Tag Archives: lesbian
Someone else’s story: Antici… pation
As I might have already explained, I’m deeply impatient. So impatient, in fact, that if foreplay lasts longer than ten minutes I am liable to cry. I was once mocked by a guy, who was far keener on build-up than I was, because apparently the only thing I ever said in bed was “pleasepleasepleaseplease.” I don’t know what he was upset about – it’s certainly better than “mehmehmehmeh.”
Anyway, because I love guest blogs, and particularly guest blogs from people who have a different perspective to me, the following excellent post by Helz captures perfectly her delight in making someone wait. And wait. And then…
Antici….pation
Okay, yes, I did steal this title from a Rocky Horror lyric. Shoot me. It’s very apt though.
What is almost better than a conquest is the magnetism, the frission, leading up to it. It’s something organic between two people that can’t be forced, you both have to want to rip the clothes off and melt into each other so badly and you both know it. No one has made the first move yet and all you have is heavily layered conversation where you can barely focus on the words because even talking to each other makes you wet, and you’re zoned in on her mouth, her lips…her skin and her eyes, boring into yours and you both know that you’re going to see a lot more than each other’s eyes later on… but not yet. That anticipation, that mutual magnetism, is pretty rare yet so delicious. The excitement, and the wonder that you might be mistaken, that she might not want you and it’s all in your head and the electricity that zaps right down through you at the thought of her is what makes the whole exchange magical.
I like to, whilst making out with someone, draw back. Make them wait for our lips to meet and shrink away from their touch. Soften my gaze and my body, make it look completely touchable, mutely draw them in with my eyes, then refuse them. When your lips are centimeters away from mine and you can actually feel my warmth, but you’re unable to touch me because I keep drawing away… I know that you really want me. I like making you want me. The frantic, hot, hard kisses and touches you give me after that after being denied for so long show how much you crave this, crave me…
Before I eat out a girl I like to make her anticipate it for a very long time. I love the downy inner thigh which leads up to your cunt, and I love to linger on it for as long as I possibly can, giving your butterfly butterfly kisses and softly kissing, licking and stroking your thighs, occasionally giving your lower lips some very, very light touches or kisses, and I do this until I know that you are biting your lip to mask your croaks and moans, so hard that it could draw blood, until you’re dripping with ladyjuice and until you’re rolling your eyes upwards, as if you’re praying to some Sapphic goddess. I know you’re tingling with desire all over and I kiss your lower self harder and harder and slloooowwwly work my way to your cunt and start very gently, just when you think you’ll get some form of release I stop and kiss your pelvis and your stomach, then work my way down again until you quiver and your knees buck…
You like the anticipation, sometimes, more than you like the actual sex act, and the fact that you want it, me, so much makes me horny as hell and gives me almost as much satisfaction as if you were giving it to me.
Then it’s my turn.
On sexual bucket lists
I wrote an entry a very long time ago about sexual bucket lists, and compiled a list of things I have always wanted to do. So nervous was I about one particular item on the list that I never published it. Revisiting that post now, I realise two things:
1. I have actually ticked one of these things off the list. Reach for the stars, people.
2. There is clearly one sexual fantasy that I don’t want to tell any of you about.
3. I’ll tell you the third thing at the end.
Anyway, with all this in mind, here is a list of things that I have always desperately wanted to do.
Wank a guy off with a sheath
My hand jobs will never be as good as your hand jobs – you know your cock much better than I do. But what you don’t necessarily know is the feeling of a well-engineered, lubed-up sheath that is tight, tight, tighter than the grip of my own hand. I want to wank you off to completion in a way you haven’t done yourself.
[Achievement unlocked! Collect fifty sex points, do not pass Go]
Gang bang
Obviously. Having thought about this a lot, I think the ideal number of guys is four, but if anyone has experience of this and would like to give me explicit and detailed advice in the comments, I would love to hear/rub one out over it.
Fuck a girl with a strap on while a guy fucks me in the ass
I want to know how it feels to fuck a girl – to be the powerful, penetrating one. However I recognise my nature well enough to know that I wouldn’t particularly enjoy it unless there was a guy there as well, and we all fancied each other.
I want to feel her squirm under me as every time he pounds my ass he forces my fake cock deeper inside her. I want to feel our tits squashing against each other as he leans his full weight on both of us. I want for her, and I, to come before him, so we’re ready to stop and ready to finish, but remain panting and twitching with post-orgasmic happiness as he speeds up and rams his cock further into my ass until, finally, he blows his load and says ‘good girls’ before heading off.
[Redacted]
No, really, I’m just not going to tell you this one.
Double penetration
This pretty much does what it says on the tin. I want to feel two guys almost touching each others’ cocks as they fuck me. Specifically, I want to sit down on a guy, ass-first, then wriggle in surprise as he grabs me and tips me back, lifting my thighs and grabbing at my legs to hold them apart.
Another guy moves forward, stroking his dick – spitting on the end to make it nice and wet. As I’m squirming on top of the other, he leans forward and pins me by my neck, pushing me back down onto the other guy, who forces his dick up harder and deeper into me. Then the second shifts forward, pushing himself deep into my cunt, grunting at the tightness as he fills the little remaining space.
As with most threesomes, I’ve found it’s not hard to find people willing to do it, it’s just hard finding people willing to do it who all fancy each other.
Be used as a group fucktoy
This is explicitly not the same thing as a gang bang, and anyone who insists it is will be required to take a long and arduous tour of the section of my head entitled ‘fantasy pedantry’. A gang bang requires the immediate and sustained presence of at least four dudes, all having sex with me at once. Being a fucktoy, on the other hand, simply means being used as a tame and compliant receptacle for the jizz of a number of different guys.
The difference in the scenarios can be illustrated thus: a dinner party with four guys and a girl, in which the end of dinner is celebrated by tearing the girl’s clothes off and all fucking her at once. That’s a gang bang. A fucktoy, on the other hand, might be employed giving blow jobs individually to one guy during the starter, being bent over the table by another guy just before mains, while the other men look on and chat casually. As dessert is served, one of them gets a bit horny and invites her to come and sit beside him on her knees, so he can pull out his cock and masturbate with swift and efficient purpose, emptying himself with hot squirts into her mouth. Our final gentleman doesn’t necessarily have to do anything. He can sit back, with a full belly and a rock-hard cock, while the others eat their Eton Mess (simple recipe, can be prepared in advance so as not to take up valuable sex time), casually fondling the fucktoy’s tits as a brief postprandial treat.
Later in the evening, as everyone gets more relaxed, they strap her over one of the arms of the sofa so that each of them, when the need takes them, can fuck her in either her ass or her cunt, alternating between filling her with hot spunk, and simply putting their dick somewhere warm for a while. Grunting, slapping, and casual usage of a horny girl who’ll eventually be sent home alone.
Have someone jizz on my feet
I have no idea why I actually want to do this. I don’t have a particular thing for feet, and I have never met a guy who has. I just like the uniqueness of it – the idea that someone might like feet so much that he wants to come all over mine. There’s also the combined joy of being able to watch a guy wank himself to completion, in a desperate, frothing way until he gets to jizz on something unusual. Finally, once he’s spent and dry I can rub my feet together and feel the viscous stickiness drying between my toes.
Why bother with a bucket list?
The final thing I realised, having revisited this List of Dreams about a year after I actually wrote it, is that the idea of having a Sexual List of Dreams is a little bit odd. Sure, we all have one or two things that we’d quite like to try out, but writing them down in list form seems to give them a different, more significant status. Despite potentially being relatively easy to carry out, being On The List affords them mythical status – the ‘things I have always wanted to do’ as opposed to simply the ‘thing I quite fancy trying tonight.’ I mean, look at the final entry on my list – foot-jizzing, for crying out loud! I could tick that one off this evening and never think of it again. So why haven’t I?
Probably because, although it’s hot, and would no doubt be hot if I were to do it, it’s mainly hot because of the ‘oh holy shit that’s unusual’ element rather than because it’s inherently desirable to me. Although these things are exciting, most evenings what I fancy most is a bog-standard, pull-your-knickers-down-and-we’ll-do-it-in-the-hallway shag. I suspect that if every evening I was interrupted by half a rugby team naked from the waist down and ready for a gangbang, the novelty would wear off in a couple of months and I’d be begging for a quiet one-on-one fuck on the sofa.
Sexual bucket lists are all very well, and I’ll no doubt be patting myself on the back when I tick the next thing off, but their value (on my list, in any case) lies in their uniqueness, their special qualities. Just as no one wants to swim with sodding dolphins every morning, most days I’m happy with a wank.
On kissing girls
I kissed a girl, and I liked it.
Or more truthfully: I kissed a girl and it was sort of OK but the main reason I kissed her is because there was a dude that we both fancied who we knew would be pretty aroused by the whole scenario.
It’s not quite as catchy, but it is something that happens a fair bit. Ever since I first saw girls kiss in nightclubs I’ve heard whispers about ‘lipstick lesbians’ – usually accompanied by judgmental frowning. I’ve heard people moan about it and damn these girls. They’re stupid, they’re pathetic, they’re attention-grabbing and – perhaps most damning of all – they’re not even really into it. How dare they?
I read an article today by Julie Birchill, in which she discusses these girl-on-girl kisses. Girls who like girls for boys, girls who like girls for attention, and – her example being the famous Madonna/Britney snog – girls who like girls for money.
Sometimes I kiss girls for boys
I’m going to go out on a limb and say that there’s nothing wrong in principle with people pulling others for the arousal of a third party. After all, many fantastic threesomes have begun that way. Some of my fantastic threesomes have begun that way. And I’d be a miserable hypocrite if I didn’t admit that two boys kissing to try and turn me on would… well… turn me on. Finally I suppose I should also admit that kissing girls to give boys erections is something that I do quite frequently – it is, perhaps, one of the tamest things I have done in my unending quest to give guys erections.
Likewise, people do shit for money all the time. Money is not an illegitimate reason to do something – it’s the reason most of us haul ourselves out of bed at godforsaken hours of the morning five days a week to go and do boring things when, given the choice, we’d rather be at home eating crisps and wanking. If you’re a pop starlet who thinks she’ll make more money by kissing a girl, I can see you making a legitimate choice to kiss a girl rather than – say – do something headline-grabbing for charity or get strategically semi-naked in your next music video.
Finally – attention. We all want attention, don’t we? Short of hermits, nuns and wanted criminals, everyone likes having a few pairs of eyes on them. If we burned people at the stake for attention-grabbing, they’d come for the bloggers first but the rest of humanity wouldn’t be far behind.
We’re all just people, making decisions. And the decision to place your tongue inside someone’s mouth and move it around a bit can, like any other decision in our lives, be made because we want money, attention or sex. There’s nothing obviously crass about doing something for these reasons, and yet girls who kiss girls are often met with contempt because they dared to do something that wasn’t purely motivated by a desire for the kiss itself.
The ethics of snogging someone you don’t really fancy
I suspect what people hate most about girls pulling other girls in clubs – and why ‘lipstick lesbian’ is (in my albeit limited experience) a phrase frequently spat with disgust and horror – is the lies. No reasonable person could have a problem with two women who fancy each other pulling in a nightclub – the problem people seem to have with this scenario is that there isn’t always desire. We’re used to kissed being motivated by this, so any other motivation both looks and feels like a lie.
People aren’t angry about what your motivations are (money, attention, or arousing other people), they’re angry because of what they’re not. You’re not motivated by lust, therefore you’re lying.
But my issue with this is that although I hate lies as much as the next person, I don’t feel like this really is a lie – it’s a game. You’re play-acting like you fancy someone in the same way as you might play-act a naughty schoolgirl, or an angry sargeant major, or a runaway My Little Pony. There’s nothing wrong with games as long as all participants know the rules.
The only time this falls down is if one of the participants doesn’t know the rules. If I pull you because we both fancy a guy and want to watch him get an erection in the pub, and if that guy knows that we’re doing that for him, then a good time will be had by all. But if one person doesn’t have that knowledge, and thinks the kiss is the start of something beautiful, then their legitimate and honest desire has been turned into something tawdry and crass.
Imagine someone you’d fancied for years finally getting up the courage to ask you for a snog, which you gleefully do, only to find out straight afterwards that they were doing it on a nudge and a wink from their partner. Horrible, heartbreaking, cruel, and immoral.
That’s what we should be disgusted by. Not the kiss itself, but the way it’s done. Kissing is, like all sex acts, intrinsically dependent on the enthusiasm of the other parties involved.
The person who is kissing you out of genuine love or lust has the right to be offended and upset if you’re being dishonest, and knowingly misleading them, but the people who scowl and whisper ‘lipstick lesbian’ have no such rights. They can guess at your motivations, but they can’t know what rules you’ve established with the other people involved. All they will ever see is two girls kissing – it’s up to those girls to decide whether they’re happy with that.
On nice surprises
Role play, like having a threesome, is incredibly tricky to do in a way that keeps everyone happy. Whether you’re a fireman, sex slave or naughty schoolgirl you’ll always have a certain idea in your head of how the scene will play out, and your partner(s) will have their own ideas. Very rarely does everything combine perfectly, meaning that there are often surprises.
Usually I rage against surprises – I have very specific fantasies, and the best sex is usually that which comes closest to the things I imagine when I’m alone at home with my knickers halfway down my thighs, scratching an itch I’ve been thinking about since a very specific scene popped into my head. But sometimes surprises can be good – things I’d never have considered doing or imagined could be hot. The right kind of person can show me things I’d never have wanted to do in a way that makes me achingly desperate to do them.
Surprises
It started exactly as I’d imagined it would. They came to the bedroom – a boy and a girl – and accosted me, berated me, called me a bad girl. They bent me over the side of the bed – she beat me with a leather strap, while he held me down, pushing my face into the bedclothes so I wouldn’t scream too loudly.
They took me downstairs into the lounge, where they had an array of equipment laid out – straps, whips, floggers, and (shudder) canes. They took it in turns to punish me – one lifting my skirt and pulling my knickers down while the other held my head in their arms and crooned words of comfort.
Slap
You’re a good girl. You like this, don’t you?
Slap
Don’t you?
Yes.
Slap
They stripped me and examined me, touching me all over, and hitting the parts that were softest.
Slap
And I loved it. I felt her hands all over me, and I saw his cock throbbing and pushing against the tightness of his trousers. I was wet and burning with pain, and desperate for him to fuck me. For her to fuck me – for someone, anyone, to push something solid into me and let me clench my cunt around it as I came.
They dragged me back upstairs to the bedroom, and I thought I’d get what I wanted.
‘Please. Please fuck me.’
He slapped me in the face and told me no. And she giggled with laughter that genuinely scared me. She was dominant and cruel, but did everything with a twinkle in her eye. She did things not because she was playing a game, but because she liked doing them. She liked scaring me with stinging cane-strokes that were just a bit too hard. She liked to show me that being submissive wasn’t just about taking pain that felt good. She’d beat me into a trembling pile of arousal and fear. She was, in short, spectacular.
‘Please fuck me?’
‘No.’ Said with conviction and more than a hint of cruel delight.
‘We’re not going to fuck you. Lie face down on the bed and pull your knickers down.
‘I’m going to give you an enema.’
I didn’t believe her. I didn’t really even know why an enema was supposed to be hot. I was horrified and humiliated and horny and confused, but that didn’t prevent me from being desperately curious. So I did as I was told. I lay face down on the bed, pulled down my knickers, and she gave me an enema.
I’ve never been so disgusted with myself and so aroused at the same time. When she’d filled my ass with water, she told me to stand in the corner of the room with my hands on my head. My legs shook and my stomach turned over and I counted down the agonising minutes while the two of them chatted. They discussed me, they dissected me, they contemplated beating me again. They appraised my tits, my arse, my thighs, the fresh, stinging whip marks across my buttocks and my back.
And I waited, and waited, and waited until I thought I was going to faint.
When they finally gave me permission to go I could barely walk. The stress of keeping everything in, holding myself straight and tight and still for what can’t have been more than five minutes, made it hard for me to move and gave me an agonising throb deep in my stomach that told me I needed to come.
When I finally made it to the bathroom, I sat in shame and miserable unsated lust, listening to her giggling outside the door.
