Five Filthy Post-Covid Fantasies

This post was shamelessly inspired by Exhibit A’s 24 Hours posts.

Even though the pandemic isn’t over, many of us are starting to enjoy the perks of vaxxed life. That includes the ability to date, hook up, go to sexy events, and more. I’m currently taking a break from dating new people (for the reasons explained here) but that doesn’t mean I’m not fully embracing some recurring filthy fantasies. Here are five thoughts and fantasies that are occupying my sex brain at the moment.

The culmination of long-held sexual tension

How long have we been lusting after each other from afar at this point? Years? Sexual tension is delicious, but I fantasise about the moment we finally get to rip each other’s clothes off. A frantic fuck in a hotel room, the look on his face when he finally sees me naked for the first time in the flesh, the way my breath will catch when he pushes me against the wall and kisses me.

A kiss with a stranger

I don’t know their name, and I don’t want to. I want us to connect through looks and body-language, pressing close to each other on the dance-floor where it’s so loud we couldn’t really talk even if we wanted to. Our lips will meet in the dark and I’ll press just close enough to feel their cock through their jeans, to feel how much they want me. It won’t go any further, and it doesn’t need to. Just knowing they’ll be thinking about me when they get themself off later tonight is enough.

A spanking party

Spanking was my gateway drug, the first fetish I explored in my first sexual relationship, long before I had any real concept of what BDSM was or that it was a thing that millions of people are into. Though I’ve been to plenty of general BDSM events, I’ve never been to a specific spanking-themed party and I would love to. In this fantasy, I usually end up co-bottoming to a group of lovely, lightly sadistic Tops who want to be just the right level of horrible to me.

A strip club

I’ve wanted to go to a strip club for years (I actually tried to organise an outing to one a couple years ago for my birthday, but the one we were intending to go to closed down in the interim). I’ve received lap-dances a couple times in my life, in the context of private events, and both times the experience was incredibly hot. I’d love to experience it in the full strip club setting.

A swing resort

It’s long been a fantasy and ambition of mine to go to a swinging and nudist resort, and specifically to make it to the “Swingset Takes Desire” takeover in Cancun. This feels like a pipe-dream much of the time, because escaping to Mexico requires a high degree of logistical wrangling and is hella expensive, but someday we’ll make it happen.

I want to get naked in the sun, to run around in a space with others who understand my particular form of non-monogamous weirdness, flirt and dance and drink and fuck and just for a week, escape from the world into paradise.

What post-Covid fantasies are you harbouring, friends?

This post was written as part of Smutathon 2021! You can check out all our work and learn more about the challenge on the Smutathon website. Please consider donating to this year’s charities, Gendered Intelligence and Trans Lifeline.

Do I Actually Have a Cuckqueaning Kink?

I haven’t taken part in Kink of the Week for some time but, when I saw that this week’s theme was cuckolding, I decided to write this post I’ve been mulling over for some time. I fantasise about cuckqueaning – but do I ever want to actually do it?

First, a quick definition: what is cuckqueaning?

Cuckqueaning (which stems from cuckolding) is essentially a woman watching her partner have sex with someone else. But unlike typical group sex scenarios like threesomes or swinging, cuckolding/cuckqueaning generally involves a degree of humiliation, submission, or degredation as part of the fun.

Another variation on the “watching” theme is your partner going out and fucking someone else, then coming home and telling you all about it. A less common variation but one I’ve seen in porn is the submissive partner listening from the other room while their partner has sex with the third party.

The idea is that you’re being “made” to watch your partner with someone else (or listen to it, or hear about their adventures afterwards.) This plays into the submissiveness and humiliation of the scene. Obviously, the “force” is only pretend and all parties must be enthusiastically consenting to it all!

What is it about this kink that appeals?

Cuckqueaning appeals to me on a few different levels in a fantasy context. First and perhaps most obviously is that it hits my submissive buttons. What could be more submissive than watching passively while my partner gets it on with another hot person?

I love humiliation and degredation when it’s done well by someone I trust. It’s emotionally edgy, but that’s part of what I enjoy about it. Exploring those dark places is something I find healing and cathartic as well as hot and fun.

Cuckqueaning also ties deeply into my orgasm control/tease and denial kink. Something about (the idea of) watching my partner pleasure someone else while I’m on the sidelines is extremely hot to me in this specific way. Being wet and aroused and not able to touch myself or be touched is… well, very much my jam. At least in theory.

I fantasise about cuckqueaning a lot of the time when I’m masturbating. It’s one of my most often-used search terms on porn sites and Literotica. I dirty-talk about it with partners sometimes. It turns me the fuck on and it also scares the hell out of me.

Eroticising a deep fear

I firmly believe that at least some of the time, kinks emerge from eroticising the things we’re afraid of. For me, this is certainly true when it comes to my cuckqueaning fantasies.

One of my deepest, darkest, biggest fears is around my partner leaving me for someone else. This has happened to me in the past, in a relationship I thought was secure, and it was fucking devastating. It really broke me for a long time and left me with lasting trust issues, even though I know it was ultimately for the best.

I’m much more secure than I used to be (I’ve done a lot of work on myself in this area!). But, when I’m feeling at my lowest or my mental illness is kicking my ass, that fear is still the dark place I return to in my mind.

So surely cuckqueaning would hit that button in a bad way? Well… yes and no.

I’ve learned to work through that fear enough to have a happy and functional polyamorous relationship. Is there any reason I couldn’t work through it to realise my cuckqueaning kink, too?

I think a few criteria would have to be met for me to act on this fantasy in the real world. I’d need to be in a good place with my body image, feeling secure and confident. I’d need to trust not just my partner, but the third party as well, a whole hell of a lot. And I’d need a lot of aftercare and reassurance after the scene. I would need to know that my partner still really loves me and doesn’t really “prefer” (to whatever extent those comparisons are even meaningful outside of a consensual kink space) the other person.

Cuckqueaning scares the shit out of me. And yet I can’t stop finding the idea of it so fucking hot.

Because if I’m completely honest, poking the fear is also part of the appeal. It’s like dragging the biggest, scariest monster out from under the bed and facing off against it, but in a sexy way. I don’t know if I want to be cucked in spite of the fact that it terrifies me, or because it terrifies me.

So do I actually want to do it?

That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? Is this a fantasy that should STAY a fantasy, or is it one that I might bring out of my head and into my actual bedroom some day.

I’m truly not sure.

Acting out a fantasy in real life can be incredible if it lives up to expectations. Trying something you’ve wanted to try for years is a very powerful thing. I think it’s also valid and wonderful to have fantasies we enjoy, wank to, return to again and again… but never actually act out.

Which category is cuckqueaning in for me? I really don’t know. Time will tell.

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Kink of the Week is a blogging meme by Molly Moore of Molly’s Daily Kiss. Click the lips to check out everyone else’s work!

FYI: I’m taking a short vacation next week, so the blog will be quiet. Normal service will resume the week beginning 5th July.

Masturbation Monday: Five Fantasies

For today’s Masturbation Monday, I thought it might be fun to share a few of the things I most commonly think about when I’m wanking. My fantasy life is broad and varied, but a few themes crop up again and again. So these are the five scenarios that most frequently feature in my fantasies.

TW: mention of degredation play, objectification and playing with non-consent.

Extreme orgasm denial

Hi, if you’re new here – this is my main, ultimate, One Kink To Rule Them All! It frequently goes to places in fantasy where I’m not sure I’d want it to go in reality. Long-term denial, enforced chastity, only being allowed ruined orgasms for weeks or months, and being tied down and edged until I cry are all common themes (okay, maybe I actually do want that last one!)

Cuckqueaning

I have a theory that we often eroticise the things we’re most emotionally afraid of. For me, that’s being left for somebody else or my partner liking somebody more than me. So why does the idea of being forced to watch my partner fuck someone else, while I’m not allowed to join in and I’m mostly kind of ignored, arouse me so much? It definitely plays into the orgasm denial kink, and it definitely plays into my humiliation kink. Beyond that? It’s a mystery.

Gang-bangs

Well, group sex in general, but gang-bangs have a very specific place in my fantasies. I don’t know if it’s the idea of being used that gets me, or the idea of a whole room full of people who desire me… I think possibly both. Either way, the idea of just being fucked, one person after another after another, is a recurrent fantasy that I sort of hope I might get to make real someday. (With trusted friends in a controlled setting, obviously.)

Objectification

Objectification can take many forms. Being loaned out as property for others to use at my partner’s whim, being used as fuckable furniture, and being talked about as though I weren’t there are all recurring fantasy-fodder. The key is that I want to feel like an object, like what I want doesn’t matter and I’m just there to service others or be decorative.

Consensual non-consent

This is the type of scenario where I say no, but ultimately the person does what they want anyway. It particularly works for me if it’s accompanied by the sense that they know I want it really, because I’m a little slut who just wants to be fucked. As a survivor, playing with CNC with a trusted partner is part of how I’ve reclaimed my agency over my body after what happened to me.

So there you have it – a little sneak peek into the workings of my strange, horny mind. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go masturbate…

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Masturbation Monday: Re-learning How to Masturbate with My Fingers

It seems strange to me, now, to think back to a time before I owned sex toys (or when I’d only tried bad or ineffective ones.) Up until Mr CK bought me my Doxy and then a few months later I started this blog, the vast majority of my masturbation was done with my fingers.

Over the last few years, as this blog has grown and I’ve tested more and more sex toys and found a growing number that I really love, I just… stopped masturbating by hand. It was never a conscious decision. But when you have toys to test and write about, you use them. And after a while, it becomes a habit, and then the new normal.

Now, I still love my sex toys, of course! (Some more than others.) But I recently re-remembered just why I used to enjoy masturbating using nothing but my fingers.

It started because I’d forgotten to charge any of my usual go-to toys. I didn’t have time to stick one on charge and wait an hour or two, because I was ready for bed and just wanting a quick orgasm to help me sleep. So I decided to see if I could still get myself off with nothing but my hands.

Something I really enjoy doing is working myself up by watching porn or reading erotica, and seeing how long I can go before I simply have to touch myself. This is partly a way to indulge my denial kink by myself, partly a way to make masturbation more comfortable by ensuring my body is really ready for it, and partly a way to make my eventual orgasm really explosive. So I pulled up some erotica and started reading.

I found a really, really hot story which spoke to my kinks perfectly, and it wasn’t long before my cunt was dripping onto the bed. I dipped my fingers in and spread my wetness all over my labia, circling my clit but avoiding touching it directly. Making myself really desperate. Stroking and teasing my inner thighs, pulling gently on my outer and inner labia, thinking about having a hot sadistic Dominant making me beg to be allowed one little touch where I most needed it.

Flipping to the next chapter in the filthy smutty story, I finally allowed my fingers to drift to my aching clit, rubbing it oh-so-gently at first. I’m very quiet when I’m masturbating – a habit learned from years of living first at home and then in shared housing – but if I’d been playing with another person, this is the point where I would start barely-coherently pleading for them to rub harder, faster, stop teasing me (and yet sort of hoping they continued to tease for just a bit longer.) As it was, I couldn’t help thrusting against my own hand, torn between my body’s need for more friction and my desire to hold back and enjoy the clenching, frustrated ache.

When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I allowed my fingers to move faster, rubbing my clit in circles. It brought me to the edge ridiculously quickly. I pulled my hand away and this time a little needy whimper did escape. My hand grasped at a handful of the bedsheet as I spread my legs wide and forced myself to wait, counting thirty seconds to allow my cunt to calm down and come back from the edge.

I edged myself again and again and then again, sucking my own wetness off my fingers in between each one. Every time I pulled my fingers away just before tumbling over into orgasm, I thought of that same sadistic Dominant, speaking to me in a level, measured tone in perfect contrast to my increasingly frantic whimpers and pleas. “Not yet, Kitten. You can wait just a little bit longer, can’t you? I know it hurts but you want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

I seriously considered not allowing myself to come at all, and going to sleep wet and needy. But I was worried about my ability to sleep, so decided to save that particular self-inflicted torture for another occasion.

Allowing my fingers to drift back to my clit, I focused on circling it slowly and deliberately, bringing myself back to the edge. By this time I was so aroused that even the most feather-light touches were enough to get me close.

“This is all the stimulation you’re getting,” my imaginary sadist told me, as I resisted rubbing harder. “If you really need to come, this will be enough.”

That’s what was in my head when I let myself fall over the edge, my toes curling and legs shaking with one of the most intense and satisfying orgasms I’d had in a very long time.

Sex toys are brilliant, but sometimes I need to be reminded that my fingers were my clit’s best friends for a long time for a reason.

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Masturbation Monday: “On the Prowl”

She is on the prowl tonight. The black latex clings to every inch of her perfect body, the heels of her boots are spikes to crush anyone who gets in her way. The cat ears could be considered cute on someone else, but she will eat you alive if you call her cute.

She’s in the mood to fuck tonight. Not to get fucked; no. Tonight she wields the cock and you will submit.

She’ll extend a long finger, her nail a perfect pointed claw the colour of blood, and from across the room you’ll feel that nail and her gaze pierce you. You. She has chosen you, and she knows you will follow. That finger beckons you, and you come. The heat of the bodies and the thump of the music swells as she draws you in, close enough to feel the heat of her breath on your lips, close enough to see yourself reflected back in those startling feline eyes. She’s assessing you; will you pass? You must choose, in this moment, to obey or not. If you don’t, she will have no hesitance in casting you aside with a flick of her tail and seeking a more suitable worshiper.

Satisfied, she grants you a single nod of approval. You lap it up as though you are starving. She will not allow you to touch her. You have not earned that right. Your hands must stay obediently at your sides, a test of your willpower and devotion.

Later, you will find yourself prostrate on her bed in submission as she slides in and out of you. You revel in the gentle hiss of her breath at the exertion. She revels in the sheen of sweat glistening upon your back as you take her in. She might reach beneath you to wrap her claws around your longing cock – if you’re lucky. More likely she will simply use you, take what she wants and ignore your aching need, and you will adore her all the more for it. You are here, after all, to serve her.

Tonight she is on the prowl, and her hunt will be rewarded.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week.


Masturbation Monday: “The Patterned Carpet”

The patterned carpet is rough against my knees. When I put my just-above-the-knee dress back on, will everyone see the redness there and know exactly what I’ve been up to? Will they think I’m a slut? Do I care if they do?

My thoughts are silenced at the sight of his cock springing, already fully erect, from his unbuttoned jeans. This is what I’ve been wanting all night, and he knows it. When he brought me out here to this deserted corridor, told me to take off my dress and pushed me down on my knees, he was in no doubt that it was exactly what I wanted.

A black and white photo of a naked woman kneeling on a patterned carpet about to take a clothed man's cock into her mouth

I lick my lips and part them eagerly, wordlessly inviting him to fuck my mouth. He takes his cock into his hand and holds it towards my waiting lips, offering it to me.

“Come and get it then, girl.”

I take him all the way into my mouth in one swift movement. It’s been a while since I sucked a cock, especially one as magnificent as this. But muscle memory is powerful and he moans loudly as his head hits the back of my throat. I slide my mouth up and down on him, sometimes deepthroating as far as I can go, sometimes pulling most of the way back and teasing the head of his shaft with my tongue.

I close my eyes and surrender to the taste of him, the salty pre-cum that begins to drip onto my tongue, the surprising softness of his rock-hard erection. Nothing matters except getting him off. I can tell when he’s getting close, because he grabs the back of my head to hold me in place. To hold is cock in the back of my throat. I gag, but he doesn’t care. Good. I don’t want him to care. I want to be a vessel for his cock, thoughtless and blank, naked before him for his use.

He gasps and then, with a long moan, releases down my throat. I revel in the taste of hot, sticky, salty come. When he eventually releases me, satisfied, I pull back and  some of it drips from my mouth and down my chin. I catch it with a finger and suck the finger clean, needing to taste every drop of him.

He buttons his jeans and  leaves me there on the floor, patterned carpet burning my bare knees, my cunt and inner thighs slick with my arousal. And I am satiated.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

Image is by Zen Nudist AKA Kilted Wookie.

Masturbation Monday: “Canvas”

She was his canvas.

Anna lay, nude, face down on the massage-bed. The whir and buzz of the machinery had long ago lulled her into a meditative state. This, combined with the delicious pain down one side of her back and the occasional reassuring touches from her Master, made Anna feel as though she were floating. She was only dimly aware, on the edges of her consciousness, that she was so wet she was surely soaking the towels beneath her.

She had never wanted a tattoo before she met Cameron. Sure, she could admire the beauty and artistry when she saw them on other people, but the idea of getting one herself scared her. Not the pain, so much, but the permanence. Could etching something on her skin for life ever be a good idea? Cam had changed all that. Not just a tattooist but a true artist, he prided himself on creating beautiful, unique work for every client and giving them something they could look at and admire for years to come.

“I want you to tattoo me,” she told him on the eve of her fortieth birthday. “For my birthday.”

Cam had pursed his lips, fork hovering in mid air on the way to his mouth in surprise. “Are you sure?” he’d asked. She nodded emphatically. “Okay. What sort of tattoo do you want?”

“Something beautiful. Something us. I want it to mark me as yours.”

Cam had simply nodded, and they had gone on with their meal. This morning, she had come downstairs to find the massage bed laid out in the living room, and Cam setting up his equipment. He’d asked her if she was sure. She told him she had never been more sure of anything.

She wondered what he – her Dom, her Master, her Love – was putting on her body.

No names, she’d said emphatically. And nothing that I can’t show off in public if we go to the beach or the pool. Beyond those stipulations, she’d given him freedom – her body to use as his canvas.

The whirring slowed and stopped. Pausing from his work, Cam stroked a hand down the middle of Anna’s back, carefully avoiding his fresh handiwork. She drew in her breath.

“How are you doing, my love?” he asked her.

“I’m perfect,” she whispered back.

“There’s still an hour or two of work to finish it off. But you’re being such a good girl, you deserve a treat first.” His hand was rubbing her arse as he said these words. He delivered a sharp smack to each cheek, making her squeal in pleasurable pain. Then his fingers were sliding down past her arse, between her legs, pushing them slightly apart. She blushed furiously, thankful he could not see her face, knowing what he was going to find.

“You’re dripping,” he said, a note of surprise in his voice, as his fingers found the core of her arousal. “Why is that, slut?”

“I like the pain. And you putting your permanent mark on me. And…” she trailed off as one finger slid inside her cunt. He quickly found her G-spot and pressed against it firmly, while his thumb found her erect clitoris and started to circle it. Anna gasped and lifted her hips eagerly from the table to meet his fingers.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he murmured, rubbing her clit a little more firmly. “Plenty of the women I tattoo get aroused during. And the men, too.” She moaned, this thought producing another flood of wetness in her cunt. “Only I don’t do this to them, of course. But I can always spot which ones are the masochists. The ones who get all gooey eyed and floaty like you were doing just now. And I know they’ll go home and wank off furiously when I’m done with them.”

She was humping his hand with abandon now. A second finger joined the first in her vagina, while his thumb continued its assault of her now very swollen clit.

“Sir, I’m close…” she moaned. Cam grinned, wondering for just a second whether he should stop and do the rest of the tattoo while she tried not to squirm with unfulfilled arousal. But she was such a good girl, and this was a special occasion.

“Come on then, girl,” he commanded, redoubling his efforts. Then he leaned forward and murmured into her ear, “come for me, my love.”

Anna’s whole body jerked as she came, gushing over Cam’s hand and soaking through the towels beneath her. The sound she made was half mewl, half growl. Then her Master was withdrawing his fingers from her, stroking her hair, telling her she was a good girl. Her cunt spasmed, sending aftershocks through her body. She could not remember the last time she had come so explosively and so quickly.

“Thank you, Sir,” she murmured.

She heard the buzz as Cam started up his tattoo machine again. “Lie still now, sweetheart, and let me finish decorating you.”

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords.

Masturbation Monday: “Through a Crack in the Door…”

The house is quiet. At first, I think there’s no-one home. He must have gone out to work. But then, at the end of the corridor, I notice the bedroom light on. The door is slightly ajar.

I shut the from door silently behind me, grinning to myself, knowing what my husband must be up to. I creep down the hall towards the bedroom.

Through the slightly open door, I have the perfect view of the bed – and the perfect view of him. He’s lying on his back in all his gorgeous, naked glory, eyes closed, right hand slowly stroking up and down his erect cock. I love watching him play with himself. I love the completely different way it lets me see his pleasure and his body. But somehow it’s even hotter when he doesn’t know I’m watching. It’s so natural. So… un-staged.

I watch his chest move up and down as his breathing quickens in time with the hand jerking his cock. A little gasp escapes from his lips. A drop of pre-come beads on the end of his shaft and slowly trickles out.

He’s close now. I can tell by the way his grip tightens, his hand moving faster and faster. I realise that I am holding my breath, and that my own cock is rock solid beneath my jeans. His hips are lifting up off the bed, thrusting his cock into his own hand the way he does into mine when I wank him off.

He groans loudly as he reaches his climax. Come splashes onto his stomach. I am overcome with the desire to crawl onto the bed beside him and lick it from his sweat-damp skin. Instead, I back away without making a sound, back down the hall towards the door. I wait a few seconds, then open the door and slam it loudly.

“Hi honey! Are you home?”

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords.


Masturbation Monday: “Dining Alone”

Today’s Masturbation Monday comes from a prompt by Mr C&K – “write about going to a restaurant and getting it on with the hot waitress.” Well okay then!

I noticed her the moment I walked in. Long waves of red hair, barely contained by the sensible ponytail, curves filling the modest-yet-sexy knee length black dress, a smattering of freckles from the summer sun across the bridge of her nose, grey-green eyes. So my type it hurts.

So straight it hurts, I tell myself as she asks me where I’d like to sit and shows me to a quiet booth at the back of the restaurant. The girls you like always are. I’ve been on this business trip ten days and I’m sick of everything this boring little town has to offer – which isn’t much. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since I stepped off the plane.

I order my glass of wine, my starter, my main course, and each time she comes to take an order or bring me something I try not to stare. The shape of her breasts in that dress – not to mention the fact that I haven’t had sex or even masturbated in weeks – has my cunt dripping into my knickers. I reach into my bag for my book, the book I’ve been secretly reading at night in my hotel room. Do I actually dare read it here, in public?

Fuck it, I think. No-one here is paying attention, and even if they do, they don’t know me.

Of course, the filth on the page just has me even wetter, reading about women doing filthy things to each other and imagining the beautiful waitress in those scenarios with me.

“What are you reading?” she asks, coming over to clear my starter plate away. I jump and look up guiltily, slamming the book shut and shoving it onto my lap under the table. To my disbelief, she reaches down and grabs it to take a look.

Best Lesbian Erotica,” she reads out loud, an eyebrow raised. Her gaze moves from the book cover to my now scarlet face. “Really now?”

“Research…” I stammer.

“Sure, babe.” She hands the book back to me. “More wine?”

“What? Oh. Uh. Yes. Please.”

She takes my glass and saunters away without another word. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was swinging her hips and ass deliberately to taunt me. Not knowing what else to do, I return to my book. When she brings my wine and, a few minutes later, my main course, I dare to flash what I hope is a flirtatious smile at her.

Judge me for reading porn in public, I dare you!

“Is everything okay?” she asks, appearing by my table again as I’m half way through my spaghetti alla carbonara. I nod, my mouth full. She pulls a pen out of her breast pocket, grabs the spare napkin from the unused place setting opposite me, scrawls a quick note and shoves it towards me. This all seems to happen in a single fluid movement, and she’s walking away again.

Shift finishes in twenty. When you see me go through the door in the far left corner, follow me – code is 1013. Don’t let my colleague see you. We won’t be disturbed. 

I nearly choke on my mouthful of spaghetti. Even as I’m telling myself that this is insane, I know that I will go. After all, when a beautiful woman summons you with such calm authority, what else can you do?

I keep my eyes on my food and occasionally glance at my watch as the ten minutes ticks down. At precisely one minute past ten, I watch out of the corner of my eye as she waves goodnight to her colleague and saunters to the back of the restaurant and out of sight.

Am I really going to do this? Do I dare? In a second, I decide. I throw down enough cash to cover my meal and a generous tip – a very generous tip – and head in the same direction, one eye on the other waitress, now the only person working. As she’s ringing up another customer, I seize my moment, punch in the code, and shut the “staff only” door behind me. I just have time to take note of that fact that we’re in a large and deserted commercial kitchen, all silver and chrome, when…

“I knew you’d come.”

She’s sitting on one of the shiny counter-tops, stockinged feet now free of her high-heeled shoes, sipping from a glass of what looks like whisky on the rocks.

“I don’t really know…”

I was going to say I don’t really know why I did, but she cuts me off. “Shush. You’ve been eye-fucking me since the moment you walked in. Lucky for you, I think you’re kinda cute too.” She hops down and comes towards me. She’s shorter than me without her tall shoes, but the confidence and power she exudes leaves me in no doubt who’s in charge.

My mind starts to race. Is she toying with me? Is this some kind of joke? What if someone walks in at any second? Then she presses her perfect, red, whisky-flavoured lips to mine, and I stop thinking about anything at all.

She pushes me back against the closed door, fingers twisting their way into my hair as we kiss. I think I moan, but the sound is swallowed by the kiss. I cannot remember the last time my cunt was so wet from nothing more than kissing and feeling someone’s body pressed up against mine.

She nudges my legs apart with her hand, then brings her leg between mine, thigh pressing against my cunt. Even through my tights and knickers, I’m sure she can feel the heat and wetness. Shameless, now, I grind against her, desperate for more stimulation. God, how long has it been? Can a few short weeks of no sex really make me into such a wanton slut?

I gasp when the leg is moved and replaced by her hand, the ends of long, elegant fingers dancing ever-so-softly against my cunt through the two thin layers of clothing. She’s teasing me, because she can see how much I want it.

“Please…” I whimper against her mouth.

“Is this what you want?” she asks, slipping her hand under the waistband of my tights and into my knickers, making contact with my desperate cunt at last. My gasp of pleasure is the answer she needs. When her fingers make contact with my clit and begin to circle it, I cannot help my moaning.

“You have to be quiet,” she says. “Can’t have you getting me caught and in trouble. If you make too much noise I’ll have to stop.” Her calm dominance and her talented fingers have me weak at the knees, gladly wanting to do anything she says, anything to please her. Another rush of wetness coats my already soaked panties.

I’ve always been loud in bed. It’s just the way I am. Back in my university days, my housemates hated it when I brought this girl or that boy home for a night of passion (which was often) because it meant none of them were getting any rest that night. But I believe this beautiful woman when she tells me that she will stop fingering me if I make too much noise, and all I want in the world right now is for her fingers to keep going, keep pushing me towards bliss.

Her rubbing has changed. Faster now, and harder, my own juices providing all the lubrication we need. I bury my face in her shoulder, in her hair, to hold back my sounds. My clit feels harder than I can ever remember it being, and I’m thrusting my hips, humping her hand with my cunt. I’m so close! For some reason it comes to me to ask her permission.

“Please can I cum?” I whisper frantically.

“Just from this little bit of attention? God, you really were gagging for it, weren’t you?”

The flush of embarrassment nearly pushes me over the edge. “Oh, god, please…”

“You can cumif you can do it quietly.”

My mouth opens into a scream but no sound comes out. Somehow, holding the sound in makes my orgasm even more intense and I cum, harder than I have ever cum before, in this stranger’s hand.

As I grab at the wall to steady myself, she places a small kiss upon my lips and then withdraws her hand from my knickers and shoves her sticky fingers into my mouth.

“Clean your mess up,” she orders. I suck the fingers clean, the musky smell and taste of my own cunt making me realise how much I want to taste hers.

“Can I…?” I ask, already crouching before her and starting to push her dress up.

“No. My colleague will be in here any minute and you need to be gone by then.” I swallow my disappointment as my hopes of getting to bury my face between her perfect legs are dashed. Then, perhaps inspired by her, I have a flash of daring.

“Quick. Give me your phone.” She does. I punch in the name of my hotel and my room number. “I’m here two more nights. Come and find me and I’ll return the favour.”

It’s not until she’s kissed me once more and then shoved me out of the back door and into the night that I realise I never caught her name.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the link to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

Masturbation Monday: “Oral Service”

She’s a good girl. I tell her so often. It’s one of the many reasons I love her. She’s been serving me faithfully for years now, my girl, and it’s got so much better since we’ve both been self-employed and working from home.

Usually when we’re at home together, we work side by side in my home office. Well… I sit at the desk and she sits cross-legged on the floor by my side, laptop open in front of her. I like her to wear nothing but cute knickers and her collar. Sometimes not even that. She fetches me coffee when she takes a break from typing, knowing exactly how I like it – cream, no sugar unless I’m having a particularly stressful day, and served to me by a gorgeous kneeling service submissive. She glows with pride when I take the drink, take a sip, then stroke her hair and tell her she’s my good girl.

Sometimes, though, the service I require from her is more intimate than just fetching my drink. You see, I’m an erotica author by profession. I write about sex – hot, steamy, wild, kinky, queer sex – for seven or eight hours a day. And more often than not, I get really fucking turned on doing it.

“Girl.”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Get to a good stopping place and tell me when you’re ready”. I am considerate of her work and always give her a reasonable time-frame to refocus her attention on serving me. A few minutes later, she tells me she’s ready.

“Good. Now come over here and get under the desk. This scene I’m writing has got me needing your lovely tongue”. I push my chair back to let her get into position under my desk. Then I move back towards her, flip my skirt up – I hardly ever wear knickers for exactly this reason – and offer my cunt to my eagerly waiting girl.

She runs the tip of her tongue against my labia, then pushes it into my cunt, tasting my excitement. Then she finds my clit and begins first circling it, then flicking it gently. I moan, my back arching, hands gripping the edge of the desk. Fuck, she’s good. She licks faster, lashing my sensitive clit with her tongue. She might be my submissive, but I am all hers when she pleasures me like this.

My legs are beginning to tremble as she brings me closer to orgasm. I know she feels it, because she clamps her mouth around my clit and sucks it hard. This always tips me over the edge. I reach under the desk and grasp a handful of her hair, using it to hold her pretty face in position as my cunt spasms and I come, hard, in her mouth.

As my orgasm subsides I release her and fall back in my chair, catching my breath.

She peeks out from under the desk and grins.

“Kiss?” she asks in that adorable voice that I can rarely say no to.

I lean down to kiss her, my girl. My good girl, still with the taste of my orgasm on her lips.

Masturbation Monday is created and run by Kayla Lords.