so if your spunk tastes like pineapple I’ll feel disappointed. Cheated. Because I wanted that special flavour of you – of your approval, your happiness, your sexual gratification. I wanted hot, grunting, squirting thrusts of proper, salty spunk. And you’ve given me a fucking sorbet.
On boywanking: masturbation tips courtesy of men I’ve fucked
It breaks my heart to think that, at this very minute, thousands of men are beating one out yet only a very small percentage of them will be videoing the event to share with the internet or a loved one. Boywanking is hot. And not just hot like ‘ooh, that’s nice’ but hot like ‘I think I might have to sit down for a minute because my legs have just stopped working.’ So I thought I’d share some of the sexy masturbation tips men I’ve known (in the Biblical sense) have shared with me…
On boys who keep going even after they’ve come
ARGH WHY. Of all the bullshit that men are taught about sex that I have to then un-teach them, this is one of the ones that most frustrates me:
“You should still try and pleasure a woman even after you’ve come.”
Why? What’s in it for you? Oh, sorry – you’re selfless. You’re a selfless, giving, good-Samaritan of a man who’ll be kind enough to fumble with my cunt even at the point after orgasm when, for you, it holds less interest than a bacon sandwich.
Why thanks – you’re too kind. I don’t know about you but what I dream about in my wildest fantasies is a man who is spent, exhausted and completely sexually disinterested rummaging around like he’s trying to re-light the gas hob.
“I want to make sure you’re getting something out of it.”
Trust me: I am. And you’ll know about it with loud and vigorous enthusiasm right up until the climax – the most IMPORTANT BLOODY PART – whether you jizz in me, on me, or somewhere over the frigging rainbow. I can come any time I like, but it’s not every day I get to taste your spunk in my mouth.
That’s why I bought my ticket. That’s what I’m here for.
If I don’t come, and you do, that is fine by me. I can lie there in the afterglow feeling your come slowly drying on my stomach, listening to your post-shag panting and feeling satisfied that we both had a great time. What I can’t do is enjoy the afterglow if you’re still half-heartedly prodding at my clit.
So please, gentlemen, PLEASE, for the love of all that’s good and beautiful and drenched in sweat after an excellent ride: when you’re done, stop. You were wonderful.