Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Posing Nude – and Dripping Wet – for a Drawing Class

This is not one of my old posts, but one by Pervertically Virtuous
In the process of recovering my own old posts via email I discovered some of hers. Like me, her old accounts have been terminated, and she seems to have disappeared from the internet. This is a damn shame since I consider her one of the best sex bloggers I've ever had the chance to read and follow. I'm reposting her old posts as a historical archive, and if she ever returns to blogging I'm happy to hand them back to her.
To be clear: the copyright on this work is hers, and remains with her - I didn't write it and I make no claim to it. 

(FYI: all links in this post are working)

Pervertically Virtuous posted: "A couple of weeks ago, my roommate, the Cynic, told me that a guy who works in his office also runs a nude drawing class and is looking for models. They pay $50 for two and a half hours, he said. Would I be interested? My first thought was 'nah, not wo"

recovered post by Pervertically Virtuous

Posing Nude – and Dripping Wet – for a Drawing Class

by Pervertically Virtuous
A couple of weeks ago, my roommate, the Cynic, told me that a guy who works in his office also runs a nude drawing class and is looking for models. They pay $50 for two and a half hours, he said. Would I be interested?
[image added 2016 - original did not survive recovery]
My first thought was 'nah, not worth it'. If I wanted some extra cash, I could just do a pro-domme session for $200/hr, not $20/hr. But then I realized it might be an exciting experience. Exposing myself naked in front of people who would be staring at my body for a few hours trying to draw it, that sounded arousing. Were there any hot men in the class? Also, could I maybe get some of the drawings at the end? That alone would make it worth it. The Cynic didn't have an answer regarding the hot men, but said I would definitely get some drawings. OK, that sealed it.

I emailed the guy and made arrangements to show up in front of his studio the following week. I learned that you don't have to keep the same position for the whole 150 minutes as I had initially thought, but that instead there were going to be a bunch of 1, 2, 5, and 10 minute poses, followed by a couple of 15 and 20 minute ones. That sounded like even more fun.

The only challenge with that was that I'd have to come up with the poses. That was, I admit, a bit nerve-wrecking. How am I gonna come up with like 50 different poses?! What if I get all flustered and can't come up with one? Will I choose good ones? What are good ones?! I practiced a couple of poses to calm myself. Come on Z, how hard could it be?

That afternoon I showered, put on very light make-up, and walked over. Outside the studio I was greeted by two men: the guy I was expecting – the apparent owner of the art studio, and a guy I wasn't expecting - the guy who was actually running the class, who I happened to know because he had given me a ride to NYC several months earlier (courtesy of Craigslist Rideshare). Rideshare was very cute and I remember flirting heavily during that trip to NYC; unfortunately, there had been someone else in the car and we never took it beyond seducing glances, mildly suggestive hints, and a vague agreement to hang out sometime when back in Unitown. I hadn't seen him since, and was pleasantly surprised to see him then: There would be at least one hot man staring at my naked body. Off to a good start.

We walked up to the studio and in the few spare minutes before the rest of the class arrived, the two of them showed me some previous drawings to get a sense of the different pose possibilities. The shorter poses should be dynamic, the longer ones more relaxed. Straight lines (of shoulders, hips, etc) were bad, twisting was good. Sounded reasonable. Did I want some water? Yes. Did I want a robe? No. (What would I do with a robe while posing nude?!)

Two women and three more men showed up for the class. None of them attractive; one of them, a married father of two, turned out to be my old boss for a volunteering job I'd done a few years back. I had no idea he drew; he had no idea I modeled nude (well, I don't). A bit awkward, but not too bad.

It was time to start. I took off all my clothes and twisted my body in the first dynamic 1-min position that came to mind. The positions somehow came to me without too much sweating. It felt natural to just move my body through space. Sometimes I had to do a little bit of thinking, especially when deciding to switch from standing, to sitting, to laying down and back. Once or twice, I even felt the initial symptoms of panic at not knowing what to do next building up. But most of the time, it was easy, seamless, relaxed.

As I'd suspected, it was quite enjoyable. I like being naked and feel very comfortable in my body. I like being watched. I like pushing my body in new and challenging positions – rock climbing, surfing, snowboarding are all about that. I enjoyed the challenge of maintaining the succession of dynamic poses over 1, 2, and 5 minutes. I enjoyed being naked. I enjoyed having all these eyes staring at me intently, carefully dissecting every inch of my body.

I started to get aroused. I started placing myself into more and more sexual, open, revealing positions. Images of really raunchy, porn-like poses started running through my mind: bent over with my ass up in the air and my hands holding my ass cheeks spread wide; kneeling down with three fingers in my pussy and grabbing my tits with the other hand.

When it was time for the longer poses, I got into the most sexual position I thought I could get away with: I sat down leaning against the wall with my legs slightly open and my hands on my thighs, dangerously close to my crotch. It was totally a fuck-me pose. It brought my arousal to a whole new level.

With my pussy on display so openly, I got really wet. I wanted to open my legs farther and wider. I wanted to move my hands closer and start touching myself. I closed my eyes and pretended I was dozing off so that my legs would just naturally fall farther apart. I lifted one of my hands to scratch my nose for a second, and when I put it back down on my thigh I placed it even closer to my pussy. Close enough that my thumb touched my labia, and I would occasionally gently caress my clit with it. I knew my pussy was sopping wet, and I was wondering if some of it would drip on the floor. When the 15 minutes were over and I stood up, I noticed a little puddle of vaginal juices on the carpet. I smiled to myself and hoped nobody noticed. Not that I would've minded if they did.

The next pose had me sitting on a chair facing away from the group. The dirty image compilation continued to run through my head: sitting on the chair with my legs spread wide; bending over leaned against the wall with my hand forcefully clutching my labia... 15 minutes later there was another puddle of my pussy fluids on the chair. I wiped it off as I got up. I wondered if this happened to other female nude models. I had heard of male nude models getting erections, but not of female models leaving pools of their love-liquor on the floor. They probably do, they just don't talk about it. Right? Right?

After we were done and I'd gotten some drawings, Rideshare and a few others went to the local bar for a drink. I decided to join, mostly because I was horny and intent on fucking the Painter. I had a feeling he was hoping for the same, and if he wasn't, I was sure he could be persuaded. On the ride there I told him how aroused I had been. He told me I was much more outward-oriented than other models he'd worked with, as if reaching out to the viewers, interacting with them. Other models apparently tended to be more reserved, more inside their bodies. One of the other artists summed it well when we got to the bar: "Some models just do the classic positions [whatever that meant], others do yoga poses, but you were more sexual, you added a sexual twist to the positions."

They called the pose with the spread legs 'brave'. I didn't think it was brave; it was inescapable. My body didn't really have a choice but portray who I am – an easily aroused, highly sexual being; a horny slut, if you so prefer.

We chatted for a while. I asked if they ever drew men, and was very unpleasantly surprised to hear that they didn't. Rideshare said he didn't really like drawing men; the owner of the studio went further - he didn't want any naked men in his studio. He said he wouldn't sit on chair where a naked man sat, that after 2 ½ hours of posing the whole studio would start smelling of balls. I couldn't believe my ears. Such brazen homophobia, or androphobia, discrimination. He called it 'territorial'. Call it what you want, it's still intolerant and sexist. I was considering posing nude for them again, but hearing that changed my mind. They won't be seeing my naked ass around there again.

That put a bit of a damper on my excitement, but I was determined not to let it ruin my night altogether. I had to get fucked. I got up and sat next to the Painter. I put my hand on his thigh and whispered in his ear that it was time to split. He got the message.

We walked back to my house and got down to business right away. I was so horny – I had been so horny for hours – that I couldn't wait. I couldn't kiss him because he had a cold, but he made up for it by enjoying my body immensely. He just kept marveling at me, saying how sexy I was, how he couldn't stop looking at me and my pussy during the drawing session, how he had wanted to fuck me right there in front of everyone, how he had wanted to do this since he gave me that ride a few months back... He had a very dreamy aura about himself, like he was high on pot at all times, although he wasn't... It was endearing. Cute.

He was cute in general. Not too tall, with an adorable boyish face. Only the occasional grey hair in his otherwise charcoal black curly hair revealed his age was closer to 40. His body was in acceptable shape: There was no 6-pack, but the outlines of a 4-pack were still discernible. His cock was not very long, maybe 5'', but with decent girth and oh so hard. It was definitely going to do.

I was still dripping wet and it took no time to bring me to several orgasms while he fucked me from behind. He liked to pull on my hair. It was interesting to see someone who looked so sweet trying to be dominant in bed. It was kinda hot and I went along with it. He came all over my back and left soon after. I had a feeling this was not the last time I'd see him...


Want to see the rest of the drawings I got? Check out and Like my Facebook page ;-)
Related posts:
Can I Get an Ass Fucking to Go with the Belt?
The Household
Pervertically Virtuous | May 24, 2013 at 10:56 am | Tags: art, courage, exhibitionism, horny, nudity, Rideshare, sex | Categories: Casual sex, Sex Stories 

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

TMI Tuesday: May 23, 2017 ~ Digging Deep


1. The last time you had sex, was it urgent or essential? Consider masturbation or sex with a partner.
~ We had sex on Sunday night, it was non-penetrative (which is now the norm). All very slow and romantic. It was 'scheduled sex' inasmuch my wife agreed to have sex with me every Saturday night last Wednesday when we had a discussion about our lack of sexual intimacy. I am not surprised that we still couldn't manage to make it happen on Saturday night, but we got there in the end. A very intense orgasm for me (unsurprising given it was overdue!) and she said the same. Given her response during my oral assault I believe her.

2. What should you stop doing? Why?
~ I should stop eating so much and/or exercise more. Because I am overweight.

3. What makes you feel strongest? Sexiest?
~ To be honest (#TBH) I'm not one of those people who feel #Strong #Sexy #Blessed! I'm physically strong and I'm emotional strong - despite the impression you might get from reading some of my more despairing blog posts! I suppose I feel sexy when I know I look good, and when other women respond to me. Yes, I'm not so far gone that I don't recognize a vibe.
Something I've been doing this year, which I agree is sad, is using negative mantras. While some people employ positive affirmations ("I am going to have a great day today" or "I can do this, nothing will stop me, etc) I go in the other direction. Whenever I think my wife is giving me the signal that she is receptive to sex I tell myself "she loves me but she doesn't want me sexually" or "you are not what she craves, do not try to fuck her" or "she does not want you, don't be fooled by what she is doing'.

4. When do you feel vulnerable?
~ Every time we get ourselves into a sexual situation I am vulnerable. My wife sends out mixed signals all the time - unless she is sending out no signal at all, which is the norm. If I make a sexual advance towards my wife I know there is a 95% chance I will be rebuffed. Hence the mantras I refer to in Q3 - so I can stop myself from making that advance.

5. What is missing from your sex life?
~ Confidence. Due to the lack of communication on my wife's part I have no idea what she wants, when she wants it, or if she really enjoys it. She seems like she is enjoying, but as I have said before if she was really enjoying it she'd be wanting it more - amiright?
~ Novelty. My wife (used to) read a lot of erotica and enjoyed a variety of genres. But we never once tried any of it in the bedroom. I have made it known that I am willing to try anything but she says it's 'just fantasy stuff' and couldn't imagine doing it in real life. Recently my wife has said (to me) a few times that she doesn't use sex toys, when it has come up in conversation. She says it like it's some sort of decision she's made, like 'I don't eat gluten' or 'no carbs after 6pm'. It's weird considering she seems to cum hard with them - could that be why she's stopped? Does she not want to be reminded of what a deep intense orgasm feels like because I can't deliver the same?

Bonus: If you left your current lover, what would you miss the most?
~ A great question and difficult to answer since (despite all the whining on my blog) I couldn't contemplate leaving her.

Double Bonus: if you read my blog daily you might have seen this spooky coincidence on Sunday. [link]
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How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

Happy TMI Tuesday!

Monday, May 22, 2017

The Man Who Had It All

This is not one of my old posts, but one by Pervertically Virtuous
In the process of recovering my own old posts via email I discovered some of hers. Like me, her old accounts have been terminated, and she seems to have disappeared from the internet. This is a damn shame since I consider her one of the best sex bloggers I've ever had the chance to read and follow. I'm reposting her old posts as a historical archive, and if she ever returns to blogging I'm happy to hand them back to her.
To be clear: the copyright on this work is hers, and remains with her - I didn't write it and I make no claim to it. 

(FYI: all links in this post are good)

Pervertically Virtuous posted: "After the exhilarating dentist chair/nitrous oxide face-fucking episode, Karlo and I walked over to a club nearby. Partying almost exclusively in the Burner scene for the last 3 years, I've stopped going to other electronic music events, and it was nice t"

A goodbye blowjob, instead of a goodbye kiss.

recovered post by Pervertically Virtuous

The Man Who Had It All

by Pervertically Virtuous
After the exhilarating dentist chair/nitrous oxide face-fucking episode, Karlo and I walked over to a club nearby. Partying almost exclusively in the Burner scene for the last 3 years, I've stopped going to other electronic music events, and it was nice to do something different. It was dark, the music wasn't too pumping, and my friends weren't there yet, so Karlo and I hung out together, danced, and made out. We contemplated whether anyone would notice if we fucked right there on the dance floor. We did another bump of cocaine and swallowed more molly.

In hindsight, both were a bad idea, the molly in particular. Cocaine is great for dancing and socializing, but it doesn't make me very sexual; luckily its effects subside after an hour. Molly does make me sexual and sensual, but makes it really hard to cum; and unfortunately, its effect lasts for hours... In fact, the whole dance party before the sex was unnecessary – that night was about sex, not about partying, and we should've just gone straight home and fucked for hours. Without drugs. But oh well. The evening was still pretty amazing.

A bunch of my Burner friends showed up soon. This will be Karlo's first year at Burning Man, so he had a million questions about it to ask everyone. We chatted, danced, and around 3 AM politely declined all invites to the after party and snuck out. Once back at his place, we did more molly and then started the delightfully slow, long process of finally getting to the fucking part.

We made out in the kitchen. We made out on the living room sofa. We took each other's clothes off, sat across from each other on the sofa, and watched each other masturbate. We admired each other's bodies. Snapped a couple of photos. Made out some more. He was a great kisser.

More so, he was a great lover. He had said earlier that his motto with women was: 'I might never see you again after this, but while we're together, you're the center of my universe and I will treat you like a queen.' I'm the same way and I really like it when men share that philosophy, because it really makes for a spectacular experience.

By the time we finally took it to the bedroom, I was so ready to be entered, my pussy was aching for his big cock... When he slid his monster inside me, I was trembling. I'd been waiting for it for so long, I was loving the slow, sensual build-up for something that was going to be a long, hard, raunchy night.

He filled me up so nicely, like I haven't been filled up in a while... I was hungry for his manhood, I wanted it in me again and again so badly that the first time around I wouldn't let him come. I didn't know if he'd be able to get another erection, so each time he came close to orgasm I would push him off of me, tell him to slow down, to breathe, to hold off. He listened.

After 4 or 5 edgings, I realized I wasn't anywhere near coming. I had too much molly in my system to climax. I was incredibly horny, and wanted more and more, but just couldn't climax. So I let him come. He pulled the condom off and covered my face with his cum. He couldn't believe he managed to hold it off so many times, said he never did that. And I soon realized why: He didn't need to.

Because only a few short minutes later, his cock was back up and ready for more action. He fucked me for about 10-15 minutes and came again. And then again, and again. Four times in the 2-3 hours that I managed to keep him awake. Ah, that was the perfect kind of lover for me: I prefer many shorter fucks over the course of the evening than one very long fuck.

I gave up on trying to come myself that evening – I knew I'd get my orgasms in the morning when the drugs were out of my body – and just enjoyed his gorgeous body on mine, his enormous dick inside my pussy and mouth, and... his continual dirty talk.

Because, oh boy, could this man dirty talk! I couldn't believe the amount of filth that was spilled out of his mouth during those few hours - it was like a soundtrack that just went along with having sex with him. I'm usually not a big fan of dirty talk – mostly because it often sounds silly and repetitive, reminds me of bad, fake porn. And I'm not a big dirty talker myself – mostly because I'm just not that creative to come up with that many sexy, dirty things to say. But Karlo was really good at it. He described in detail everything that was happening, everything I was doing to him, everything he was doing to me, everything he wanted to and was going to do to me... It wasn't silly and repetitive, it was hot. He was so good at it, he inspired me to spout some filth myself. And it turned me on. I should record him next time, heh.

Around 6.30 AM, Karlo passed out. I wanted more, but he was spent, and there was not much to do but try to fall asleep. Sleeping with someone you don't know can be tricky, but he was easy and nice to even sleep with: he spooned, but not too tightly, without trying to suffocate me. Ah, this man was almost perfect.

We woke up around noon the next day. He had to meet his whole family for Mother's Day, and I was meeting my friends at the after-after party. But we took 3 long hours to get out of the house. We started with a fuck. I was barely conscious when he flipped me on my stomach and fucked me from behind. My pussy was sore and swollen from all the friction the night before, and his big cock felt even bigger – my pussy was so tight, he barely had room to slide it in. With the drugs completely out of my system by then, I could come and come and come. The fuck didn't last long enough to make it up for all the missed orgasms night before, but it was great to climax a few times after all that teasing.

He made us espresso and we enjoyed the sunny day out on his balcony watching the city go by. He told me how his family had emigrated from Russia when he was 5 with $500 and one suitcase each, how they had to start from scratch. How that taught him the value of money and hard work and helped him get to where he was now. He lamented the fact that so many people live inauthentic, scripted lives never daring to veer off the beaten path – like his brother and sister-in-law who worked their asses off at jobs they didn't like so they can send their kids to private schools, felt poor in comparison to their even richer friends, and never seemed satisfied with their lives. He, on the other hand, was living his life exactly the way he wanted.

And he really seemed like the man who had it all. He was painfully good-looking: his face was gorgeous, his teeth flawless, his height adequate, his body perfectly toned. He was the ultimate lover: an enormous cock that can get hard, fuck, and come multiple times a night; a good kisser; passionate and attentive; even nice to sleep with. He had a great apartment in the coolest neighborhood in NYC, a job he absolutely loved, a beautiful office walking distance from his apartment, lots of money to pay for the things he likes (cars, motorcycles, adventure sports, travel), and 2 months of vacation a year to enjoy those things.

The only disadvantage to his personality that I could find after spending one long night with him was that he was wound a bit too tightly, as if any minute he could explode into unseen rage if only the opportunity arose. He liked to use 'fucking' as an adjective in virtually every sentence. He liked to talk about himself and hear himself talk. He was acutely aware of all his blessings and not shy to flaunt them. I guess it's hard not to get a bit full of yourself when you have everything going for you. He was the perfect example of a testosterone - and dopamine - driven alpha male.

And there, my dear readers, is the straw that will save me from drowning in his sea of almost perfection; the red flag that will prevent me from helplessly falling in love. He would make an amazing fuck buddy or friends-with-benefits, but we would never work long term: We're both highly dominant and we'd be butting heads every step of the way. It'd be a major disaster. I suspect he will end up with someone much more deferential and docile than me. Perhaps I should add 'cannot be too alpha male-ish' to my Relationship Checklist?

Also, although he claimed to be very respectful of women and of their choices to be whoever they wanted to be, I suspect there are some traditional gender attitudes and stereotypes ingrained in his mind (yes, Madonna/whore dichotomy, I'm looking at you!) that would preclude him from considering me as a long-term partner. Finally, we barely scratched the issue of non-monogamy in relationships, but I suspect he would not be OK with my level of openness.

So I just need to keep these things in mind when my mind stubbornly keeps wandering off into the direction of his gorgeousness...

Lounging naked in the sun, sipping on the live-giving bitter black liquid, discussing life, sex, science, relationships, we could've gone on for hours. But we both had to go. After stepping out of the shower he called me a car. He looked so sexy, naked on the phone, that I dropped down on my knees and wrapped my lips around his semi-erect cock. It had already been 2 hours since he'd come last, so he got hard again in no time. I didn't get a chance to come before he shot a load down my throat, but it was hot nonetheless.

A goodbye blowjob, instead of a goodbye kiss.

Out on the street, I could still taste his cum while waiting for the cab to arrive.

To be continued...

Related posts:
My Relationship Checklist
Face-Fucked in a Dentist Chair with Nitrous Oxide
Pervertically Virtuous | May 22, 2013 at 11:36 am | Tags: alpha male, blowjob, casual sex, dirty talk, dominant, drugs, horny, Karlo, orgasm, sex stories | Categories: Casual sex, Sex Stories

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Just a Simple Strap-On Ass Fucking

This is not one of my old posts, but one by Pervertically Virtuous
In the process of recovering my own old posts via email I discovered some of hers. Like me, her old accounts have been terminated, and she seems to have disappeared from the internet. This is a damn shame since I consider her one of the best sex bloggers I've ever had the chance to read and follow. I'm reposting her old posts as a historical archive, and if she ever returns to blogging I'm happy to hand them back to her. 
To be clear: the copyright on this work is hers, and remains with her - I didn't write it and I make no claim to it. 
(FYI: all links in this post are good)

Pervertically Virtuous posted: "The night after our fizzled scene with Shy Boy (see Charity Gay Sex) was going to be my last night with slave-boy before my weekend trip to NYC. With all the travel, slave-boy's work schedule, and my period woes (see Period Woes, Celebrity Sex Tapes, and "

recovered post by Pervertically Virtuous

Just a Simple Strap-On Ass Fucking

by Pervertically Virtuous
The night after our fizzled scene with Shy Boy (see Charity Gay Sex) was going to be my last night with slave-boy before my weekend trip to NYC. With all the travel, slave-boy's work schedule, and my period woes (see Period Woes, Celebrity Sex Tapes, and OTK), we hadn't played much over the last 2 weeks and I was missing him.
I also really wanted him. The image of him being dominant with Shy Boy the night before was still fresh in my mind. I rarely have a chance to see slave-boy as a man, as the aggressor, as the one taking initiative, and when I do, I am reminded of just how sexy and good-looking he is. I wanted him.
So when he came home from work around midnight, I granted him the privilege of sleeping next to me. I locked the collar to the chain next to the bed and got on top of him. Then, probably for the first time in months, I started kissing him. Slowly, tenderly, lovingly. I couldn't remember the last time I'd kissed him. I kiss his wounds, his body, his cock, but rarely his lips. He later said he almost didn't know what to do! But I was enjoying tasting him...
He didn't know whether it was going to be just a quick tease or whether I was going somewhere with it. And for a short while, neither did I. I wanted to fuck him, to have sex with him somehow, but I was still too bloody to have him inside me. And then it occurred to me that there were no obstacles to me being inside him. Yes, that was exactly what I wanted to do: After all that anal teasing the night before, I needed to fuck his ass. It was going to be a light session, no breathplay, no gags, no serious restraints, just a good ol' strapon ass fucking.
"I haven't fucked your ass in so long" I breathed into his ear.
He didn't need to hear anything else. He had assumed I wanted him doggy style so he offered up his collar so I could unlock it.
"No, just like this," I stopped him. "I want to look at you while I fuck you. Get your cuffs."
He reached over the side of the bed and, after some fumbling, came up with the bondage mitts instead. He grinned lopsidedly and asked if those were OK. Yes, of course they were. I strapped him into the black leather mitts and attached those to the ropes on each side of the bed, but left his legs free. I put on my harness and attached the smaller of the two available dildos (since it'd been a while): a very comfortable, flexible silicone, silver dildo. I propped his lower back up with a couple of pillows, poured copious amounts of lube on my glittery cock and his ass, and slid the dildo in slowly and carefully.
It soon became obvious that this care was unnecessary! That strapon is not very big and he was so eager to take it, that in less than a minute he greedily swallowed it all and was moaning and drooling like a total slut. I alternated between twisting his nipples, jerking his cock, and slapping his cock and balls when he seemed to be having too much fun, all the while telling him what a dirty slut he was. He just kept saying "thank You Miss.. thank You Miss..".
I first had him fuck himself, hump my cock while I sat immobile. I then lifted his legs up in the air toward his chest and kept the fucking myself. It was really hot: his animalistic roars of pleasure, his hard cock bobbing up and down on his stomach, and my strapon going in and out - sometimes slowly, sometimes hard and fast... I edged him to orgasm a couple of times, but didn't let him come. He knows better than to come before I do.
I thought how I wanted to fuck his ass with the larger dildo, the thick black monster cock. I was too deep in the moment and too lazy to actually do the switch, but that thought brought me to the edge. I put my right hand underneath my harness and started rubbing, while I used my left hand to push him onto my cock. "Take my cock, you little slut. You are such an insatiable little whore. Always hungry for cock, aren't you?" "Yes, Miss, I'm your slut," he would grunt.
He later said I stared down at him with that "you little slut" twisted grin on my face while fingering myself through the harness, a look he'll never forget, inextricably connected as it is with amazing things happening to him.
Eventually I came, throaty and deep-voiced as I usually do, almost with a violent groan. I kept fucking him hard, pulling on his nipples, and jerking his cock more consistently. He was writhing in pleasure, not knowing whether I was going to make him come or mercilessly tease him and deny him the ultimate pleasure. I knew he wouldn't last long, and very soon he uttered his plea:
"May I come, Miss?"
I thought about saying no, but he hadn't come in 2 weeks and wasn't going to for at least a few more days, and I decided to be merciful.
"Yes, you may. Come for me, my boy."
Cum started spurting out of his cock and covered his stomach in thick white blobs. I kept fucking and stroking him all through his orgasm.
He says there is nothing like an orgasm while being assfucked. That, of course, non-anal orgasms can be quite fulfilling on their own, but there is this whole new dimension of subjected-ness to being fucked like a slut and forcefully brought to orgasm. I wonder if this is different for men, since that is the only way they can get penetrated...?
As he lay there, spent, helpless, grateful, with my dildo still in his ass, I felt a tingle in my pussy announcing the potential for a second orgasm. Holding his slowly retreating cock, and only gently pushing no more than an inch of the dildo in and out of his ass, I quickly rubbed myself to another climax.
Only then did I remove the silicon cock, and fed him little handfuls of his copious load at a time. He remarked that he tasted a lot sweeter than Shy Boy the night before...
God, I love pegging men.
Related posts:
Charity Gay Sex
Period Woes, Celebrity Sex Tapes, and OTK
A Lazy Sadistic Orgasm
Pervertically Virtuous | May 20, 2013 at 10:28 am | Tags: anal sex, bondage, horny, orgasm, sex stories, slave, strapon, tease and denial | Categories: BDSM, Sex Stories |

Friday, May 19, 2017

A Toothed Blowjob

This is not one of my old posts, but one by Pervertically Virtuous
In the process of recovering my own old posts via email I discovered some of hers. Like me, her old accounts have been terminated, and she seems to have disappeared from the internet. This is a damn shame since I consider her one of the best sex bloggers I've ever had the chance to read and follow. I'm reposting her old posts as a historical archive, and if she ever returns to blogging I'm happy to hand them back to her.
To be clear: the copyright on this work is hers, and remains with her - I didn't write it and I make no claim to it. 

(FYI: all links in this post are good)

Pervertically Virtuous posted: " All in all, the Gay Sex Charity adventure with Shy Boy turned out to be fairly disappointing. His shyness, his lack of any sort of initiative, and the failure to get his ass fucked for any meaningful period of time left both me and slave-boy feeling s"

recovered post by Pervertically Virtuous

A Toothed Blowjob

by Pervertically Virtuous

That's not me, but you get the idea ;-)











All in all, the Gay Sex Charity adventure with Shy Boy turned out to be fairly disappointing. His shyness, his lack of any sort of initiative, and the failure to get his ass fucked for any meaningful period of time left both me and slave-boy feeling somewhat frustrated.
We lay in bed talking through the scene. It was only 1 AM and I was all wound up. It was only the 2nd day of my period and I was still bleeding a bit too much to take a cock vaginally without making a total mess, but with all the pretty visuals I had been getting and all the molesting little touches I had been providing to both boys up until a few minutes before, clearly something had to give.
"I know what I'll do!" I exclaimed as I thought of a compromise. "I'm going to give you a blowjob," I said with a disturbing note of mirth in my voice.
"A 'bad' blowjob" slave-boy replied. He knew exactly what he was in for – a toothed, chewing blowjob. A warm objectified feeling came over him: He was going to suffer for me, with very little prospect of orgasming himself. He knew that - had things gotten to that point - I would have probably let him come inside Shy Boy while jerking him off and I would've finished off an orgasm of my own. But that possibility was gone and I now simply needed some relief.
I gently chewed on his semi-rigid cock until it started to swell and then I started moving my teeth up and down his shaft. He screamed in pain. His pain was my pleasure and I started rubbing my pussy vigorously. But, to my displeasure, the pain was causing him to start losing hardness. So I gave his nipples some friendly attention. So much attention, in fact, that he couldn't help but hump my toothed orifice, scraping his sensitive skin against my incisors. By this time, he had given himself over completely to the slut in him, so he started tweaking and pulling his own nipples while making slutty noises in order to stay hard for me.
The thought of him causing himself pain for my pleasure was so enjoyable and I came in no time. Slave-boy, of course, was nowhere close. I got one more orgasm out of his poor suffering cock and that was the end of that night.
Similar/Related posts:
A Lazy Sadistic Orgasm
Charity Gay Sex 
Pervertically Virtuous | May 19, 2013 at 10:00 am | Tags: bdsm, blowjob, D/s, desire, orgasm, pain, slave | Categories: Sex Stories 

Thursday, May 18, 2017

The Talky Bit BEFORE Sex

This is the Prequel to yesterday's post Listening Without Hearing, which is why I haven't named it Part Two. It also shouldn't be confused with The Talky Bit After Sex, for the tenuous reason that this discussion happened before the sex, not after.

True story: I'd actually planned to seduce my wife in the car on the way home from the airport (it was a nightflight)
because I suspected she needed 'novelty' to kickstart her flagging libido. That plan was dashed when.... [read on]
So as you know, my wife and I hadn't had sex since April 8 but that 'drought' was broken on Tuesday night - May 16. Drought is probably the wrong word since I was more than happy to make it rain, but my wife is the Gatekeeper and she follows her own needs* - with very little regard to mine. And so even though she saw fit to send me away to School Camp (read more here) before she herself left for Europe (read more here) she did not feel the need to share any sexual intimacy with me prior to our near three week separation.

She also did not feel the need to share any sexual intimacy with me upon her return home either, despite giving me a big hug and a kiss and telling me how much she missed me. So all that showering and manscaping I did prior to collecting her at the airport was for nothing, and the mood was further killed when she turned up with a man in tow to whom she'd offered a ride home from the airport. The pair of them babbled about their BNG conference for the entire trip, which sounded like one long boozefest. So much for 'learnings', right?

Anyway, no sex when we got home and no sex that weekend and... cut to last weekend. Actually, the Thursday before last weekend.

I noticed in her diary an appointment on Thursday afternoon for a Spa treatment with the place I know she get's her waxing done. Could I be in for a 'special treat'? Given our previous conversations on this subject (the subject being please let me know straight away so I can enjoy your smooth bare pussy before the regrowth starts) I was certain she'd let me know if she had. She didn't. I knew we had a party to go to on Friday night so maybe she was waiting until then for the big reveal?

She wasn't.

Despite drinking lots of champagne and wine (and chatting to a handsome single man for an hour, who she'd promised to fix up with one of her single friends - "but first you must tell me all about yourself") when we got home she went straight to bed and went to sleep. Saturday night was exactly the same, except this time we went to a Japanese restaurant with another couple and my wife consumed a lot of sake. And we got home she went straight to bed, and sleep.

Nothing happened Sunday either.

So on Tuesday night we had another function, but were home by 10pm. My wife had enjoyed the wine and this time she was very direct. "Are you coming to bed?" she asked, leaning forward to give me a peck on the cheek. "Why?" I asked, "what do you want?" It might have seemed obvious what she wanted but she's done this before, and then when I get to bed she says she's tired, needs to be up early for a meeting, and goes to sleep. So this time I was taking no chances. Neither was she. "Nothing," she answered, "I just thought you should get to bed early."

Well, that was helpful.

She slunk off to bed and I weighed my options. If she wanted sex and I failed to come upstairs and initiate then she would be blame me, and get all sulky. If she didn't want sex and I came upstairs and initiated but she rejected me then I would get all sulky. We hadn't sex for over a month so it was a no brainer: I went upstairs. But I decided we would have a little chat first - assuming she wanted sex of course.

She did.

When I came up she was already in bed with the lights out - but when I entered the bedroom she threw back the covers and switched on the light. Which had been pre dimmed. She was clearly trying to set the mood as she tapped the empty mattress beside her. Ordinarily I'd dive right in there, but first I had a few questions. Luckily she had a few answers.

I asked her if she really wanted sex or just thought we should do it because we hadn't done it for a while and she felt bad about 'not performing her wifely duties' (that's a joke older married couples make). She said she did want to have sex, because she wanted to have sex. I countered with 'why now?' - why now and not before, what made now so different. I pointed out that we didn't have sex before I left for School Camp, and knowing that she wasn't going to see me for a few weeks she clearly had no desire to fuck me back then.

I pointed out that when she got back from Europe she again had no desire to fuck me, so what made today so special? She said she had her period as she flew home, and then she had a lot of presentations to do later in the week, and ... yadda yadda yadda. I told her that we didn't have to have penetrative sex, and that going without any sex really does my head in, and this wasn't the first time I'd told her that, and we could do 'other things' instead, and .... she said yadda yadda yadda.

I asked her why she didn't want to have sex on the weekend, given we'd gone out on both Friday and Saturday night, and had good time each night and she hummed and hahed and... went into a long discourse about how she wanted to have sex but when she thinks about sex she thinks about what happens after we have sex, penetrative sex, namely cystitis, and how afterwards she always needs to go on antibiotics, and how knowing that really puts a dent in her libido, and she needed to find a good lube because the last tube was so awful (it was) but now she had bought two new tubes, different brands, and so now we could have sex...

I knew she'd bought two new lubes because she'd bought them on her first day home and left them on the kitchen bench, and then asked me to move them upstairs in a panic when she thought our daughter was coming downstairs and would see them. Clearly she'd forgotten that she'd asked me to do that, and that that was over a week ago, because she was making out that she had just bought them and that's why we could have sex now.

I decided not to call her on it but continued the discussion. I told her again that we didn't have to have penetrative sex if that always caused her issues, and said that we could do other things. She said that wasn't the same, because oral and handjobs were really just foreplay and every time we did it we ended up wanting to fuck. I could tell she was really telling me how she felt. I said that was fine, I didn't always need penetrative sex I just needed some sexual intimacy, and besides if she really wanted to be fucked we could use the lube for anal. She laughed - and then realised I was serious.

She said it (anal) wasn't the same, and I said that's what sex toys were for - so she would be super aroused, if not cumming already - and then she said sex toys 'weren't the same' either. At which point I was wondering WTF she was wanting - until I remembered a question in this week's TMI Tuesday. I think she wants 'romantic sex' as opposed to 'kinky sex'. And then out of the blue she starts talking about This Guy - the guy she met at the European conference and then returned to his hometown for 3 days of R&R ie long walks in the park, museum and art gallery visits, and dinners.

Apparently he just happens to be working on an organic herbal 'medicine' for women like my wife who are getting older and having problems 'down there' - just like my wife is!! He has all the knowledge apparently, but my wife assured me that she never once 'talked about us and our issues'. In fact she reiterated that point so many times as she told me about him and their conversations that I am of course convinced she told him all about 'our issues'. I know my wife too well not to think she didn't dish everything after two glasses of wine.

I can't say much more without possibly giving away his identity or the product he's developing (the internet is such a small random place, really) which could in turn reveal my wife's identity.  Suffice to say my wife is assisting him with his product and no doubt she'll be testing it too at some stage. So the two of them will be bonding even more closely in the next year - ain't that cool? I decided I didn't really want to talk about him anymore (she kept going on and on about how much he knew about vaginas, like he was some sort of global expert) (he's not) so I suggested we have sex instead.

My wife grinned, leapt up, and straddled my face... she was wet, primed, and ready to ride!

[continued tomorrow - just the sex, no angst!]