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Posts Tagged ‘group sex’

  1. An Almost Threesome

    March 13, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Happy girl kissed by two young boys

     

    Ever since my friend told me about her experience with the pizza delivery man, my fantasies have run rampant with visions of sir tying me up and offering me to a stranger. I’ve had threesomes before, but they had all been F/F/M. I’m usually the wingman to the main couple (a male and a female) in the threesome, and I was comfortable in that role. Being the main dish, so to speak, had never been a fantasy of mine until the delivery man anecdote. That situation changed everything and gave my spankbank a jumpstart.

    I shared my ideas with sir, of course. We talked about my past threesomes and what I enjoyed about them and didn’t. The truth was that I liked orders, and when left to my own devices, I had a tendency to be reticent and observe. So having someone tell me to, “get on that dick” was really helpful to me. I also liked having a plan. Now I knew that sex didn’t need a map to every nitty-gritty detail, but I liked having an overview of activities for the threesome.

    What can I say? I’m a planner.

    My experience with “just let it happen” usually meant that nothing happened, or the orgy you hoped for evolved into something different entirely. None of that was wrong, and sometimes it was awesome when I got the unexpected. When it came to satisfying my personal tastes in the bedroom, though, I wanted someone else to be the boss who gave me orders and who followed a general plan negotiated upon the desires of everyone involved.

    The more sir and I talked about it, the more the fantasy threesome became something we both wanted to try in real life. He wanted to give me the gift of a M/M/F threesome, and I wanted to be his fucktoy to be shared and used. We discussed the details and negotiated the rules. We agreed that: I would be blindfolded the entire time, there would be no double-penetration (I was too nervous to relax enough for anal penetration), and I didn’t want the stranger to kiss my lips (on my face). And sir had a friend that he thought would be perfect as our third, because the friend had had previous threesomes and was sexually adventurous. Our stars had aligned.

    The night arrived and sir left me tied spread-eagle to his bed and blindfolded to answer the door. I had watched him light the cluster of votives on the bedside tables, and the lights had been dimmed before I was blindfolded. Music played quietly near my head, and to calm my nerves, I focused on my breathing. I thought I was managing rather well, all things considered. I could barely make out the soft murmur of voices through the closed bedroom door, and my heartbeat accelerated when I heard the scrape of chairs against the tiled floor of the living room. It was almost time.

    The bonus of being blindfolded was that I could focus on my other senses. I didn’t care if I found the friend attractive, and being unable to see helped reinforce the parameters of my role as a pleasure toy. You don’t ask your toy if they’re in the mood to play. You just play with it. And that’s what I wanted. I offered myself as a fuck toy to my sir, and he had seen fit to share me. I felt thrilled, and simultaneously, like there was a cloud of butterflies trying to break free of my stomach. Gross but true.

    It was sir’s hands that touched me first. He kissed me, and I recognized the feel of his lips and the scent of his skin immediately. I responded eagerly as his hands began to explore my body, and when they hovered over my pussy, I silently begged him to fingerbang me. I wasn’t disappointed. He made me orgasm several times in that position, and then the bed shifted beside me. I heard the clink of chain and recognized the sound immediately. Sir had a flogger in his hands. I struggled against my bonds, knowing that he was going to flog my thighs and pussy. Again, I wasn’t disappointed. There was the rush of air as it was thrown, and I squealed and thrashed as the strands landed on my most sensitive parts. At different moments I wondered when the friend was going to jump in. I thought that since he wasn’t into BDSM per se, that he might wait until we turned from the bondage aspect and toys to straight up sex.

    Sir didn’t give me much of a chance to ponder the situation. He stole my breath as he rode my body, his large hand squeezing my neck. I felt the keen edge of a blade scrape against the curves of my breasts, and then the stinging slap as he brought the edge of his palms across my nipples. I was buffeted by sensation and unable to anticipate any of it. Eventually he untied me and made me sit up. He snapped the leash on my collar and led me stumbling from the bed. I was ordered to bend over and present myself to the stranger, and I did so with my face burning. I couldn’t see the man, of course, but I could feel his proximity. My ass and pussy were on display for his approval, and the fine hairs on my body stood at attention, waiting for the feel of his skin against mine. Every particle of my being waited in anticipation for the stranger to touch me, but again, I was mistaken.

    Sir pushed me to the bed and thrust his cock in my mouth, and I was distracted from the question of our third by a trip down the spiralling rabbit hole of hypnosis. Sir painted a tale of wealthy men at an elite club, where I was the entertainment for the evening. After he brought me out of my trance, he put me on all fours and fucked me from behind until my arms were too fatigued to hold my body in position any longer. Briefly I considered the other man in the room with us, but my thoughts didn’t dwell on him. My body was being pushed to endure, and at that point, I only had enough energy to hold on tight for the ride.

    After sir had finished with me, I lay in a heap on the bed, not even trying to peek around my blindfold to see what the men were doing.

    “Stay,” sir told me. “Good girl.”

    I had moved beyond caring about the stranger. My body was spent and thoroughly used. I had fucked, sucked, and taken all the pain and humiliation that my owner had chosen to lavish upon me. I wanted nothing more than a shower, an extra thick cheeseburger, and a bunch of snuggles. And water. Water would have been nice too.

    I think I might have dozed off, and then sir was beside me again, tucking me into the crook of his arm. I asked if I could take off the blindfold, and he said yes. It took a moment for me to catch my bearings again, and then I inquired about his friend.

    The man had gone home without ever touching me.

    I met the friend the next night, and we all had dinner at a Turkish restaurant. He was humorous and gruff, and despite his reticence the evening before, I liked him thoroughly. I suppose we never know how we’ll act in a situation for certain until we’re actually in that situation. And I would be lying if I didn’t say that I was a teensy bit disappointed that the friend didn’t participate. Apparently we had blown his mind with the stuff we did in bed, and he had only wanted to watch. He told sir later, on an occasion when I wasn’t present, that he had felt like he was watching a sex show. I think that’s a compliment? Sir joked that he should have ordered the friend to fuck me while he went into the other room and watched The Walking Dead.

    Nah.

     


  2. Conversations From the Workplace

    December 20, 2014 by Heather Cole

    Pizza Delivery 2

    I worked with a woman who I would classify as a dominant personality. I had lots of evidence to support my determination as I observed her in action, her confidence skillfully overriding those more hesitant or reluctant. She classified herself as a dominant depending on the  situation, and when we worked together, that’s the side she chose to present most often. She was charming in her absolute certainty of action around the workplace, so you can imagine my delight when she shared her stories about being a submissive. The dichotomy between who she was professionally and who she played with in her personal life appeared to be polar opposites. The more time I spent in the kink community, however, the more I came to understand that these two sides often belonged to the same coin.

    I listened to her submissive tales with wide eyes, my jaw dropping when I saw the photos of the predicaments he placed her in, bound and immobile with her breath restricted. Her Dominant had a wide sadistic streak that made my toes curl with trepidation. My friend, though, embraced this in a way that made sparks fly and my panties drop. I might not have felt compelled to do some of the things they chose to experience, but I sure as fuck loved hearing about them. I was dying to hear about their latest visit together, of course, and this is what she told me.

    They decided to order pizza after work one night. She was at his place, and while they were waiting for the pie to be delivered, they began messing around in the bedroom. One thing led to another and she ended up naked and on all fours. He bound her in place and lowered a blindfold over her eyes.

    The doorbell rang.

    She said she waited, listening for his footsteps to enter the room again. It was quiet. Suddenly a cock pushed at her lips. She pulled back as much as she was able, still unable to see, and tried to make sense of what was happening. She tasted latex and knew there had to be a condom, but she didn’t see why he needed it.

    “I don’t understand,” she said.

    “Be quiet. Do what you’re told,” he replied.

    She did, and she did it willingly. She started fellating the cock, and after a few moments, a second man entered her from behind. She was spit-roasted, caught between her Dominant and a stranger, none of whom she could see. She said it was one of the most erotic things that had ever happened to her. Or maybe that was what was going through my head as I listened.

    The man using her mouth had an orgasm, and after he pulled out, she heard him say, “I have to finish delivering the pizzas.”

    As soon as she told me this, I burst into laughter. It turned out that the pizza delivery man was a college buddy of her Dominant. It was like a Penthouse Forum letter come to life. I have to confess that I felt a flash of envy. Delivery suddenly took on a whole new meaning.

    I wonder if he took that blowjob in lieu of a tip.

     


  3. What Heteroflexible Means for Me

    September 11, 2014 by Nikki Blue

    Black and white photo of two sexy lady in underwear

    There has been a lot of talk about labeling sexuality lately, mine and Mr. K’s in particular. We’re always changing, it seems; evolving. One of the questions we’ve pondered is, “are we considered swingers since our playtime with other couples is really more of a tangled heap of body parts than merely swapping partners?” We’ve also mulled over, “are we true BDSM switches? Or are we simply primal?”

    Who the fuck knows anymore? But more importantly, why does it matter? To be frank, it doesn’t.

    I find the concept of labels baffling. In general, I feel like they’re unfair, tend to dislike them immensely, and work hard to keep them from sticking. In my past, I’ve been hurt by labels, and I rebelled against the stigma as I tried to make them fit the way I wanted, on my terms. Yet in the context of BDSM, I find I need a label to define who I am; the things I like.

    See? Confusing.

    It’s no secret that I’ve had sex with women. I quite enjoy it, and people who know this about me are quick to assume I’m bisexual. Maybe I am, by all intents and purposes, but for my comfort, the label is too cut and dry. It just doesn’t fit well. I don’t have the desire to date women, nor am I sexually attracted to them. However, given the opportunity, I will fuck a lovely lady in a hot minute, but only if Mr. K’s supervisory penis is within grasping distance. When I explain this, I’m usually met with lots of wide-eyed blinking, and when I label myself as heteroflexible, because ‘sexually fluid’ isn’t one, I see more of the whole deer in the headlights thing. It’s really not that complicated, though. Well, in my mind it’s not.

    Wikipedia defines heteroflexibilty as a sexual orientation or situational sexual behavior characterized by minimal homosexuality activity despite being primarily heterosexual. This differs from bisexuality.

    For the majority of people, I think defining their sexuality is relatively easy. They either distinctly identify with a certain sexual orientation or they don’t. It can be pretty basic stuff, but for those of us who flow over the lines, labeling identity can be a complex choice and widely misunderstood.

    When I began writing this blog post nearly two weeks ago… Oh stop. Have you not read The Method to My Madness? It ain’t pretty, y’all. Anyway, I had the idea that explaining my sexual fluidity would be easy peasy. And it was when I started, but then it took all kinds of turns into how the defined lines of different orientations tend to blur for some kinksters, in my opinion. Before I knew it, I found myself constructing a picket sign with “Can’t we all just get along sexually?” written in sparkly glitter.

    Clearly, I’d drifted way off course.

    To put it simply: I like to fuck women, but I need Mr. K’s penis close by or inside me to do so…I am the dominant one… I feel submissive…

    Wait, what?

    And the course shifted again. I didn’t even see it coming, but there it was in bright blue neon flashing lights with a purple outline. It was so bright, so sharp it blew up because the revelation was that powerful. Like Dirk Diggler in Boogie Nights.

    Oh, stop judging me. Like I would ever pass on an opening like that one.

    But what the fuck? When I feel submissive, it’s only to Mr. K, not to the women we play with. I am the dominant one, dammit!

    <stamps foot>

    Seriously, though. I’m not sure why I’m naturally dominant when it comes to women, but I am. And honestly, I don’t know how I would respond to a woman who wasn’t sexually submissive.

    Would I fight for dominance over her? I tend to think I would, and Mr. K agrees.

    “Unless I told you otherwise,” he said.

    I saw what he did there, which led me to believe he’s known this about me for some time.

    Well played, Mr. K. Well played indeed.

    The thing is, I’ve always been the dominant one with the sexy ladies we’ve played with. Hell, their husbands too, for that matter. I’ve seen the recognition in the way they look at me, felt it grow thick in the air between us, and I’ve fed heartily from the power of it. Mr. K has even said witnessing the control I have in those moments is what gets him off when we play with other couples.

    God, I love that man.

    When I have my wicked way with a woman, though, I don’t dare to climb inside of her head, taking great pleasure in seducing her thoughts with my words in the way I do Mr. K’s. That need doesn’t surface. What I give her is purely physical, but what I take runs very deep.

    The intense desire to please him blooms inside me under his watchful eye. I feel the heat of his gaze memorizing every flick of my tongue between soft, slick folds, every plunge of my fingers into the depths of her wanton mound as I bring her to orgasm. He is proud of me; proud that I am his. I sense his love for me, his pride. It swells– takes my breath and washes over me. It’s an amazing high.

    With all of that having been said, I’m not any one thing, sexually speaking. I flow freely in the moment, doing what feels right, whatever it may be. I am THAT girlfriend– the best one ever, according to Mr. K. He allows my sexual fluidity, encourages it and that, my friends, I wouldn’t have any other way.


  4. Swinger House Party

    July 8, 2014 by Nikki Blue

    The tiki torch in the front yard told us we were in the right place. Admittedly, I was a little nervous about the swinger party. It was our first and I had no idea what to expect. Mr. K was anxious too, but his worry differed from mine. Again, he expressed his fear of not being able to get hard in a group setting. Again, I laughed, blowing out a breath when he took my hand as we walked toward the front door. He seemed to sense the familiar flutter of wings as the butterflies flitted around in my stomach and he worked to calm them, reminding me that, as always, we would leave if the right vibe wasn’t there or if we didn’t connect with prospective playmates. He didn’t need to say it out loud for me to know it was true, but there were times when hearing the words gave that little reassuring boost and this was one of those moments. Like he knew it would, his affirmation settled my unease, and by the time we stepped over the threshold into our first house party, I was sure and tall in my stilettos. Seriously. I’m like 5’10” in heels. Swear.

    The hosts, J & M, were super gracious, greeting us with shots of something strong and a tour of their home. Early in the night, the ambiance was what you would expect to find at any friendly gathering. There was food, booze, music, and porn. Okay, so maybe porn playing on a big-screen TV isn’t the norm at just any kind of party. Nor was the supposed “down to fuck” agenda of the attendees. But that was where we were confused, because as the night crept on, no one was fucking. They weren’t even making out. We questioned whether or not we were really at the right place, more than once asking each other why aren’t people fucking? WHERE IS ALL THE FUCKING?

    We rolled with the flow of the evening, drinking more shots of something high on the proof scale while we mingled and chatted about life in general with other swingers we’d met. Some poked fun at my southern twang while my feet ached and a trickle of sweat rolled down my back. I gathered my hair on the back of my head, hoping for some sort of air circulation to cool me down a little. It was hot up in there, y’all. Mr. K tried to help, exposing my barely covered ass to the roomful of people behind us as he lifted my dress. Now that I say that, though, I wonder what his motive truly was– cool me down or show the ass he worships.

    Still, no one was getting busy, and the the bulge in Mr. K’s pants told me whether it was alone or with others, he was ready to fuck.

    I was aware of trailing eyes as Mr. K led me up the stairs to the master bedroom, and with the door ajar, he slid my panties down from underneath my dress and off over my heels, pushing me back on to the bed. As he opened my legs wide, I noticed others watching from the hallway. I found the idea of being watched incredibly hot, like porn, but without the cheesy background music. I moaned loudly, gripping the bedding I lay on top of when my orgasm ripped through me. When I opened my eyes, I found J standing beside the bed, watching as I came again. Mr. K asked if he would like to taste my pussy, and when I gave my permission, J dropped to his knees just as Mr. K shoved his hard cock into my waiting mouth. Being both devoured and used was an amazing feeling.

    After J made me come, we exchanged thank you’s as he left the room, giving Mr. K and me the time we needed to regroup. He held me close, looking at me with limitless love in his eyes before he kissed me deeply. I relished the moment of intimacy before he stuffed my panties into his pants pocket while I checked myself in the bathroom mirror, doing what little I could with my sex hair.

    We wandered back downstairs as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened and for us, I suppose, it hadn’t. We sat on the sofa with W and L, a couple we’d chatted with earlier. Mr. K and I both found L super sexy and knew right away we wanted to fuck her, but she was confused– and a little drunk –about my sexuality. She couldn’t tell if I was into women.

    Here’s the thing– I love women. I love the soft curves and the taste of their bodies. I love making them writhe with pleasure, but I don’t consider myself to be bisexual. I am, however, heteroflexible, and what that means for me is that I need Mr. K’s supervisory penis in the room. It wasn’t the time or the place to explain my sexuality to her, though, so I leaned over Mr. K’s lap and kissed her lovely mouth. I didn’t need any prodding to kiss her and I didn’t do it to please Mr. K. I kissed her because I wanted to taste her soft lips; I kissed her because I wanted to fuck her.

    Mr. K said it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen; even hotter than what I did to her upstairs a few moments later. He confessed he will be masturbating to the memory of it for a while to come. Heh. Come.

    As we thanked our gracious hosts for an amazing night, I couldn’t help but giggle at M when she pouted that she didn’t get to at least see my boobs. So I showed them to her in the middle of their living room, because really, how could I not?

    After Mr. K fed me the best burger and chocolate shake I’d ever had, we showered and snuggled into our bed. We made love and held each other close, talking about the events that had taken place during our first swinger party. He expressed his powerful love for me, again saying I’m the best girlfriend ever because I am, obviously.


  5. Bangin’ Basics: A Guide to Group Sex

    April 10, 2014 by Nikki Blue

    When Mr. K and I added swinging to our sex resume, we were excruciatingly specific about our wants, limits, and expectations. Simply fucking another man and woman in a full swap, different room– or same room –scenario held no appeal to us. We wanted a tangled pile of body parts, shared orgasms, and a pleasurable daisy chain of sorts. And what we needed was to always touch and be a part of whatever it was the other was experiencing in that moment. And because our wants and needs are what they are, “dating” other couples can be tricky. Setting out to mesh two personalities together is challenging enough, but working with four of them can be extra sticky. Heh. Extra sticky… Get it?

    <ahem>

    With that having been said, swinging is really no different from dating. In fact, it’s the same thing. Even with another couple, you will still have first date jitters, naked blunders, and sometimes, people just don’t click. And that’s okay. All of it. There are no hard and fast rules when it comes to swinging. However, if you are taking the sexy skillset into consideration, there are a few words of advice I would like to offer. Of course, it should all be taken with a squeeze of lube. And a condom. Definitely a condom.

    1. Having snacks and beverages of some sort on hand is a super fantastic idea for that sustenance intermission from group sexy-time, and trust me, you will need one. But, do NOT refer to a pause in the action as a “first quarter food break.” Or any sports related analogy, for that matter. And for fuck’s sake, let the woman eat without her boob in your mouth. It’s just weird.

    2. Orally sharing your man’s cock can be loads of fun, but it’s a difficult concept for some to grasp, apparently. And while I understand not all men are fluent in the language of cock, if you consistently try to stick your tongue into my mouth while I am enjoying Mr. K’s wonderfully hard cock, I will reach a point where I shove your mouth on it until you gag. Probably.

    3. If you play with a couple you have met in an online community for swingers, chances are they’ve taken the time to write a detailed profile, listing their experiences and fantasies. The point of it is to establish common ground and mutual desires. It’s not to be treated like a sexual bucket list. Remember, sugarbritches, Rome wasn’t built in a day, and the amount of trust required for double penetration isn’t either.

    4. Respect everyone’s limits. When a couple says ALL anal play is off limits, it’s not an invitation to push it. Whether it’s sneaking licks of her asshole or trying to shove an unwelcome vibrator up his ass, stop that shit.

    5. It seems some who enjoy the lifestyle don’t care to fuck their respective partners during group grope sessions. And that’s fine. But others, like Mr. K and myself, immensely enjoy coming together often throughout playtime. Pun totally intended. If you’re not into that, though, if you are full swap, different room players, disclose that information upfront so prospective playmates can decide whether or not you are a good fit for them.

    6. When a couple says it’s time for them to leave, don’t beg for just two more minutes. It’s kind of creepy. And when your partner whispers “fake an orgasm” into your ear, flex those acting skills, baby, and go for the gold.

    7. And finally, we all know how expensive sexy things are, so when redressing at the end of the night, double check to make sure the lacy, black panties are the same ones you walked in with. Just sayin’.

    Also, on a first date, I strongly caution against inviting your new friends for a sleepover. As fun as it may sound to frolick into the wee hours of the night, it’s just too much way too fucking soon. Keep in mind that they will probably need time alone to reconnect with each other, reflect on the evening, and re-hydrate with a big-ass Coke with lots of ice from the 7-11, erm, maybe.


  6. Dear Nikki: Sexy Time Safety

    February 28, 2014 by Nikki Blue

    Nikki,

    Just a note to ooh and ahh about your blog. I imagine sitting around a kitchen table with you and Heather over a bottle of wine while enjoying (and admittedly being incredibly turned on by) your tales in person. A room filled with laughter and suggestive lip chewing. How fun to have a girlfriend to share your adventures with. Know how grateful I am you two so candidly share via the blog.

    While I have a zillion questions may I ask just one? When you and Mr. K play with others you have referenced condoms. What ground rules did you two establish for ‘protection’ when mingling?

    Thanks in advance!
    Rachel

     

    Dear Rachel,

    Heather and I love, love, LOVE ooh’s and ahh’s! Truthfully, they make us downright giddy. And having a bestie to share the intimate and explicit details of sexy time is totally swoon worthy. Hell, Heather knows the inside of my vagina almost as well as Mr. K. There was even a time when she referred to my updates as “The Vagina Report.” Kind of like Inside Story, but way juicier.

    If you’ve read Vagina Antics for any length of time you know I’m super serious when it comes to safe sex. And because my vag is the delicate flower that it is, arriving at the decision to play with another couple made for bumpier travels than agreeing to share another woman. But the ground rules for protection in both scenarios were simple: No condoms, No penetration.

    For us, the use of condoms when playing with a couple safeguards against more than the possibility of infections. It protects the implicit trust and incredible intimacy we share in private. And that’s something neither of us are willing to trade for a bareback romp with others.

    Fingers, however, are a little more challenging to control. They can slide out of one orifice and into another before it’s realized, so if you’re terribly paranoid like me, I suggest keeping a handy-dandy pack of antibacterial wipes next to the bed for quick swipes in between.

    The use of condoms greatly reduce the risk of acquiring an STI/STD, but HPV and HSV are spread through skin-to-skin contact. This means that even if you’re nekkid dry humping or getting down with some super hot mutual masturbation, HPV and HSV can be transmitted if present. And they don’t always present symptoms which is why protection is an absolute must when expanding your play circle.

    When it comes to opening your bed up to another couple, never assume they are infection/disease free because they’re married or in a long-term relationship. And don’t wait for them to volunteer the information. Step up and ask. It really is that simple. But even then– unless you exchange test results –you only have them at their word. So unless they’re swearing on a bible in front of a Supreme Court judge, protect yourself. Play smart and play it safe.

    Hugs,
    Nikki


  7. Game Night

    January 14, 2014 by Heather Cole

    The great thing about having kinky friends is that many sexual things are possible. There are many instances, however, when sex doesn’t happen and we do completely traditional things like playing board games. When I was asked to host Game Night, I anticipated mostly wholesome behavior until I received a reminder text from the lovely Ms A that none of us should wear “granny panties.” If I had any doubts after that, sir dispelled them when he told me not to wear any panties at all. Being the good sex slave that I am, I complied and wore a black cotton minidress, pink argyle knee socks, and nothing else.

    The evening began innocently enough. Wine flowed and pizza was served. We talked about regular things like air travel, microbrews, and how old we were when we bought our first vibrators. Then at the urging of his girlfriend, DS shed his pants to show us his fabulous flame covered briefs. Everyone was impressed by his underwear and its well-endowed contents. You know you’re with a good group of people when even the hetero men feel comfortable complimenting another dude on the size of his dick. I was inundated with a feeling of goodwill  and camaraderie. Disrobing seemed to dissolve any restraint in the evening, and from that point on things got raunchier.

    I stood to clear the table and sir beckoned me closer. I didn’t need to ask what he wanted, because I could see the desire on his face. My heartbeat raced. His hand slipped between my legs, and I felt his fingers push inside me. I was already slick with excitement, the titillating view of a half-naked man fueling my fires. Sir’s fingers expertly swirled inside me, and I was ready to orgasm.

    “Announce what you’re doing, slave,” he said.

    “I’m coming,” I gasped as my muscles clenched around his hand. My orgasm caught everyone’s attention, and I was overcome by pleasure and embarrassment. I stared down at the table until I could pull myself together enough to continue clearing the table.

    Sir said that I no longer blush when he makes me orgasm in front of people. Maybe my embarrassment didn’t show on the outside, but part of me remained mortified that I indulged in such exhibitionism. I felt this weird cycle of excitement, embarrassment, shame, and joy. Part of me was horrified that I got off on other people watching me come, yet another part of me was exultant. It was an uncomfortable way to be sometimes, but when I was surrounded by kinky friends, I felt less appalled.

    When Ms. A came into the kitchen with dirty plates, I had to kiss her. She wanted to talk about scheduling our next date, and I just wanted to feel her lips on mine. She was too sexy not to touch, and I wound my hand in her hair to press her closer. If sir hadn’t reminded me of my task, I think I would have spent an hour exploring the sweetness of her lips and voluptuous breasts.

    The next couple of hours were spent playing Scribblish and then Jenga. The tequila flowed, and we laughed until we cried over the ridiculous pictures we had drawn. When the Jenga tower was assembled, I groaned out loud. Two margaritas were going to inhibit my coordination considerably, so sir gave me the option of blowing him under the table. As much as the idea appealed to me, I didn’t want to miss out on the gaming fun. When it was my turn to tease a block from the stack, I felt someone’s hand ease between my thighs. I wanted to say something witty about an unfair distraction, but someone’s cool fingers were already caressing the lips of my pussy. The fingers had a delicate touch that could only belong to Ms. A. I can’t explain how I managed to get the block free without tipping the entire thing as I orgasmed, but I did it. There really needs to be an award for that kind of tipsy coordination. Or a badge. I’ll add it to my dirty Girl Scout sash right next to my deep-throat award.

    I had been made to orgasm at least five times by the time Kuma suggested that we take a break, and it felt like the perfect segue to my living room floor where I leaned against sir as the beautiful Ms. A knelt between my legs. There was no unanimous vote that the toys would come out and cocks would be sucked. It just kind of happened. Ms. A licked and sucked my clit until I came, her peppermint lip gloss making me tingle in all the right places. I writhed on the floor surrounded by some of my dearest friends, my orgasm made more intense because of the added element of voyeurism. The tableau was seared into my brain. The sturdy warmth of sir behind me, holding and supporting me, the lustful magic of Ms. A’s amazing oral skills, and her creamy pale skin spread before me like some pagan goddess. Directly behind her sat our friends and lovers, watching and enjoying our sexual offering. It was a heady concoction.

    Ms. A’s clothes came off, and then sir practiced some florentine flogging on her. The flogging spurred her toward orgasm. She fell into the arms of her partner, and he helped her finish with his fingers on her clit. I had the opportunity to watch two people connect in a cloud of lust and love. I felt incredibly lucky to have friends who were comfortable sharing facets of their connection with me, because it served to feed and foster my own.

    DS then got his cock sucked by his girlfriend which was super hot because from my vantage point I could admire her shapely ass plus expert blowjob technique. This in turn seemed to inspire sir, because he motioned me over to his chair. He nodded at the fly of his pants, and I began to unbutton them. I took him into my mouth as the conversation continued around me. He was incredibly hard, and I relished pushing him deep into my throat. I heard the words “daisy chain” and then Ms. A’s fingers found my labia again. My mouth remained on sir as she played with my body, an orgasm building rapidly inside me. I shouted around sir’s cock when I came, and it took all my concentration not to dissolve into a puddle at his feet. The generosity of my loved ones continued to astound me.

    We talked until late, reluctant to end the fun-filled evening. After the last of our friends had left, I was ready to fall into a sound sleep. I’d had more orgasms than I could count. As I snuggled into sir’s arms, he told me to sleep and that he would wake me up in a couple hours to slake his desires. He whispered in my ear as I drifted off, telling me how incredibly sexy it was to hold me and watch as Ms. A pleasured me. I burrowed deeper into his arms, and I had just enough presence of mind to smile and thank him for the amazing experience.

    “Such a good girl,” he said, and I fell asleep.

     


  8. Heather and the Gangbang

    December 16, 2013 by Heather Cole

    I sat on a thick oriental rug and watched the other masters and slaves from beneath my lashes. I felt shy, butterflies of anxiety erupting in my gut. I had been told to sit and wait for my master, so that’s exactly what I did. I didn’t recognize the faces around me, and I felt too awkward to approach any of them and start a conversation. They sat or stood, the chairs grouped in a loose semicircle at the center of the room. I stared at the pattern on the rug and tried not to fidget.

    Finally sir strode over to me with a smile on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a mischievous look. He pulled me to my feet and into his arms, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like soap and sandalwood, and part of me calmed at the familiar scents.

    “I love you,” he murmured into my ear. “You are my treasure. Do you know this?” One of his hands grabbed a handful of hair and pulled my head back so he could see my eyes.

    “Yes, sir,” I replied, wincing slightly at the small pain.

    “Good girl.”

    He laced my fingers with his and led me to a sage green couch at the side of the room. I hadn’t noticed it before, but its wide cushions looked more like a bed than a couch you would see in a living room. My butterflies came back with a rush when I saw the dark leather circles of my cuffs resting on top of it. I turned to sir with a questioning look as he pulled out a silk blindfold from his pocket.

    “Do you trust me?” he asked. I nodded wordlessly, and I felt the cool material smooth down my forehead and over my eyes. “Do you trust me to make all your fantasies come true?”

    I could feel my lips tremble as I tried to form the response he required. Some of my dark fantasies should not have been forged into reality, because they often strayed into that gray area of consensual non-consent with strangers. But I couldn’t think of what to say other than ‘yes.’ There were no stipulations made with sir. I either trusted him with every ounce of being or I didn’t trust him at all.

    I couldn’t see the other masters and slaves in the room, but I heard their movements. I recognized the heavy fall of a flogger against tender flesh and the wet slapping noises of rough sex. There were moans and cries, and even though I wanted to see, I was also grateful for the blindfold. That way I wouldn’t know who was watching, and I could focus completely on my owner.

    Sir stripped me and then gently pushed me back on to the couch. I felt the warm slip of cotton rope around my wrists and ankles, and sir eased me into a spreadeagled position. I felt completely exposed, my flesh rippling into goosebumps. I also realized that I was growing wet between my legs with anticipation. I squirmed against my bonds, trying to sense where sir was. In that moment all I wanted was him inside me, claiming me and easing away my nervousness.

    I felt movement beside me and then the familiar weight of my master. His cock slid inside me, and I eagerly raised my hips to take all of him. I felt the beginnings of an orgasm as he thrust inside me, but the couch dipped again, and I felt another set of hands on my body. The rope was loosened, and someone pushed me so that I was on my side. Sir was still inside me, but he had changed position too and my leg was now held up in the air. I stiffened when I felt a second cock push against my anus. I gasped at the size, and my master’s voice was in my ear.

    “His cock is huge, and you’re going to take all of it. It’s going to feel amazing.”

    He was right. My misgivings about the man’s size vanished as soon as sir said the words. He told me I would love it, and my body obeyed even as my thoughts struggled to keep pace. I was safe with sir. He would protect me even as he pushed my boundaries. Silently I embraced the new intrusion with each movement of pleasure. The man’s size stretched me open in a way I had never experienced before, and I was awash in a mixture of shame and excitement and unadulterated lust. As I was impaled by sir and the stranger, a feeling of ecstasy washed through me. I held my position as well as I could, relishing the double penetration with my quivering body. I cried out when the orgasm took me, my fingernails digging into my palms.

    Suddenly there was a hand in my hair, and my head was pulled back. I felt the blunt head of a third cock push past my lips, and instinctively I opened my mouth to accommodate it. I was overwhelmed by the sensations overloading my body. The cock reached into the back of my throat, and my thoughts clicked off. I was nothing but a body caught and stretched like a butterfly pinned to a mat. I came again and again, my moans swallowed as the cock moved in and out of my mouth. The man above me grunted as he came, and then the man in my ass ejaculated. I swallowed, thinking that we would stop, but two more men took their places. As my master whispered encouragements and maintained his steady rhythm, I relished the feeling of submitting to him and being used as his pleasure toy. The sensations were intense, hedonistic indulgence overriding all logical thought.

    I was still licking cum from my lips when I felt the two men leave my side, and then sir was untying the ropes. I frowned when sir told me to keep my eyes closed as he removed the blindfold. Sir hadn’t finished, and he was the one that I wanted to please the most. But I felt like I had no bones. I was a puddle of sweat and sex, and my body ached from being penetrated. Even the back of my throat felt raw. Sir scooped up my sore body and moved to the edge of the couch and grabbed my hair.

    “On your knees at the edge of the couch.”

    I knew better than to protest, and part of me wanted to finish him. Master had gone to the trouble of making this fantasy come true for me. The least I could do was repay him with an orgasm. I felt my way to the floor and knelt between his legs. No further instructions were needed as I found the sensitive flesh between his thighs. He used my mouth roughly, always one hand twisted through my hair, angling my head in the way he preferred. Saliva dripped from my chin to the floor, my excitement growing at the sounds of sir’s pleasure. I hoped he would finish on my face, and the act was all the more precious because it was a rare event. With a final guttural yell, sir pulled out of my mouth and came on my face. I smiled as the sticky, wet cream covered my nose and cheeks and dripped down on my chest. I waited, still grinning, for the command that I could open my eyes and get up.

    “As I count backwards from 5, you will gradually awaken from your trance. You will remember everything we’ve done here, every word and every sensation. 5… 4… 3… opening your eyes and beginning to stir… 2… 1… fully awake.”

    I opened my eyes to find myself kneeling beside my bed in a pool of saliva and cum. There was no room full of masters and slaves, no rope or strangers penetrating my body. It was just me and sir and my vivid subconscious. I looked up at him, amazed and slightly chagrined.

    “I figured that a hypnosis gangbang would be as much fun as the real thing without the added hassle of finding and organizing the participants or the risk of contracting an STI,” he said.

    I’m sure I responded, but what came out was probably a stuttering garbled mess. I was in shock. Good shock, but shock nonetheless.

    As we cleaned up and eventually climbed back into bed to snuggle, I went over and over the events of the evening. It felt like the gangbang had physically happened and I had experienced a triple penetration. I think I said “I can’t believe it” a million times before sir shushed me to sleep. That night is now tinged with a dreamlike quality, but every part of me believes it happened. In fact, my ass was sore the next day like it had been stretched to accommodate a very well-endowed man. It was the most amazing mindfuck I had ever experienced.

    I wonder where we’re going next.

     


  9. Fantasy Becomes Reality: A Night of Swinging

    December 6, 2013 by Nikki Blue

    I’m not going to say how many times I’ve rewritten the beginning of this blog post. I’ve begun posts of the past with those exact words way too many times already. I will, however, say the start of one of the many drafts of this blog post explained what a sexually adventurous couple Mr. K and I are, and how we’re willing to try just about anything together. In one of the drafts, I even broke down the definition of swingers and the variations of swapping. But Heather struck it with her mighty red pen.

    As usual, though, her reasons were dead-on. I needed to write about what Mr. K and I went through as we arrived at the decision to open ourselves to playing with another couple. I didn’t need to give a vocabulary lesson. It didn’t matter how funny “Downtown to Full Swap Town” was; it was unnecessary.

    Mr. K and I longed to frolic together in the juiciness of group sex, but neither one of us had the desire for me to fuck another man. I couldn’t imagine it. So with limits in place– no anal with another, and I needed to be the one to make him orgasm –our unicorn quest began.

    The hunt was fruitless, yielding one epic fail after another and as frustration mounted, we toyed with the idea of opening ourselves to playtime with another couple. But we weren’t certain it was the right thing for us and we forged ahead in our search. As we did, our craving to kiss with a willing unicorn between us shifted. Mr. K wanted the pleasure of laying underneath me, licking my pussy and my juices from another man’s cock. I found the fantasy incredibly arousing and I began to want it, along with much more. I realized whether it was a woman, a man, or both we got busy with, our connection would be solid.

    Deciding it was time to open ourselves to another couple, we searched the swinger networking site for profiles similar to our own. J & B’s was well written and straightforward, so we sent them a note to say hello. To our delight, they were interested and our emails progressed to naughty photographs, and flirty text messages. We discussed safe sex and I pulled anal from the table. Anal play is incredibly special to us and the one thing Mr. K and I weren’t willing to share with others.

    As we made plans to meet them later in the week, Mr. K began to worry. He was afraid my need to please him was shadowing my judgment, that getting naked with another couple wasn’t something I wanted. But I calmed his fears, telling him I would never fuck another just to make him happy. It’s not my nature. Fucking another was something I would do WITH him and I would enjoy every delicious moment.

    I’m pretty sure Best Girlfriend Ever was the next thing out of his mouth, because yeah, I totally am. I have a t-shirt that says so.

    The hotel bar was situated next to the marina and the salty night air blew around us as we got to know each other better. We clicked right away and after a couple of drinks, Mr. K and I followed them hand in hand to their room.

    “What if I can’t get hard?” he asked.

    I laughed. “Yeah, THAT’S not going to be a problem.”

    I sat my toy bag on the chair next to the table. Condoms were laid out neatly on a small silver tray. The packages were colorful, reminding me of a sleeve of Starburst candies. My sensitive vag clenched at the sight of them, but being being the planner I am, I had my own supply. Latex-free, of course.

    We lounged on their bed for awhile. We were fully clothed as we chatted about B’s breast implants, the surgery I would have to replace mine, and how we met our partners. Mr. K rubbed my leg as I rattled on incessantly, wondering who would be the first to disrobe; who would make the first move.

    Admittedly, I was a little nervous and the reality of it caught me by surprise. Why was I anxious? I’d had group sex before, but it was unplanned, hurried, and selfish. I knew the past would pale in comparison to what lay ahead of us. It was also long ago, during a time when I rebelled against myself as I struggled to breathe under weighty confusion. But what struck me the hardest about the past was I wasn’t with someone I loved.

    The doubts in my life had been gone for a long time. I was confident in who I was and in Mr. K’s love for me. I knew there would be no judgment however we chose to play, and it was something we would do together.

    Mr. K pulled me from the bed and undressed me.

    “I love you,” he said, as he held my face in his hands.

    “I know. I love you too.” I smiled and turned to B, untying her dress from around her neck.

    She lay naked against J’s chest on the bed. I ran my hands along her thighs as I parted them, teasing her clit with my tongue. Mr. K dropped to his knees behind me and buried his face in my pussy, quickly making me come.

    What followed can only be described as a whirlwind of tongues, fingers, fucking, blowjobs, and orgasms. J and I sucked Mr. K’s cock while B rode his face, and in the most amazing daisy chain, I fucked B with my strap-on while Mr. K fucked me from behind as J stood on the bed above us with his cock in Mr. K’s mouth. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

    Throughout the evening, Mr. K pulled me to him and fucked me, giving me the kisses I needed while telling me he loved me. Those moments reassured us both. And the beautiful thing about it all was regardless of who was fucking or sucking who, my hand never left his body. Even if it was only his leg I touched as B rode his cock and J fucked me, I had the connection I needed to feel grounded and safe.

    After hugs, kisses, and promises to stay in touch with our new friends, Mr. K was unusually quiet as we walked to the car. I panicked, immediately assuming the worst. Had we made a mistake? Was he not okay with me having fucked another man after all? What about the orgasms I’d been given? The questions exploded in my brain like an atomic bomb.

    “Are you alright with everything that happened?”

    “Yeah, yeah. I’m good,” he said, as he smiled, wrapping his arms around me. “I promise.”

    I breathed a sigh of relief, his arms confirming his love.

    We relived the details as we drove to a very late dinner. I confessed I felt a small pang when B fucked his face, but I realized even though his sounds of pleasure were the same, they were totally different because it wasn’t me. I felt like a silly high school girl as the jealousy dissipated quickly. He revealed he felt a momentary stab too, but like mine, it passed swiftly and they didn’t take away from the amazing things we shared. We were allowed those flashes because we’re human and quite honestly, knowing we both had them made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

    As incredible as the night was, we agreed it was something we couldn’t do very often. Not because of regret, because there was none. We were just drained; physically, mentally, and emotionally. Plus, my delicate vag was screaming WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME, WOMAN?! from the use of lube and latex condoms.

    Despite the exhaustion, we needed to feel, smell, and taste each other again before we slept. We climbed into the shower in our hotel room, and after the scent and fingerprints of others disappeared down the drain, we fell into bed, the night drawing to a close exactly as we’d planned. Mr. K held me close and we made love skin to skin. He told me how much he loved me and kissed me deeply, giving me the final, most glorious orgasm of the night.


  10. A Field Guide to Hunting Unicorns

    May 2, 2013 by Nikki Blue

    According to the Urban Dictionary, a unicorn is a bisexual person, usually (though not always) female, who is willing to join an existing couple, often with the presumption that this person will date and become sexually involved with both members of that couple, and not demand anything or do anything which might cause problems or inconvenience to that couple. They are mystical, magical creatures, and the pursuit and capture of them can be quite tricky. For Mr. K and I it has been a time consuming and incredibly frustrating safari, and it seems we’ve encountered one disappointing let down after another. There were times we considered giving up the search for a unicorn altogether, questioning the legitimacy of their existence.

    We’ve been hunting them for awhile now and contrary to popular belief, most unicorns don’t have tell-tale marks separating them from the masses, making them easy to spot. They’re not covered in glitter, and they don’t wear pink leather chaps. They are masters in the art of camouflage, and they blend in well among soccer moms and business professionals. There are also different species of unicorns and it’s impossible to distinguish where they fall until you’ve already invested a significant amount of energy into learning their manner. Are they a true unicorn whose knowledge of the Unicorn Handbook is not to be trifled with? Or are they newbies with a holier-than-thou attitude when answering your sext?

    Mr. K longs to experience the magical properties of a unicorn. He wants to pet one and play with it and watch it bow its silky nose in deference to my kick-ass unicorn domination skills. Although I want to fulfill the fantasy for him, sifting through all of the fakes and wingnuts is exhausting, y’all. So, if you’re considering your own quest for the elusive unicorn, the following may save you wasted effort and a tremendous headache. Oh, and bulk up on patience because you’re gonna need it. LOTS of it.

     

    • Unicorns see in magic color vision, so when meeting one for the first time it’s best to wear colors that hold their attention, such as pinks and purples.

     

    • Unicorns love Skittles because they’re the colors of rainbows, obviously.

     

    • Some unicorns are attracted to shiny things and designer bags.

     

    • If a unicorn makes excuses about meeting face to face after sexy emails have been exchanged, or disappears altogether, they’re a dude.

     

    • When the unicorn’s cell phone in their profile photo has an antenna, odds are good that the selfie is WAY outdated.

     

    • Tasers work best in the apprehension of unicorns. They’re more discreet and less bloody than crossbows or so I’ve heard.

     

    • If a unicorn asks to move into your home as a nanny to your kids before ever setting eyes on you, she may have inhaled too much glitter over the years and is now cray-cray.

     

    • If a unicorn says that all play must be bareback because of her “allergy to all condoms,” RUN.

     

     
    Last week, I had a lunch date with a unicorn Mr. K and I recently met on a swinger site. We made arrangements to meet at a neutral location and I wore white jeans because hello, white jeans. And because the myth of unicorns states that they’re lured into captivity by a virgin dressed in white.

    Virgin… *snort*

    Anyway, I chatted with the unicorn about failed marriages, kids, careers and alligators. Her confession that she likes rope play surprised me and I might’ve purred when she said she is submissive in the bedroom. She was, however, quick to point out that she doesn’t like pain, which was a broad statement that I felt needed clarification. Does she consider nipple clamps pain? Spanking? Tit slapping? Being tied to a chair and forced to watch Twilight repeatedly?

    “Define pain.”

    She laughed when I asked, saying all of the above were acceptable except for anything that would leave marks. And sparkly vampires. She’s funny, she has quite a bit of swinging experience, and seems to have a firm grasp of unicorn-ing. She also understands that when Mr. K is in town our time together is precious and she respects that. She is looking forward to meeting us both for a drink to see if they click too.

    The perfect unicorn doesn’t exist (except for my soulmateclone), and the idea of a perfect one is an unattainable fantasy. The right unicorn is a reality, though, and both the hunter and the unicorn should be selective, taking the necessary time to make sure the situation is a good fit for all involved. Is this unicorn the right one for us? Only time will tell for sure, but right now we’re waiting patiently with our family sized bag of Skittles, and when all systems are go, we’ll cast our magic net made from pure fairy dust. Organic, of course.