Saturday afternoon on a week where I already have two notches on my bedpost. Yes, I’m greedy. Insatiable. But sometimes when it comes together like this, I can’t turn it down. Like buses.
We stalk around each other like animals, and then he grabs me, kissing my neck and holding my chin. He pulls off my trousers and sticks his finger slowly inside me. And then his lips, soon he’s pulling my legs wide apart and eating me. This is his passion; his forte. I don’t even need to touch his cock.
We shift to a 69 and I whimper as his beard brushes my pussy lips. I swallow down his cock whole and he jumps, pushing his length further down my throat. He can’t take too much of that so I stop and gasp for breath while he slurps greedily.
He pushes his cock inside, teasing me and bashing it against my cunt. It always drives me wild. He puts a finger in my mouth and pushes his cock inside. We know it’s naughty but it feels so damn good.
I pull out a condom and he positions it on his beautiful cock. I climb on top, we don’t even need to talk about positions – he knows what I like and this is always it.
I can normally only come on top, that or being fingered, or from a tongue. I think I’ve already come twice – its difficult to keep track with N.
I’ve known him for over a year and we seem to have hit our groove. We’ve only fucked around 12 times but those have never been hit and run. He taught me once again that I was attractive and I could lose myself in sexual pleasure and not feel guilty about it. We tried to organise a threesome once but he got scared – and I love him for that. It was utterly selfish to want the two men I enjoy fucking the most to ravish me together.
We come within seconds of each other and afterwards he tells me a story about a woman on a canal boat who he fucked last summer. We’d been talking about guys who come too quick and that was the only time he did. He describes sitting in the boat with the windows open, people walking past. He doesn’t like fucking outside but he felt like he was. And came straight away.
(He tells the story better than I have)
As soon as he leaves I want more.

Tuesday’s Whimper

I’ve just come off my period and am ripe for some intimacy. My preferred partner is not available (let’s skim over the fact he hasn’t been for some months now) so I go with the next nearest, one who actually booty-whatsapped me the previous week but I was busy.
The arrangement is simple: we agree a time, he tells me he may be a little later. I change out of the days underwear and choose a simple lacy one-piece. Slick myself with lube just in case.
He arrives and takes his shoes off, goes straight upstairs. I hug him, his bulk is comforting to me after a week of no human contact.
I remember he won’t go down on him so I don’t pleasure him at all. We kiss and he fingers me gently, then building to a slamming finger fuck. I can hear I’m wet, and then he says it. I pass him a condom and he mounts me.
He isn’t the largest guy in my roster, in fact he is the smallest. And I don’t have much time to enjoy that as within 4 strokes he has shot his load and pulls out.
It’s hard not to be angry. He doesn’t pay any attention to my wanting pussy and demands a cup of tea.In the past the post-coital chats have been fun, but this one last two hours. During which he manages to freak me out, insult me and erase his name from my black book forever.

Overnight: stage two

His place is fashionably messy but stylish and feels comforting, unlike most lairs it doesn’t smell terrible. I meet his cat straight away and inwardly laugh at the last boy’s cat I met in the middle of the night that scared me to death.

The pizza is the main event – he has a chicken one and I have pepperoni. For some reason he eats most of mine. Two slices and I’m done, I am tired and want to be in bed with him.

He lounges on the sofa and I can’t work what he wants. I ask him and massage his crotch. He makes some excuse about wanting a shower but I go right ahead and unbelt his trousers.

His beautiful cock is hard and flinches as my lips envelop the end. He moans. I’m so aware of the pizza on the sofa beside us and reminded of the scene in one of the Belle De Jour books where she sleeps with a doctor after gorging on pizza, deep throats him and then ends up throwing up. I think they continue fucking anyway. It used to be one of my go-to wank materials. The book is long gone, but the incongruity of a blow job and a Tops Pepperoni still amuses me.

I slowly massage and lick at his balls, and concentrate at the job in hand. I’ve sucked a lot of cocks, but this is my current favourite. Number one in the Cock Chart, a new entry sliding in above the rest. There is something about his soft skin, the shape, the size – it’s not huge but it is perfectly formed.  And then the scent. Maybe it is a fetish, the smell of cock. I love how, after playing with someone you can’t really get the smell off. A dirty secret reminder to yourself of what you’ve been doing. I imagine the scent of pussy is just as delicious on your fingers.

As I continue my endeavours he twitches on the couch and opens his legs wider. And I can smell him so strongly. I can smell the day’s sweat and cock and ass. And it doesn’t make me retch. Am I weird?

We are both drunk and as a result there will be no sex. I’ve almost forgotten I’m on my period. I don’t know if he remembers. We stumble into bed and fall asleep with his cat at our feet.

In the morning I wake too early and we nuzzle into each other. I enjoy the comfort of someone else’s bed, a glorious victory of “staying at his” and having to do the walk of shame in the morning in yesterday’s knickers.

Overnight : Stage one

We’ve already met once this week and tonight was the planned version. A private view of an artist I don’t know but a gallery I do. I know he loves art because I’ve stalked his Instagram.

I arrive first and grab a beer. The work is beautiful: stark and unsettling, full of emotion. The gallery is quiet, unusual and plenty of opportunity to watch the behind the scenes film. He messages me to say he’s on his way.

I try to work out the best place to be – not in the first area, nervously looking for him. Not in the darkened area where he might miss me. And then I notice one of the guys who works there – he’s had all his hair cut off from Kurt Cobain length to well, a crew cut. We chat for a bit about the show. And then he arrives.

I introduce them, knowing he’ll like him. All the guys that work here are hot in a grunge style. It’s amazing I’ve never hit on any of them but my friend owns the place.

I know upstairs they have more artworks from other artists who aren’t on show. I ask if we can see and he leads us up there. As we pace around looking at the pieces I watch him. He knows his stuff, he’s enjoying this exclusive sneak peek behind the scenes. We joke and banter about buying two of everything. One of the other assistants bring us more beer.

It is the perfect date. And later in the pub he squeezes my thighs and tells me he kept watching me and then he asks me to his.

It is the first time I have been to a guy’s house in years. And it feels like achievement unlocked.

But first pizza: neither of us have eaten. And when we get off the train I grab his hand. And he doesn’t pull it away.

Two guys, one day

The first is a regular: a former FWB recently rediscovered. It’s like going back to an old teddy bear and in the movie of my life he will be played by Robbie Coltrane as Hagrid. Except a little more trimmed. And not a giant.

He visits the same day I’ve come off the red-eye. I am horny as anything and ready for cock. He provides it, and I kneel down to worship him. He’s told me he won’t go down on me anymore because of his beard but I dismiss this and climb on top of him. His cock is small, but very powerful. We fuck twice and I only come the second time. He stays for a long time afterwards chatting and has a cup of tea.

As soon as he’s left I’m showering and choosing underwear for the next guy. The one I’m stupidly in love with, against all of my better judgements. I’m surprised he’s asked to see me, but then we have spent the past 24 hours sexting, exchanging explicit photos and videos.. I had quite forgotten what a marvellous cock he has.

We meet in the same bar as last time and share an awkward greeting – not a kiss of a hug but a sort of coming together. God I really fancy this guy. I don’t know where to put myself. I’ve selected a short flowing skirt and a partly mesh top that shows my cleavage.

We chat about whats been happening in the last month. I check my phone and he’s messaged me “I can’t stop staring”. I take that as a good sign. We move to different seating and I expect him to make a move, but his move is just to grab my thigh.


We grab more drinks to take home, I’m amazed at how much alcohol he can handle. Perhaps all men are the same. Back at mine we flirt for a bit and then he asks me why I’m always so awkward around him. I fluff him off because I can’t say I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU YOU IDIOT. Then he confesses something to me which is so huge and such a turn on I can’t really do anything but grin.

He wants to sleep with a man.

We go upstairs and again the sex is mindless, crazy and incredible. I rarely am drunk when I fuck nowadays but with him it’s just something else. Him biting my nipples, him holding my hips. Even his cock tastes perfect.  Wow. Just wow.


In the morning I am jabbed awake by his erection in my back. His hands travel over my stomach up to my breasts and I almost cry with joy. I turn to face him and go down on him. He asks for a condom and we fuck again in the morning darkness. And then he gets up.

I give him a towel, spare mens deodorant and a toothbrush. It’s not as awkward this time. I make him some toast with marmalade. He asks to borrow a hairdryer ( no man has ever asked and it makes me melt)

Yeah, I have it bad.

As we leave the house for work the builders next door are stood on the steps all drinking tea. Caught.

I simply grin and ask how the renovations are going.

Nothing can kill this buzz.


Business lunch 

I’m at a workshop offsite, the usual excruciatingly bad team-building stuff except I’m the only one from my company. The team I’m in aren’t so bad but his messages come through and are a welcome distraction. I haven’t seen him for three months and miss his ridiculousness. I miss his cockiness; and his cock.

His messages are an absolute delight: he asks where I am and if I can slip away. But in a roundabout way, and I love him for it. An hour later we are in a cab to mine. The house is a tip, I don’t even have matching underwear on. But then I remember guys rarely care about that stuff. I leap on the bed and pull off my dress. He’s just taken his jacket off. I’m at just the right height to suck his cock, so get on with the business of unleashing it. I tease him, holding it until it hardens, he slips his hand into my pants and does the same. He forces his cock into my mouth and we both groan.

There are few cocks I enjoy returning to: barely a handful of those I sleep with. It is comforting like an adult pacifier. He thrusts into my mouth, grunting, holding my hair. He knows how I like to be used – I am putty in his hands. I adjust my position so I’m hanging off the edge of the bed and he crouches above me pumping. I have a great view of his ass, and I note the hairs are matted together from his morning shit, a few traces still remain. I splutter and he pulls out.

By now we are both naked. He doesn’t go down on me this time, I suspect because I haven’t shaved. I really want his cock inside me, but he is going to tease me royally. His fingers slip in and out of me, and he makes me lick them. Suddenly he asks for a condom. He grapples with it and then turns me around. He roughly pushes into me and reaches around me for my clit. He starts pushing further into me and I give way, the whole of my upper body crumpled on the bed. He pumps quickly, I manage to move with his rhythm. Slowly I pull up to support myself, my elbows holding me up. And push back on his cock, reverse riding it. I tell him I won’t come like this.

But I do. And I go back to work smelling of cock.

Ganache Panache

He is delivering me a cake for a colleague’s birthday. A ridiculous chocolate one with all the trimmings I ordered a week ago. I hadn’t expected him to stay and play but he notices I’m stressed and gives me a hug. He opens the lid of the box and the cake looks fantastic. He asks what’s up –  I tell him I’m trying to decide what to wear for a function the following evening so he asks if he can see the options.

He follows me upstairs and I try on a gold dress, a black one, a red one and a sparkly one. He lies on the bed, giving comments and opinions. I revel in it, loving the attention. He has another delivery to make tonight so he doesn’t have any time to stay. But as I move to show him out he quickly grabs my ass in front of the mirror and nuzzles my neck from behind so I cry out. his hand snakes under my dress and teases my pussy from my knickers. I groan again and we make it to the bed.

It’s a  quickie, and I know too quick for me to come. I ride him, enjoying his girth inside me. He bites my nipples, his beard tickling my breasts. I must look like the cat that’s got the cream. He takes me from behind, grabbing my ass and hips and pounding me. I feel used, and it feels good. I feel him come, shuddering and moaning.

He leaves and I shut the door, laughing to myself. I have a cake delivered and I’ve been fucked by the baker.


He has just been crowned my longest and most loyal FWB. It’s never straightforward; he’s definitely not at my beck and call. And he lives the other side of the city, so build in travel time and I’m the most hassle to get to, probably. We’re going on for coming up to two years now (yes I’m counting; so what?) and I’ve managed to get over thinking I was in love with him.

But an hour or two spent with him is always lemon meringue pie, with cream on top. Fish and chips with lots of vinegar. Scone with clotted cream and jam, all over your fingers. The perfect sized portion without being too sickly.

We go straight upstairs, no sofa talk this time. He wants to cut to the chase. He stalls a little, checking out my renovations and admiring my decorating. Whereas I’m wondering when he’s going to notice my suspenders.

We stand in my room, each waiting for the other to take charge. He grabs at me, feels my pussy through my dress. I reach for his belt and unhook it from his trousers. But he pushes me away. And then begins our dance.

His lips don’t leave my pussy for the next hour. I have barely touched his cock. We climb over each other, rocking, grinding, biting, sliding. I lose count of my orgasms. I feel like an animal, he is literally feeding on me. We 69 a couple of times, he cant take me deepthroating him, so I spin around and ask him to fuck me.

We start and are very quickly covered in sweat. He makes me stop, he’s too turned on. We lie across each other, scissored and he tells me my ass looks great from that angle. I giggle and slap his arm. He grabs my hands quickly and pushes them down on the bed. We try every position we normally do with a few new ones. He teases by saying he’s going to take my ass: he knows I will never let him. He’s too big for one.

We come together, me on top. It’s too hot and we clamber apart. We lie chatting, like old times. He tells me a long story about how he’s got rid of his dog. He loved that dog, I’d never expect him to do that. I ask about his family and correctly guess his sister is pregnant, a year after her marriage. It’s an oddly comforting conversation, like he’s revealing a little bit of himself to me.

He dresses to go, leaving me his vest which is dripping wet. I’ll wash it of course, and then he has something to come back for.


Some dom

I meet him in a bar in a part of town I know only a little. He is late; I wonder if he’s coming at all. He arrives dressed in black with a turtleneck, I joke he looks like the Milk Tray man. He has a lot to talk about, a ridiculous employment history spanning the forces, fashion and engineering. I feel awkward in comparison. After a while, I excuse myself to go to the loo and he grabs the inside of my leg – the fleshy part – very hard. I squeak in shock.

As I pee, I wonder if he has turned me on or not. I decide not, but I’m still intrigued. Back in my seat he talks about his stint as a barman at a sex club and his kink induction. His accent is an odd one and I ask him about it – the result of mixed parentage and growing up in several countries. I already know he’s a Dom but he starts to describe a few things and ask a few questions. One of which is whether my house has carpets as he wants to piss on my floor and see me lick it up. I’ve already discussed my limits but he’s pushing me. And then he asks me to accompany him into the park.

I’m going to point out its winter, dark and wet. I’m so aware that you, dear reader,  want to hear tales of sex and hilarity but I am not even slightly tempted. As a woman you go with your gut, it becomes instinct eventually. And my instinct is saying no.

We drink up, put our coats on and leave the pub. He’s also going to the tube station and we are travelling from the same platform. We do an awkward shuffle and he starts stroking my hair. I close my eyes, thinking he’s going to kiss me. How foolish. He pulls my hair, not down but backwards somehow and my eyes feel like they are bulging out of my head. Tears roll down my cheeks from the shock. All of this probably takes 20 seconds, but feels a lot longer. I reel, stagger to regain my composure and wrap my coat closer.

He mumbles something about not realising I’d react like that. I’ve already missed a few trains, I jump on the next one, confused and a little revulsed. My main fear is how many people saw that, oddly.

We make plans to see each other in a few days. But thankfully, I never hear from him again.

Red red wine

I am on a date. My first in over a year. It is going well. We have covered travelling, work, comedy, TV, music, pets and a bit of homeowner stuff. I fancy him. He is better in the flesh and I imagine myself in a relationship with him. I like his hair, his eyes, his shoes and just about everything. Except the fact he is good at interrupting me and then not going back to my story but explaining his.

We finish our first round and I ask if he wants another. He does, so I go around the bar and watch him from behind. He doesn’t get his phone out or look around. I’m grinning.

The rounds continue, we move to more intimate seating but he doesn’t make a move on me. So far he’s only touched my shoulder. I keep laughing and he keeps thinking I’m laughing at him. (He clearly hasn’t read the blogs on “how to tell if someone fancies you”). The bar closes and the tannoy announces “the complex is closing” so we giggle our way out of there and try and find somewhere else to drink.

In the movie version of the date, the camera will pan across to one of the tackiest pubs I’ve ever been in. As it’s supposedly a hotel I guess it’s open later on a Sunday. I don’t need more wine but here I am with a terrible tasting glass of vinegar after the delicious Malbec I’ve just had. I count 6 television screens in my view all showing a game of football in which we can’t make out the teams.

This bar also has to close so we slip into the station to get trains home. He is Overground, I am Underground. He does a stupid sad face and I cave in, cursing myself.


Back at mine, he removes his shoes without me asking him to and requests more wine. I have only one bottle of red and really don’t want any more. He sits cross-legged on the floor which puzzles me as I have plenty of seats. We start to watch “Jaws” which- now I think about it- is possibly the oddest first date movie ever. I ask him to sit next to me and suddenly I realise its after 1am and I have work in the morning.

We go upstairs and he carries the bottle and glasses. The next few hours are very hazy. I have a ridiculous assumption that NOTHING WILL HAPPEN and MY CLOTHES WILL STAY ON. I don’t remember getting undressed, but I do remember how he pulls my breasts out of my bra exclaiming how fantastic they are. I do remember how beautiful his cock is and how I can barely keep it out of my mouth. I do recall how he holds his wine while I’m doing it and asks for another bottle (which I ignore). I do remember how he spits on his fingers and rubs my clit maniacally. He does the same with my breasts, spitting directly on them and biting my nipples too hard.

We go for every position known to man and I love how he takes me from behind, but putting his whole weight on my back, craving the closeness.

I can’t come. Have I actually had too much sex already this year?

The Doxy comes out. He is fascinated by it, and me using it and rubs his cock furiously as I try to orgasm.

I realise it is now 5.18 am and tell him I need to be up in four hours.


I actually wake at 8, feeling like death. I manage to make it downstairs for water and paracetamol. Sadly these are brought up not long after. I sit on the sofa, wondering how to wake him up. He groans as I tell him I have to leave in half an hour. We do the walk of shame together, a short tube ride and kiss goodbye with pursed lips.

The sense of guilt is immense as I head to a full day of meetings.