RSS Feed

June, 2014

  1. Ask Heather: How Do I Pee in front of Sir?

    June 27, 2014 by Heather Cole

    Orange candy heart that reads ask me against white background.

    Dear Heather,

    Sir and i were watching a film together with me sitting by His feet. In the middle of the film i felt the need to go to the bathroom. i got up and said to Sir that i needed to go to pee. Suddenly He asked me, “Do you really want to go to the toilet?” I replied yes. He then asked again, “Would you pee into a glass if I asked you to?”

    i should have known better but i immediately said “Are you kidding me? Of course not!” HUGE MISTAKE to be defiant. He said to me either i peed in a glass in front of Him or hold it. I did hold it till the end of the film and asked Him again. i still didn’t want to pee in from of Sir in a glass. So He ordered me to bend over my bench. He told be He was going to strike me with my paddle 40 times. He would continue till I would go pee in that glass.

    After a dozen of strikes, i said i would try. i tried but nothing came out. Some kind of muscle down there just wouldn’t relax enough for me to pee. Embarrassment was out of my head already. i just wanted to do what Sir wanted me to do. i failed and accepted the rest of the punishment.

    But Sir promised me that He will have me pee in that glass one day.

    Do you have any tips? No matter how much i tried to relax, the pee won’t come out.

    Zoe

    P.S. i am very happy with the blog you and Nikki have. I especially love your letter to your Sir at the anniversary. Very touching and inspirational.

     

    Dear Zoe:

    Thank you so much for writing! I had to squeal with joy that you gave me the opportunity to share this skill I’ve developed. Let’s face it. It’s not every day that you get to offer pointers on how to pee in a cup with an audience. (Although I suppose this would be helpful for drug testing.) Your email about the situation with your Master sent me tripping down memory lane to the first time I tried to pee in front of my sir. Like you, I couldn’t relax enough to do it, and I felt embarrassed that I had failed in my service even though my first reaction was, “YOU WANT ME TO WHAT?.” I’d say that my smartass mouth has improved since then, as well as, my ability to pee in front of an audience, but that’d be a lie.

    A little background for those VA readers who are wondering why the heck this is even a thing… in a dynamic of Dominance and submission, whether it’s part of BDSM or Domestic Discipline or whatever, the Dominant is the doer and the submissive receives the stimulus. Sometimes the action of the Dominant, in this example the command to pee, isn’t the actual fetish. It’s the aspect of control, of making your submissive do something he/she doesn’t really want to. And sadism can certainly play a part if the Dominant enjoys the sub’s discomfort, embarrassment, or humiliation. The submissive on the other hand, providing that the action isn’t a hard limit, often enjoys having boundaries pushed and likes complying with the command. Of course, how this specifically plays out in the dynamic depends on the people involved, but that’s the general outline of the game. And holy moly, can it be a fun fucking game.

    My dear Zoe, there are two specific things that helped my bladder get over its stage fright. The first thing was kegels. (I simply read the word, and I’m compelled to do them.) Here’s a simple how-to and why from the Mayo Clinic. If you don’t do them already, they will be very helpful in teaching you how to control the muscles that control urination. Not to mention the added bonus of tightening up your vag. Stopping your pee midstream while you’re by yourself in the bathroom can illustrate what those muscles feel like when you tighten and release them. This is the first step to many things sexually. Know your body and how it works! When your brain gives the command to stop peeing, you then have to give yourself the command to release. As you become conscious of this instinctive function, you’ll be able to control it more which will allow you to control it better when the time arises for you to do it on command. Hurray!

    I’m guessing that your punishment didn’t help matters either, because your body was tensed for the spanking. Once your muscles are in the place of receiving stimulus, it would be challenging to relax them enough to relieve yourself while feeling embarrassed about doing so (or failing to) in front of your Dominant. The trick is to become comfortable enough to pee and perform way before the situation gets to punishment. Although your spanking sounds pretty hot. Just sayin’.

    The other thing that really helped me was practice. I was partially forced to practice because sir took away my right to privacy. In our house, there are no closed doors except when sir wants his privacy. Otherwise, sir can wander in and watch me do whatever I’m doing in the bathroom. In the beginning, I was appalled. And grossed out. I mean, bathroom functions are private. I don’t like doing them in front of trained medical professionals let alone people I love and have sexy times with.

    I don’t think you have to start peeing with the bathroom door open, but you need to shape up your pee muscles by practicing with kegels. Then you need to practice more by peeing into a cup in the bathroom or wherever you want to do it. Don’t be afraid to make a mess. My first couple times I freaking sprayed pee everywhere. Thank goodness I was in the kitchen (and on the linoleum). I started out with a bowl then worked my way into smaller and smaller cups. When I finally could pee in a juice glass without spilling a drop, I felt like a badass ninja motherfucker. I’m pretty sure I yelled, “Fuck yeah!” and did a victory lap through the dining room.

    When I was finished writing this response, I read it aloud to sir for his feedback. He replied that he didn’t want to condone unsubstantiated claims on the internet (can you tell he’s a lawyer?) so he sent me downstairs to fetch a juice glass. Next thing I know, I’m standing in the bathtub and preparing to pee into the juice glass. I confess that I got a case of the giggles as I watched sir settle himself on the bath mat like he was preparing to watch something riveting on the television. No doubt he wanted to scrutinize the process and add to my nervousness. He suggested that I hum to myself to get things going, but once I focused on the task at hand, I filled that juice cup with ease. I was reminded of two other factors that may help in your training. 1.) It’s easier if you feel the need to go. Not an emergency situation, but wait to practice until you feel a significant urge to empty your bladder. 2.) The more delicate I try to be or the more careful (i.e. when I’m trying making it a trickle), the more I spray or dribble all over myself. It’s when I let go with confidence that I have one single, strong stream. Also, don’t hold the cup too high against your crotch. You’ll only make things messier.

    Once you become familiar with the series of muscles working when you pee, and you get used to peeing in things other than the toilet, I have the utmost confidence that you’ll be able to pee for your Master when the situation calls for it. And when you do, please tell me about your victory lap.

    *boob smoosh*

    Heather


  2. M is for Mouth

    June 13, 2014 by Heather Cole

    My mouth gets me in trouble on a regular basis. I’m sassy, sometimes bordering on bratty, and words are my trade. If you can’t bandy words with me, chances are you won’t get in my pants. A friend joked recently that I always seem to carry a shovel with me. Meaning, I can dig my own grave with my words–a hole I can’t escape. My mouth often speaks before I can think through the repercussions which is one of the reasons sadists love me. I can’t help it so I’ve stopped trying.

    My mouth is central to my submission. I get spanks when I mouth off, among other things, and my mouth is a necessary tool when it comes to cock worship. I don’t give mere blowjobs. I worship, and my mouth is an essential part of this. It’s an intimate connection of taste, scent, and sensation. Until I met sir, I never realized how much fun cock worship could be for the giver. For that moment I’m in control, the architect of his pleasure. I’ve learned how to ply my lips and tongue to incite specific reactions in his body. BJs have become an integral facet of our dynamic, and I’m grateful for all the opportunities he gives me. Even the 3:00 am ones… ok, not those so much because SLEEP.

    Mouths are also a big part of the fiction I write, here and in my novels. Below is an excerpt from “The Professor’s Pet” in Tales of a Filthy Good Girl. (Buy it on Amazon! Pretty please!)

     

    She could always tell when he had a great class: his mood was buoyant and his gestures expansive. He entered the house with a broad smile, and she could feel his body practically vibrating with satisfaction when they embraced. She also recognized the glint in his eye and watched him warily. In these moods he reminded her of a tiger, lazy and lolling on his back one minute, his jaws around her throat the next. They may have been discussing dinner plans, but she could see the wheels turning in his head. It gave her an odd combination of nerves and happiness. It was her favorite kind of game, but as his pet, she never knew what would trigger the switch that would catapult them into a scene. He wanted her on edge, focused and watchful, and that’s where she remained. Until he said otherwise.

    Today was one of those times. He asked her about the roast which she had failed to start in the crockpot. She had a list of excuses, but as they tumbled out in defense, one of his hands came around her throat. The slight pressure stopped her mid-sentence, and she went completely still. He pushed her backwards until she hit the refrigerator, the magnets falling away as collateral damage.

    “I’m not mad, pet,” he said, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin at her throat.

    He captured her mouth and pushed his tongue past the defense of teeth and tongue. Her body responded instantly, betraying her desire. Her arms went around his waist and she tilted her head to give him better access, a flush blooming across her skin. She had the fleeting thought that if she pressed against him she would be able to absorb him into her body. At times like this, her entire world dwindled to the point of pleasing him, and she returned his kisses eagerly.

    “I have better plans than the roast. Go get cleaned up and wear your favorite dress.” He gave her an affectionate pat on the ass.

    She opened her mouth to ask him about the evening’s activities, but his fingertips dug into her neck just enough to halt her words. Blue eyes met hers.

    “I’ve had twenty-somethings in heels and business casual dress striving to please me all day with correct answers and insightful observations. I’ve enjoyed being obeyed at lecture. Are you going to please me now that I’m home?”

    “Yes, professor. I wish to please you more than anything.” It was a truth she felt in her soul and her body, the cleft between her thighs already wet with anticipation.

    “Good girl. Now go get ready.”

    A2Z-Logo-C1-300x198


  3. L is for Learning

    June 12, 2014 by Heather Cole

    If there is one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that I will continually learn new things about myself. I thought my sexual awakening in my late teens was “the big one.” Little did I know that I would have a second, more profound, sexual awakening in my late thirties that would literally rock my world. I thought I knew everything I had to about sex, and I thought, for the most part, that the rest of my life was going to be the occasional, after church, missionary, twenty minutes for the rest of my days. I learned that missionary didn’t have to be the rule, nor did monogamy, and I learned how to find happiness in and out of the bedroom. I’ve learned the my sexuality is fluid as is my sex drive, and I strive to learn more about my partner in order to be a better partner.

    The L-word coincides nicely with June being Adult Sex Education Month. And if you immediately retorted, “Heather, I already know everything I need to know about sex,” then YOU in particular need to read more and explore. Especially if the core of your sex education came from the public school system. Get thee to a sex education blog! Quick!  The more you learn and discover about your own sexual self and sex in general, the more you realize there are holes in your education. And IN you. Heh. Holes.

    Personally, I’m striving to learn more about gender equality. I’m a fan of Laverne Cox, a trans person on Orange is the New Black. (She also made the cover of Time Magazine–and dayum!) In a recent interview, Katie Couric asked her “when you think about the ideal scenario for the trans community, what would that look like?” Cox replied, “I think it goes beyond the trans community. It’s for everyone to have spaces for gender self-determination. I think the idea that one is always and only the gender they were assigned at birth–that idea needs to be challenged. So that we’re not stigmatizing, objectifying, sensationalizing, or criminalizing transgender people, but celebrating them. And celebrating everybody who has the audacity to be themselves and to live authentically.”

    Laverne Cox makes my heart go pitter-pat, and she’s brought the trans community more front-and-center for me. I realize that some people are still struggling to accept gay marriage. Well, sweetums, gender equality should be the next thing on your To Learn List. It’s definitely on mine.

    ~Heather

    **********************************

    As a sex-positive blogger who is a single parent of a teenage daughter and a son who is on the cusp of hormone hell, I’m learning that I have to communicate about sex in a whole new way. It’s a super huge responsibility and awkward at times, but it’s my job to make sure they’re properly educated about all things sex. I have to choose my words wisely, though, because they will be the ones that form their opinions. Like the time the teen brought up the topic of anal sex. I’m still learning how to answer their questions on a level they can understand and sometimes I fuck up, because I’m human.

    ~Nikki

     A2Z-Logo-C1-300x198


  4. H is for How

    June 8, 2014 by Heather Cole

    H is for how 3

    Today’s letter H stands for a question posed to my sir from one of our readers. I confess that I did a little dance of joy at the idea of sir answering. I can never get enough of the inner workings of the man. Or the outer workings, for that matter. Without further ado, here is my beloved:

     

    How long had you been “practicing” before you got together with Heather? When did you know you were dominant?

    These are deceptively simple questions. The more I thought about them, the more complicated and nuanced the answers became. They highlight the relationship between my nature (what kind of person I am) and my nurture (the ways those traits have been developed). In a real sense I was “born this way.” In another sense I “got this way.”

    Let me preface this by saying that I am not a particularly overbearing guy, nor do I consider myself to be a stereotypical alpha-type person. I am quiet in groups even though I am not really shy. I have a talent for fading into the background when I am not looking for attention. Kind of like Kaiser Soze.

    I suppose I have always had a dominant personality, but I never used that term to describe myself until I became active in the kink community. Growing up, I was what you might call rebellious, but not in a physical or anarchistic sense. I had this persistent feeling that rules didn’t necessarily apply to me. I appreciated the importance of laws and rules to govern interpersonal behavior, but I also saw that rules often applied more strictly to some people than to others (two reasons I ultimately went to law school). I studied the rule systems that applied to me so I could figure out where the “wiggle room” was.

    I have worked hard to develop my critical thinking skills and to become an effective advocate. I am fun to argue with (just ask Heather). In high school I was a competitive debater, studying argumentation, formal logic, and fallacies. In college I became more interested in the philosophical aspects of power relations. I focused on things like propaganda (manufacturing consent), class struggle, and grassroots political movements. I grew my hair long and read a lot of Michel Foucault and Saul Alinsky. I also discovered Noam Chomsky, and learned more about how power relationships function on a pragmatic level.

    I was always interested in the ways leverage and persuasion could compel others to do what you want them to do. Although I was never a salesman, that didn’t stop me from reading up on sales techniques and listening to a lot of Tony Robbins. Over time, I got pretty good at manipulating people and situations to get my way. I was never (rarely?) manipulative for malicious purposes; I just felt safer when I was in control of a situation. It was a form of self-preservation.

    Being a pretty clever person, I can get bored easily. I enjoy being challenged intellectually, and I enjoy challenging others. It is my nature, and something that plays a part in my dynamic with Heather.

    I have been kinky since before I knew it was a thing. I had a hosiery fetish at age five. One of my first childhood memories was burying myself in the fresh laundry pile, putting my mother’s stockings on my hands, and rubbing them all over my face. Mmmm. My parents were casual swingers, and although I didn’t realize it at the time, the swinger’s classifieds I found in my parent’s closet provided my first glimpses into non-traditional relationship structures. I lost my virginity at age 16, but before those fateful three minutes I spent most of my sex-starved adolescence contriving increasingly sophisticated methods of masturbation. I “discovered” my own anus years before I got to second base with a girl.

    After college I dated a stripper (who was also, incidentally, a former debater) for a couple of years, which was where I started to get into bondage, impact play, and humiliation. We dabbled in consensual non-consent. She was also a Republican, which helped me get into character (as I am not). Nowadays I would classify her as a babygirl with strong undertones of bratty princess.

    Tying her up while she struggled and then forcing myself into her resisting body really got us both off, but I was confused by the tension between what we were doing and how I had been raised to treat a lady. At the end of our relationship I apologized to her for mistreating her and for being a bad boyfriend. I was surprised at how surprised she was. She said that she had never been treated so well by a man in her life. I took that across the country with me to grad school and chewed on it for several years.

    After grad school I married a girl who is, to this day, the opposite of kinky. She is a wonderful person, a teacher, and a best friend, but sadly she is not a pervert. I still had the image of the stripper girlfriend in my mind, and figured that if anyone could coax a bad girl out of a good girl, I was the man for the job. She won that bet. I got a finger in her ass a few times, but that’s about the extent of it.

    Even though we never really connected on a sexual level, we have always had a strong spiritual connection. She is the one who got me back into meditation, the one who got me into yoga and chanting. We were both interested in mythology, eastern spirituality, and comparative theology, and grew our marriage around that instead of anal sex and ball gags. She was also a spender and, consciously or not, she seemed intent on undermining my plans for our financial future. In all of these ways, she was instrumental to me learning to let go and to lose control. She taught me about presence, and about the beauty of chaos. These tools have served me well in my kinks.

    Some lessons in letting go were harder for me to learn than others. With hindsight, my wife and I can both see that we were two alphas in a constant struggle for dominance. She was a formidable opponent, and ended up topping me more than I topped her. But I have always been a begrudging, grumbling servant, thereby ensuring that my submission is no fun for anyone involved. She now has a submissive (non-kinky) boyfriend and I have Heather, and we have never been more at ease with each other.

    I got back into kink pretty much by accident. My wife and I were struggling in our marriage, and I was literally sex-starved. I never never never got laid, which makes Joe a grouchy boy. I returned to my increasingly sophisticated and creative forms of masturbation, and we eventually agreed that it was OK for me to look for sex outside of our relationship. (Well, I told her I was. She wasn’t pleased at the time. Another story.)

    I browsed Craigslist, but it seemed like risky behavior. Plus, I was looking for ladies. If I had been into guys I think CL might have worked great for me. I found Fetlife next, and went to my first munch shortly thereafter. I was looking for a FWB situation, but instead I met a bunch of really nice and interesting people. Sex never even really came up, but I felt more comfortable and more at home than I had felt since college. I had found my tribe.

    This is where the kink part of my “nurturing” began, where I picked up the practical skills for topping and re-awakened my natural talent at mind fuckery. I read every BDSM article I could get my hands on, every opinion piece that came across Fetlife. I found an experienced mentor who talked me through the vocabulary and bottomed to me a few times.

    I was so awkward with my first bottom that I must have been adorable. I felt like a baby tiger enthusiastically climbing all over a patient adult, tumbling over my big paws. So many options! Among other things, she introduced me to rope bondage, but she was not interested in taking beatings from me as I ramped up that learning curve. I met another girl, an enthusiastic masochist who introduced me to caning and talked me through the finer points of building a memorable scene. She helped me to consider the arc of a scene, from the warm-up to the big finish. I got plenty of practice topping, and was finally getting so much pussy again that I was forced to refrain from masturbation for supply/demand reasons.

    I met Heather about this time. The first time I saw her I thought she was a snob. She was at a play party with her girlfriend and completely ignored me. We stood right next to each other in the kitchen and she totally missed that I was only pretending to ignore her so I would look cool, and she actually ignored me right back! Her girlfriend seemed like a snob too, but the “mean girls” vibe only fueled the sexiness later when Heather went up on the cross and took a beating from her girlfriend. And then the cunnilingus show on the couch that followed. Mmmm.

    Our paths crossed again later with different results (she was nicer), and the stories of our union have been well chronicled elsewhere on this blog. This last year and a half has brought on a whole new phase of evolution for both of us. In the beginning, I was not looking for a total power exchange relationship. I was looking for tail. Granted, nowadays I simply can’t imagine life without anal-on-demand or a morning without coffee in bed and a wake-up blowjob, but back then I was a different man. I once measured blowjobs by the occurrence, not by the hour.

    I knew M/s was a priority for her, so again I went to the internet to educate myself. The more I read, the more it seemed that everything I had done in my life up to that point had come together into a singularity. I began to understand the psychology of submission, and I was reminded of the ubiquity of power exchange relationships in the world. I began to see all of my relationships as varying degrees of D/s. My fascination with control was reawakened. It felt simultaneously familiar and foreign in this new context.

    Looking back, I now see that seducing consent was (and continues to be) my biggest fetish. I want to be in control, but ultimately Heather has to freely give it to me. The negotiations did not end when we signed the contract; they began. It is unfulfilling to just make Heather do something. It is also inefficient. For me to get off, I need her to buy in. I have to make her want to serve me. Even today, our relationship is a dance of constantly soliciting and granting consent. Heather asks me to do many of the things I do to her, even though she may resist actually desiring what she asks for. And even when she does not ask, after it is over I make her admit that it got her off. That she wanted it.

    I have grown as a person and strive to give back as much as I take from her. As in most “healthy” TPE relationships, our relationship is a lot of responsibility for me. It is not all rainbows and good morning blowjobs for Master. I have to do some work too. Her submission makes me responsible for her well-being, figuratively if not also literally. I do not have to pick up after her or do the emotional heavy lifting for her, but it does mean that I have to structure her experience. It also means that I have a moral obligation to serve as her guide, her mentor, and her source of consequences.

    My willingness to structure her experience demonstrates my commitment to the game, to the dynamic. If I do not make her set goals, if I do not follow up on her progress, and if I fail to punish her enthusiastically when necessary, then I am letting her down. Sometimes she wants to push my boundaries, but she does so to confirm that the boundaries are there as much as she does it to get away with something. Unlike me, she is not a rule breaker. She actually likes rules. Our rules and expectations envelope her in a constant tight hug. Personally, I would find it claustrophobic, but it makes her feel secure. Happiness in slavery.

    Creating expectations and consequences for Heather has also impacted the way I approach my own life. She provided me a safe harbor to regroup and recover, and to set a new course in my life. She loves me and surrenders to me without judgment. As a result, I have matured as an adult, and I (increasingly) hold myself accountable to my own rules (you know how I feel about rules…)

    In a real sense, our power exchange has been a rite of passage for me, the symbolic transition into manhood that I never received as an adolescent. Being an owner is not, as it turns out, all about sodomy and foot massages. It is not just about getting my way anymore. Ownership requires active management and personal reflection. I am regularly called to think about my strengths and weaknesses and to reflect on my best and highest use. I am still a rebellious person, but I feel more balanced in my approach to my own life path.

    To sum up, I guess I have always known I am dominant. The signs were certainly there. My relationship with control and domination has evolved over the years, and it continues to evolve due to my involvement in the kink community. Perhaps most importantly, I have learned that scene planning and toy proficiency are important skills for tops, but they are vehicles for a far deeper journey.

    And finally, the answer to your questions: I trained for a couple of years to tie Heather up good and to beat her hard, but I trained my entire life to own her, to control her, and to use her. And I am still training, so that I may keep her.


     

    A2Z-Logo-C1-300x198


  5. F is for Fart

    June 6, 2014 by Heather Cole

    I know. I know. Ladies don’t fart.

    Right.

    It happens, though. Let’s all admit it and get over it already. The more sex you have in various positions, locations, conditions… the human body makes noises. Our physical selves have reactions to a myriad of stimuli, and it’s natural to respond. Take deep throating, for example. Have I puked on sir? Yup. I don’t advise shoving a cock into the back of your throat after indulging in Taco Tuesday. Just sayin’. I wanted to be good at deep throat which meant practicing enough that I conquered my sensitive gag reflex. Well, a fart is to your anus like puke is to your throat. YES, THAT MAKES TOTAL SENSE.

    I realize that sir and I have reached a place in our relationship where body secretions and noises are par for the course. He takes things in stride, knowing that my body can’t help its responses. And I do the same for him. For heaven sakes, I have to high-five the man when he rips a really good one in bed. So that should mean that I can do the same, right? Well, no.

    Because ladies don’t fart.

    Here’s the hysterical story of one woman who did.

    ~Heather

    **************************************

    Okay, I’m going to dispel Heather’s statement about ladies farting– I don’t fart. Like ever. That’s impossible, you say? Well, it’s not. I’m a southern girl and we’re just not allowed. I’m fairly certain the ability to fart is stripped from our DNA in the womb. I do, however, burp. A lot, and loud. Because I’m fucking classy.

    Moving on…

    Mr. K has a thing about farting in front of me– he’s embarrassed to do it. And in the course of our two year relationship, he’s farted in front of me once. ONE TIME, y’all. But that doesn’t count the nights he’s farted in his sleep.

    Shhhhh, don’t tell him I said that. He would DIE.

    Recently, though, he had an epiphany, if you will. I have hearing loss and Tinnitus in my left ear from way too many years of way too loud rock music. Also, it’s genetic. That means that unless I’m watching your lips move when you speak or if your voice is a certain tone, chances are I’ll miss a lot of what you’re saying. But Mr. K has finally realized the advantage here and has decided he’s going to start farting in front of me– I won’t hear it anyway.

    Nikki

    A2Z-Logo-C1-300x198


  6. E is for ejaculate

    June 5, 2014 by Heather Cole

    Welcome to the Spanking A-Z Blog challenge created by SpankingRomance.com! Yes, we’re late, but that’s completely Nikki’s fault. She had a and all that. You’ve bought it, right? RIGHT? So forgive us for missing A is for Anal, B is for Bisexual, Breasts, and Blowjobs (preferably all together), C is for Cunnilingus, and D is for Dominant Dicks. Just kidding about that last one. Today we’re on E, and ejaculate happens to be one of my most favorite things…

    Let me be more specific. The ejaculate that belongs to the man I love is my favorite thing. When I was dating more than one man, I loved all their jizz. Yup… all y’all. I guess I need an emotional connection to the penis in order to love the ejaculate. (And there goes my career in bukkake.) But once I develop feelings for the penis(es) and the man(men) attached to it(them) I willingly and enthusiastically take that come anyplace/anywhere which explains why I sometimes take it in the eye and in the marble bathroom at the ballet (Holy Echo, Batman).

    Most recently I was in the bathroom with sir… I was on all fours with him behind me. I could tell he was close to orgasm and a tiny part of my mind was anticipating where he’d finish. The rest of me was preoccupied with how euphoric I felt and the sensations that surrounded our joining. Suddenly I felt his fist wrapped in my hair, and he hauled me up on my knees. I gasped as he came, the warmth of his ejaculate coating my back. It felt raw, almost primitive. And I felt completely owned.

    Although we climbed into the shower and he soaped my back, we missed a little bit of ejaculate at the base of my neck. I got to wear it under my clothes for the rest of the day, smiling and remembering the incredible morning.

    Pro Tip: I relish wearing come, but for those of you that don’t, SCRUB it off immediately with soap and water. Otherwise it’s sticking around, and you won’t notice it until it’s dry and flaking off. If that happens to be on your face… well, expect some comments. Just sayin’.

     

    Heather

    *************************************

    Ah, sweet, sweet semen… I mean ejaculate.

    *ahem*

    Studies show that the average man produces anywhere from .01 to 10 milliliters of ejaculate when he comes. If that’s true, Mr. K is above average– WAY above average. And I try my best to swallow it all when he ejaculates in my mouth, but it’s hard. Heh. Hard. He comes so much that it runs down my hand and it gets into my hair. Hell, it even comes out of my nose.

    Come bubbles are totally a thing.

    I love everything about Mr. K’s ejaculate– the smell, taste, feeling, and the sheer volume of it. He loves the taste of it too, especially when I feed it to him from my pussy. He didn’t love it, though, when it got all in his eyes as I sat on his face, and do you know why? Because that shit burns, y’all.

    Nikki

    A2Z-Logo-C1-300x198