jump to navigation

Emotional connection September 30, 2010

Posted by Leah in Gallimaufry.

A reader asks: after all this physical interfacing and intercourse, where do you get your emotional connection from? Is sex only desire filling?

There isn’t an emotional connection in a one night stand. In many respects, sex is cleanest this way. Both partners know precisely what the encounter is about, and there are no expectations for what comes after. We have our fun and go our separate ways. I like the arrangement.

Sex with a regular partner entails an emotional bond. There are other examples, but Frank’s is the most recent case. He earned subsequent invitations to my bed by being engaging conversation and a phenomenal fuck on the first go. It helped that this was a serendipitous meeting rather than a Craigslist liaison. With time a connection developed. We hung out together on many occasions that didn’t involve sex. As I noted in my farewell post, by the end of the summer we had become tight, and the sex was an extension of that friendship. As a bonus, with familiarity the play had improved because we knew what made each other happy and cared in a personal way.

Ours was not the closest bond in my life, and Frank knew that. The relationship never approximated boyfriend and girlfriend. Days would go by when we didn’t communicate even by text. There were subjects we never discussed. For all I know, he had other lovers over the course of the summer. I mentioned my occasional entanglements in passing. I talked to him about my boyfriend. Frank spoke about prior relationships but never about current ones. I didn’t press the issue.

The situation with D/s regulars is similar, except that kinky sex is involved. Part of the selection process for these fuck buddies is whether they can bring me into subspace and manage how emotional I get when I am there. Thus far, this submersion has happened in London only on three occasions, two of which were with the boyfriend. A man I called Daddy handled the third beautifully.

I get my emotional fix from the boyfriend when we are together. When apart, we still communicate every day. We talk several times a week, for hours sometimes. There is as well the occasional Skype sex, which I haven’t written about in any detail. Long distance is not ideal for a relationship that is still young and whose future remains uncertain. We manage the stress as best we can.

I am close to my family. I make friendships easily. I rely on these bonds, here and in the States, to keep me grounded and sane.

Finally, I should add that I am more comfortable writing in public about my sex life than I am about my emotional core. This inevitably tilts the focus of the blog toward the physical sensations rather than the psychological ones.

Big head vs. little head September 28, 2010

Posted by Leah in Fellatio, Masturbation, Random hookups.

Last Friday I went to dinner with a group of students, some of whom invited their friends to join. Almost twenty of us crowded around rectangular tables pressed together in the basement of an Italian restaurant. I hit it off over the meal with Joseph, who sat diagonally from me. He fences and possesses an encyclopedic knowledge of knives and swords. After the meal, half of us went to the pub next door. People began to head out a little before midnight. Discreetly, I invited Joseph home with me.

He was fabulous at kissing. His lips applied just the right amount of pressure. He gently sucked on my lips. The hands knew where to touch and how. Fingers combed my hair. He caressed my back and ass, stroked my thighs, fondled my breasts. Once we had dispatched our clothes, he pinched the pussy lips together and tugged at the labia. A finger hooked inside my cunt and brushed behind the clitoris. All the while, his tongue danced with me.

Given how good he was at kissing, I was eager to have him eat my pussy.

I had been holding his erection during our kisses. Deciding that it was time to end the foreplay, I broke contact with his mouth, bent at the waist, and took the glans past my lips.

Joseph pulled away from me. “I can’t do this,” he sputtered.

A look of bafflement flashed over my face.

“I have a girlfriend,” he explained.

“Then go.”

He hastily dressed, mumbled a cursory goodbye, and left. His footfalls pounded down the stairs.

Once he had escaped, I retreated to the bedroom, shrugged off the bathrobe I had donned, brought the purple aluminum dildo out of the toy drawer, and masturbated. Joseph’s cock was in my mouth briefly, so we technically had sex.

A farewell to Frank September 25, 2010

Posted by Leah in Anilingus, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups.

Another of the things I haven’t written about is my friendship with Frank. I believe in the buddy part of fuck buddy. I wouldn’t have bedded with him throughout the summer if our personalities had clashed. We usually have dinner on the days we play. We watch a movie on the laptop. We kiss and cuddle on the sofa, drinking beer, telling stories. He stops by my office sometimes, and we disappear for a coffee. We can talk for hours, before sex and after.

Frank leaves for Oxford this weekend. We said our goodbyes on Thursday. The university is two hours and eleven pounds away, so it’s not as though I won’t ever see him again — but I won’t see him as often, and I will miss him.

We went to bed after midnight. My body rested on top of his, pinioning him to the mattress. Eyes closed, tongues touching, lips nipping, our faces rotated endlessly. He reached up my shirt, slipped a hand under the bra, and held my breast. Legs scissored against his, I pressed my pussy at the swelling at his groin. Later, I sat straddling him, running my hands over his bare torso, fingers tracing the lines of the muscles in his arms and chest. I kissed and licked, memorizing with my lips the patterns of the plates, the way he tasted and smelled.

When I pulled off his jeans and underwear, the cock stood before me like an obelisk. I pressed it flat against the pubis and belly and kissed his balls. My tongue rasped over the light scattering of hair that covered the scrotum. The testicles were well defined in the sac. I saw them in the dim light and sucked each one. I masturbated his shaft while I swished saliva around the bulbous head.

Frank sat up. Once he had pulled my shirt off, I fed him my breasts. He unbuckled my belt and dragged my jeans down to my knees. The panties followed. He rolled a condom on his penis and fucked me from behind. His hands toyed with my nipples and my clit. I moaned in pleasure, at the tightness of my movements, constrained as I was by the denim. We didn’t cycle through a panoply of positions as we usually do to prolong the sex. He thrust into my cunt the ten or so minutes it took for my pussy to cream, rode the orgasm out, and detonated soon after. I removed the condom, finished undressing, and sucked him to hardness again, fingering my clit as I did. Another condom dressed over the erection, and I was a sky walker as he brought his weight on top of my chest.

In the end, I had him lie on his stomach. I sat on his buttocks and rubbed my hands over the muscles of his back. The kisses started at his ear and dropped to the neck. The tongue followed the line of the shoulder. I lifted his arms and sniffed his armpits and kissed along the flank, down on the left side, crossing over at the bottom, and reversing direction on the right. My nose drew zig-zag sketches on his broad shoulders as my lips pressed wetly over the soft skin. The tongue followed the ridges of the shoulder blades that stood in prominent relief on either side and swept down the valley of the spine to his buttocks. I bit his ass cheeks and soothed the teeth marks with kisses and tongue.

Positioning him on elbows and knees, legs apart, I nosed into the divide of his rump. The hair tickled my chin. The cheeks spread on either side of me and warmed my face as I made love to his anus. The tongue washed around the winking pucker, relaxing the muscle so that I could push the tip past the sphincter. My hands reached under his balls and stroked the cock while I kissed his ass. Though he wriggled beneath me, I took my time in licking and sucking him. I made sure that the climax was slow in arriving because this was something I had introduced him to and also his new favorite.

A window is not a door September 25, 2010

Posted by Leah in Autobiography, D/s.

A reader asks: would it be fair to say that your life revolves around sex?


It would be fair to say that my blog revolves around sex. This is what I choose to write about. You are viewing me through a misshaped lens. To use a dubious analogy, think of a Picasso painting where the genitals are magnified and distorted. Can you call this a representational portrait?

I don’t tell about my studies, my research, or my work. This is why I am in London, however. It occupies most of my time. It is an intellectual challenge and a thrill. I am lucky to have this pleasure in my life. I don’t tell about the oddities of academia. I don’t tell about playing the non-skin flute in a pickup orchestra. I don’t tell about hanging out with friends, exploring the bookshops, going to the museums, seeing plays, or experiencing the vibrant music scene I have discovered in this city. I don’t tell about wandering the streets on weekends or trying new cuisine. I don’t tell about evenings in pubs drinking in the company of friends and colleagues. I don’t tell about shopping with my girlfriends. I don’t tell about home, or how I miss it.

I tell about fucking. This is undeniably a significant part of who and what I am. But there’s more to a person than the sex that is had. Even in what I write, I don’t enter the emotional or confessional mode often. A prism bends the light and separates the colors. You’re seeing but one hue.

Sex is anyway not essential the way food is, so my life doesn’t require it. I have had celibate stretches in my past. But I enjoy fucking and don’t see the need to deprive myself anymore than I see a need to live my life without music.

Is triple penetrated oral, anal, vaginal?

Yes. It has been asked several times now, so I might as well say a few words.

When I was an undergraduate discovering my sexual persona, I tried out the local D/s scene — i.e., sex clubs and sex parties. I met a couple of decent, trustworthy, playful doms who guided me through a sequence of sexual discoveries. The scene was an exuberance for someone still new to sex and kink. I prefer one on one now. My last time in a club was three years ago — it was a dungeon theme. I left after half an hour. The excitement had vanished.

At twenty, I participated in gang bangs. I have had double digit cocks in me in a single night. I had seen double and triple penetration in porn and wanted to try it out.

Being multiply penetrated is an exercise in geometry. It is not easy to get three or four people moving in tempo. Sucking a cock while being fucked from below or behind is the easiest. Having a cock in the pussy and anus at the same time is more tricky. Invariably a penis slips out, and we need to pause to reposition ourselves. The fullness both ways is amazing. It hurts somewhat to begin. But usually, there is so much going on that the adrenaline overwhelms the discomfort. I feel replete when plugged front and back. The third cock in my mouth to make me watertight completes the tableau.

I envision doing this again. But it is not a priority. For threesomes, I prefer female-female-male to female-male-male.

I’m interested where the pleasure comes from.

I am an alpha personality. I am fastidious and in control over most facets of my life. Sex is where I let go. Pleasure derives from offering my body and allowing it to become a projection of my partner’s will. The decision to be submissive is a conscious choice. But here, as on the blog, I reserve the last word. I retain a veto. This isn’t theoretical: I have used it. I also have ideas of my own. Sometimes I am guilty of topping from the bottom. A dominant needs a formidable personality to tame me. Physical submission is not the same as mental submission. The latter yields the better high.

The pleasure comes from novelty. The pleasure comes from doing things differently. The pleasure comes from challenging my body. The pleasure comes from pain. The pleasure comes from giving my partner pleasure. The pleasure comes, very rarely, from the vastness of a subspace. (I was there most recently on days six and eight of my boyfriend’s visit.)

There isn’t one answer. I have more to say about all this here.

The luminous flash September 21, 2010

Posted by Leah in Craigslust, Exhibitionism, Fucking, Repeated hookups.

I tutor a French Algerian boy once a week. We met through a strictly Platonic ad that he had placed on Craigslist. His family are recent immigrants to the UK. We get together for coffee, and he practices his English on me while occasionally I make a hash of my high school French with him. The boy has a curiosity and a je ne sais quoi recklessness that keeps our conversations engaging despite the differences in our age and experience.

At our most recent meeting, I wore a pleated black skirt that ended mid-thigh and a low-cut white shirt that showed the tops and the sides of my breasts. I had a date later in the evening with a prospective partner who answered this highly non-Platonic Craigslist ad. That date never went anywhere fun: my instincts told me not to trust the man, so I made my excuses and left after the second beer. Anyway, Frank and I had enjoyed a quickie the day before. He visited for half an hour. We fucked through two of his orgasms and cleaned up together in the shower, and then, energized by the sexual interlude, I went back to work. My cunt wasn’t pressing to get laid. I would wait for the right man instead of submitting to the wrong one.

At the café, my skirt rode under me when my weight sunk into the plush easy chair and I perched one knee atop the other. Across the coffee table, Ismail’s eyes followed the bend of my right leg and trailed along the outside of my thigh nearly to the very top. He gazed into the shadow of the skirt, looked down at the ground, then looked up again. His eyes fixed on mine briefly. A few sentences later, they had dropped to my cleavage. They didn’t settle there. No, they descended again. He was evidently a leg man. Ismail stared at my thighs, at the flap of fabric that covered the meeting of my legs, at my calves when I scratched them, glancing away when I caught him looking, stealing back when he thought I didn’t notice. I hid my smile as he spoke into his coffee mug, eyes darting downward.

For an hour, his eyes drunk in my freshly moisturized legs, the smooth shaved skin, the tease of the short skirt. Every so often, for the space of half a minute, he studiously avoided regarding my body altogether, as though conscious of doing something wrong, before returning to check me out once more, compelled to do that thing anyway. He ogled, but he didn’t leer. The look was admiring and wishful. I was amused. I didn’t mind. Resisting the urge to cross my legs the other way, I kept my legs tightly closed and angled my body in the chair to provide him a better view of the upper thigh while I made conversation.

Ismail’s pants had tented. He adjusted the way he sat.

I wondered what he wanted to do. Did he want me lying supine on the wooden coffee table between us? Would he pull my legs apart by the ankles and position himself between them? Would his hands caress the contours of my thighs, reaching up to touch what he couldn’t see? Would he then lift up my skirt to expose the sheer black panties I had worn, the smooth pubis and the cunt below? I am almost certain he has never had sex. Would he know what to do after that? Does he go down to his knees and tongue my lips and clit through the see through mesh of the front panel? Does he tear off my knickers instead and pull down his jeans and extricate his cock and clamber on top and fuck me? Does he want my legs wrapping his, the soles of my bare feet pressing at the backs of his calves while he cups my breast in his palm and fills my mouth with his tongue? How long would it take for him to come once he is inside my pussy hammering away? Will he go home and masturbate imagining the possibilities: my mouth on his cock, my cunt from behind, my ass?

As I tipped my cappuccino mug upside down to collect the dregs and considered what was bouncing around in Ismail’s cranium, I realized that I had become moist between the legs. The notion of taking a boy’s virginity, turning him into a man, then training him into a dominant flitted through my skull. Ismail was legal, but far too young. It was a naughty, impossible fantasy.

The air was chill. Goosebumps mustered on my arms. The clock on my phone said that it was time to go. I uncrossed my legs. Pushing off the armrests of the chair, my knees parted an instant as I lifted to my feet. It happened in a flash. It was cute seeing him look while seeming not to.

It never hurts to ask September 20, 2010

Posted by Leah in Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Fucking, Random hookups.

As I wandered the Southbank area yesterday afternoon, I stopped at the booksellers in front of the National Theatre. I wore denim shorts with black hose underneath, a purple top, and a jean jacket. It was nothing sexy: I had dressed for the weather. A man in his early thirties came up to me as I leafed through prints of birds from old books and maps. “Can I hit on you?” he asked. The candor was refreshing. I laughed.

He had the geek chic going for him. I liked his glasses. “Please do,” I answered.

We sat on the riverfront, drank beer, people watched, and talked. Forty minutes later, we were on the Northern line heading to his place. As we stood on the crowded tube, my back slanted against his chest. Leaning into his arms, I placed his hand over the fly of my shorts. In his bedroom, I undressed him and he undressed me. He carefully tugged my nylons off, kissing the exposed skin inch by inch as he did. He sniffed my panties after he had removed them. Once we were both naked, he sent me flat on my back and ate pussy like a champ, licking and nibbling and fingering till I came. He waved his cock at me after that and had me straddle him. I pushed off his chest with my arms and rode the penis, then spun around so that I could ride him the other way, with hands gripping his thighs as I rose and fell. He held my hips while I gyrated my ass atop his groin. When his orgasm approached, he pulled out of me and shifted my weight off. Sending me sprawling, he stood on the bed, tore the condom away, and ejaculated over my breasts. The side of a finger swiped his semen from my tits. His come tasted salty and brackish.

He recovered his erection during an interlude of sixty-nine. I mouthed his balls and let the cock elongate against my face. I liked the heat of it against my nose and cheeks. The smell was a potent, masculine musk. The second time, he was on top of me. He stuck his index and middle fingers in my mouth. I sucked them, squeezing my tongue in the spaces in between while he thrust into me. Primed by the pussy licking, I came with his penis moving within. It is lovely to clench myself around a new cock.

He made pizza for dinner. We ate sitting on blue wooden chairs, him in a pair of boxers, me wearing bra and panties. I bundled the silky pink fabric to one side and swept my fingers over my slit.

I had work to do. I couldn’t afford to spend the entire night on sex. Going to my knees, I sucked his cock to hardness, replaced the condom, and bent over the table, where the plates and the glasses of wine had been. He moved into position behind me and entered my cunt. He grasped my hips and hauled me backward, driving his pelvis forward as he did. My breasts dragged along the wood of the table, which was cool to the touch and resolutely solid. I shivered. He stuck his thumb in my asshole as he worked my pussy. Fingers strummed my clit as I moaned. It only took him a few minutes to achieve orgasm.

We exchanged numbers. He is a guitarist in a band who does odd jobs to pay the bills. He suggested a weekly hookup. I don’t know whether I will see him again. But as Frank leaves for university in a week, I do need a new fuck buddy in the city.

Be rough with me September 15, 2010

Posted by Leah in Craigslust.

I have been fucking of course, but ever since the boyfriend’s visit the kink quota has been low. I miss it. I want sadistic sex.

I posted a new ad on Craigslist this weekend (below). It disappeared almost at once, so I posted it again and again with variations. None of the responses so far have impressed me.

Be rough with me – w4m

I want you to do me hard.

Throw me to the ground and rip my clothes off. Grab my head. Push your fingers into my scalp. Stick your cock in my face. Pound my throat. Set the vicious tempo that you want. Fuck my mouth like you own it. Make my lips swell at the collision when you bottom out. Twist your fingers in my hair and yank. Use the reins to control my movements. I want you to. I want my nose smashed up against your pubis and your balls pressed up against my chin. I want thick cords of saliva dangling from your shaft as I struggle to keep up with how fast and how rough you are. I want you to compel my face to your balls and ass and have me lick and suck.

Pull me over your lap and spank me. Leave your handprints on my buttocks. Turn my ass and thighs red and purple. Be brutal. I can take it. Spank my clit. Wrench my pussy lips and my nipples. Slap my breasts. Make it hurt. Make me remember you.

Fuck me in all positions. Don’t be gentle.

Drive into me from above so that I feel your weight on top, crushing me. Wrap your hand about my throat and choke me. Spit in my face. Cuff my cheeks hard — left side and right side — with stiff and unyielding fingers and also the back of your hand.

Clutch my breasts and maul them while you thrust into me from below. See how my pussy stretches to accommodate your thick penis? Feel the wetness skating down the sides of your shaft and coating your balls? Lift me by the hips and launch yourself at me. Let me squeeze your cock with the muscles of my cunt. Pinch my clitoris.

Take me from behind. Pull my hair as hard as you can. Tug it by the roots. Set your teeth into my neck. Leave bite marks over my back and shoulders. Grab my bouncing tits and haul me backward. Use your strength to impale my pussy onto your prick. Slam your cock into me. Now do it harder. I want to hear the balls smacking against my buttocks. Rub my clit diligently and aggressively. Keep going. Fuck me through my many orgasms.

Sodomize me. Take my ass. Hammer your erection into my bowels. Stick your fingers in my cunt and feel yourself moving inside my anus. Pull me back by the hips and thighs. Batter me with that cock. Split me in half with your long, thick penis. Let me know how strong and powerful you are. I want to be small and submissive under you.

Come in my mouth. Come on my body. Come in my cunt and my anus. I am three holes for your pleasure. Use me. Be strict with me. Call me the vilest names. Leave bruises behind.

I want a man with phenomenal stamina for a one night stand, a dominant lover who knows how to take charge of an uninhibited, dirty slut like me. You should be muscular and fit. Kinky is good. Intelligence is a definite plus. Condoms are mandatory for vaginal and anal penetration. Be prepared to come several times while we fuck the night away. You will host in Zones 1 or 2.

Please send a picture of your face and your body in your reply. I don’t need to see your hardware.

A seduction in SMS September 14, 2010

Posted by Leah in Anilingus, Buggery, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Fucking, Masturbation, Repeated hookups.

I like it when you squeeze my tits through my shirt while I suck on your tongue like it’s a miniature cock.

I like it when you rub the joining of my legs and make me cream my panties and soak my jeans.

I like it when you say thank you after I come. You’re the only one who ever does.

I like it when you force your spit and my juices back into my pussy and let them drip out again into your open mouth.

I like it when you giggle with pleasure when I tongue your nipples and kiss my way down your chest to your groin.

I like it when you fill my mouth to overflowing, first with your cock and then with your semen.

I like it when you fuck me from behind with the mirror from the wardrobe beneath me so that I can see your cock stretching me open.

(I hope there’s a hard-on in your pants.)

I like it when you ask me to lick your arse in that Oxford lilt of yours.

I like it when you push against the tension at my asshole. The sphincter bows and the muscles embrace you despite the searing ache.

I like it when you bury your cock deep inside me and stay rigid with your weight on top while the walls of my vagina collapse around you.

I like it when you type the dirtiest things.

I like it when you convulse: your spine stiffens and your breathing goes ragged and your eyes roll back and you release an ardent moan.

I want your thick cock sliding in me slowly, penetrating deep. Come fuck me, lover. You know I will beg.

I want to fuck you. I need to fuck, fuck, fuck you. I am your willing slut: Leah, the fuck-toy. Tonight. My flat. Please. Come for me.

He came. He came again and again. So did I.

Urine September 11, 2010

Posted by Leah in Urine.

A reader comments on the urine fetish I have mentioned previously here, here, and here.

I detest the euphemisms “golden showers” and “watersports.” I find urine appealing for several reasons.

• It’s a dirty thing to do. We are trained from a young age that we should pee in private. The act is not the subject of conversation, even in the company of close friends. To sexualize urine produces a visceral thrill.

• It’s an intimate act. It demonstrates how I accept what my partner gives, how there aren’t any secrets between us. Even without drinking it, holding someone’s cock while he pees or pissing into the cup of someone’s hand excites me. I like it when a lover watches me on the can or has me squat and pee. I like doing it on the wooden floor and cleaning up the mess I have made afterwards.

• I like having his piss on my body. I like how the urine wets my hair and cascades down my face. I like it running between my breasts, down my abdomen, to my pussy. I like it coursing over my shoulders and back and buttocks. I like the feel of it as it flows into my cunt and anus and pours out again. I like how, when he has finished, it beads on the skin and seeps into my pores. I enjoy wallowing in a pool of my lover’s warm piss in the cold bathtub. I am wearing his smell.

• The taste is a rush. The first touch on the tongue is hot and acrid. Then the flavor turns sharp and bitter. The warmth of the urine fills my mouth. Often, I let the piss pool up and allow it to spill back out, over my chin and neck. I also swallow. I like gulping it down my throat, guzzling the stream that is sprayed between my lips, taking the heat into my belly.

• In the context of D/s, it’s a way of staking a claim the way animals mark territory. One time in Boston, about three blocks from home, the boyfriend pulled us into an alley. We had been out drinking. He needed to take a piss and couldn’t hold it until we reached the apartment. He made me kneel on the pavement and peed on me. He stood with his legs apart, penis in hand, and released. The urine shot from his cock with force, made a great parabola in the air between us, and splashed between my open shirt, onto my breasts. The warm, pungent piss fell over my chest and into my cleavage. He waved his cock from side to side, soaking my dressy white shirt, turning it yellow and see through. The scent of ammonia clouded around me as the flow diminished to a trickle, then stopped. He blotted the tip against my cheek once he had finished and helped me to my feet. I noticed that my nipples were peaked and showed through the bra. My pussy was drenched in arousal. As we walked home, he clutched my hand fiercely. I sensed that I was his. I stood straighter, letting my tits protrude with the sticky fabric clinging to me. I felt so beautiful.

Many of the same arguments I have made for urolagnia can be applied to coprophilia as well. Scat has no appeal for me whatsoever. It is one of my few hard limits. I love rimming though. Perhaps we are, all of us, an odd amalgam of sexual contradictions.

Have a blast! September 10, 2010

Posted by Leah in Gallimaufry.

A reader asks: do you like that people jack off to what you write?

Honestly, I haven’t pondered this at all. Books and blogs arouse me, but I rarely masturbate while reading the printed word. (Erotic prose read aloud by a lover is quite another matter.)

There’s little enough unalloyed pleasure in this world. If I contribute in some small way to the happiness of a nameless stranger whose eyes happen upon these pages, I am delighted at that prospect.