Masturbation Monday: 5 Great Reasons to Wank

I’m trying to embrace the spirit of Masturbation Monday as being for both smutty stories (things that make you want to masturbate) and essays about masturbation. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about good reasons to wank – besides the obvious “because I’m horny” – and have realised they are surprisingly diverse. So here’s five great reasons to masturbate today!

To help you fall asleep

I masturbate before bed probably five or six nights out of seven, on average. If my brain is feeling restless or my body won’t quite shut down but I need to get some sleep, a quick wank is an ideal way to help me doze off. Canadian sexuality therapist Judith Golden explains that ” because blood pressure is lowered and relaxation is increased through the release of endorphins, masturbation is a good sleeping pill.” (Source here.)

For pain relief

Back before I got an IUD, I used to suffer from absolutely debilitating menstrual cramps. They could render me virtually bedridden, unable to go about my normal tasks. Over the years, I learned that orgasm was one of the few things that really helped.

One study from the University of Münster in Germany found that 60% of their participants experienced reduced migraine symptoms as a result of engaging in sexual activity. Stefan Evers, MD, believes that this could also have to do with the endorphins released at the point of orgasm. Another study from Rutgers University found that people with vulvas could tolerate up to 75% more pain than usual during orgasm. (Source here.)

There’s much more research to be done, of course, but so far the findings seem to agree that orgasm can have a positive impact on pain levels.

To pick you up if you’re feeling down

I always joke (darkly) that I know I’m depressed if I’m masturbating more often to help me feel alive… and really depressed if I just don’t want to wank at all. Seriously, though, despite outdated nonsense about too much masturbation being bad for our emotional wellbeing, masturbation can be great as a tool for managing mental health. It’s a great self care technique, a way to show yourself some love and affection, and I’ve found that the post-wank haze breaks through the depressive fog like little else.

Phychologist Jennifer Rhodes, PsyD, suggests that “masturbation helps to release dopamine and oxytocin, the feel-good chemicals, which would help with symptoms of anxiety or depression.” (Source: here.)

To turn your partner on or to explore a different kind of sexual intimacy

Let’s get a little sexier, shall we? For many people, masturbating in front of their partner or watching their partner wank is sexy as hell. Masturbating for your partner can help to arouse them and get them in the mood for sexy time with you, as well as giving them vital information about how you’d like to be touched.

Don’t forget that masturbating together doesn’t have to lead to sexual contact with the other person or to intercourse. Masturbating side by side, or masturbating while your partner holds you, kisses you, or talks dirty to you, is sex in and of itself – and it can be amazing! Whether one of you isn’t in the mood but is happy to help the other get off, one or both of you isn’t up for sex for physical or mental health reasons, or you’re just feeling like a relaxed session of getting yourselves off, shared masturbation is consistently underrated. Try it!

To learn more about your body

It’s a sex education cliche, but it’s also true that it’s much harder to show a partner how to please you sexually if you don’t know how to please yourself. Masturbation is a brilliant way to explore your own body, your arousal and responses and desires, in a safe and low-pressure way. Whether you’re not having partnered sex yet (or don’t want to ever!) or have been having regular sex for decades, there are endless new things we can learn about ourselves. This is especially true because our bodies change as we age.

Jenny Block writes that “masturbating allows you to stay in touch with your body – how it feels, how it likes to be touched, what brings you pleasure. Your body is yours. It’s your place, your home, your pleasure. It is your right and honour to enjoy it. Sharing it can be a wonderful thing. But if we don’t masturbate, we risk becoming someone else’s vision of ourselves and not remaining true to our desires.” (Source: Block, The Ultimate Guide to Solo Sex, p. 85.)

Have you found great reasons to wank beyond the obvious one? Tweet me or share in the comments!

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Masturbation Monday is a meme owned and run by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what everyone else is getting off to this week, or check out all my previous MM stories and essays! If you enjoyed this story, please consider buying me a coffee or joining me on Patreon. Every single £ helps keep the blog going!

Masturbation Monday: “Small Hands”

Content warning: this story contains fisting

This is not the first time I’ve fucked my husband’s girlfriend. She and I aren’t dating, and mostly their relationship is separate – but the three of us tumble into bed together from time to time, when the urge strikes us.

Whenever I hold hands with someone new, they notice how small my hands are compared to theirs. Usually at this point I crack a joke about fisting, just to assess if they’re enough of a pervert to be worth dating. But until now, no-one has taken me up on the idea. Until last week, when my husband approached me with an idea for our next polycule date night.

“Anna wants to try being fisted, but she’s scared to let me do it because my hands are too big. So I came up with a creative solution. You’re going to do it for me. I’m going to use you and your small hands to fuck her.”

I gave this idea a second to sink in, and then felt a wide smile spread across my face. It was just the kind of deliciously filthy idea Scott is always coming up with. I gave my enthusiastic approval to this idea, and he went off to sound Anna out about it.

So that’s how I find myself kneeling between Anna’s long, spread legs now, watching her writhe as my husband holds the Magic Wand against her cunt, warming her up. He bends to kiss her lips, murmuring that she’s a good girl, asking her if she’s ready to take my hand inside of her. She nods so emphatically I can’t help but giggle.

The wand is switched off and laid to one side. Scott positions himself at Anna’s side, holding her hand. It’s only as I reach for the supplies – latex gloves, lube – that we stashed nearby before playtime started that I realise I’m actually nervous. Giving someone their first taste of a new experience is a big responsibility.

I take a breath and make a show of confidence as I slip a latex glove over my hand and cover my index and middle finger in lube. I slide my slick fingers over Anna’s vulva, the lube mixing with her own wetness. When I push those two fingers into her, she moans and arches her hips off the bed to meet them. Even through the glove, I can feel her warmth. I press my fingers against her G-spot, which is swollen, and stroke it.

Encouraged by her reactions, a third finger joins the two already inside her. I glance at Scott for approval. The look on his face, as he watches his wife fingering his girlfriend, is pure lust tinged with awe. I return my attention to Anna’s cunt, slowly sliding my three fingers in and out of her, warming her up and stretching her open. When I experimentally try adding a fourth finger, she welcomes it eagerly. I hold my hand still, allowing her to accustom to the sensation. She bucks against my hand, using my fingers to fuck herself.

“Are you ready for more?” I ask her. She nods, eyes closed, a blissful smile on her face. I curl my thumb under, remembering the instructions in the “how to” video I dutifully watched in preparation for tonight, and add another slather of lube to my hand before pushing very slowly back into her. To the first knuckle, then the second. Her cunt seems to be trying to swallow my hand whole.

“Breathe,” I instruct her. “We’re at the widest part of my hand now. I won’t go any further until you tell me you’re ready.” I watch her chest rise and fall as she takes one, two, three deep breaths.

“Okay,” she says, “go on.” I take her free hand with mine, hoping she can feel the love and affection that I’m radiating towards her. She takes another breath and as she exhales, the widest part of my hand

“One more little push and my whole hand will be in,” I tell her. “Do you want to take it for me?” Her nod is emphatic. I mentally thank the universe for my small hands.

Another slick of lube and another gentle push, and my entire hand is inside her up to the wrist. The sound that comes from her is somewhere between a moan and a growl. I experiment with gently moving my fingers inside her, and then slowly turning my wrist 180 degrees, feeling her vaginal walls enveloping my hand.

I meet Scott’s gaze, and my eyes flick to the Magic Wand and then back to him. He grins, understanding my meaning, and grabs the toy. He turns it to full power and presses it into Anna’s vulva. The way she squirms, the sounds coming from her, make me so fucking wet that I can feel myself soaking my knickers.

“I’m really close…” Anna gasps, her cunt clenching around my hand.

“Come for us, darling,” Scott tells her. I feel her gush, fluid leaking around my hand and pooling on the bed beneath her arse. A flush creeps across her skin and her breathing slowly returns to normal.

“That was… fucking incredible,” she gasps.

It’s only when I withdraw my hand and peel off the glove that I realise I’m still wearing my wedding ring. I smirk to myself. Fisting my husband’s girlfriend on his instructions might be one of the hottest and filthiest things I’ve ever done.

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Masturbation Monday is a meme owned and run by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what everyone else is getting off to this week, or check out all my previous MM stories! If you enjoyed this story, please consider buying me a coffee or joining me on Patreon. Every single £ helps keep the blog going! This post also contains affiliate links.

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 is a blogging meme owned and run by Kayla Lords, where tonnes of amazing writers share smutty fiction, true life stories, and essays about wanking! Click the logo to see who else is having fun this week! If you enjoyed this filthy little true story, please buy me a coffee to show your appreciation!

Masturbation Monday Guest Blog: Date Night by Mr CK

Today’s Masturbation Monday is a very special guest post written by none other than…

(drumroll please)

…Mr CK! Yes, that’s right, after nearly two years of blogging I have finally persuaded my sweetheart to write some smut for you all. And he’s produced a fantasy kinky scene that I’m sure you’ll all agree is simply delicious. This piece came without a title so I’ve called it “Date Night” because, well, I think this sounds like my perfect date.

A woman's bottom, legs and hands. She is wearing black leather cuffs. For "Masturbation Monday - Date Night" by Mr CK

Date Night by Mr CK

On arrival, he tells you to remove your shoes and coat and then go upstairs and into the bedroom. There’s no hint of malice in the tone of his voice, but it’s also clear that it would be best for you to be an obedient sub and do as he says. That’s confirmed when he says those words as you walk into the bedroom, him two paces behind you. “Good girl.”

The bedroom is warm. Lying on the bed are various items, which he gives you time to look at; to sink into your consciousness. A spreader bar. Various leather cuffs. Some rope and safety shears. Two floggers (one large, one small). A leather paddle. A glass dildo and a large, mains-powered wand — the type that gives very deep and rumbly vibrations. You suspect this isn’t going to be a simple cuddle session!

“Remove all of your clothes except your knickers.” Again, the tone leaves little room for disobedience. Somewhat shyly and a little bit nervously, but also full of that kitty curiosity that you know he loves so much, you strip whilst he watches you; admiring your body.

One hand under your chin, he leans in to kiss you on your lips, the other hand removing your hair-tie and then tracing a single finger from the back of your head, all the way down your spine to your knicker-line. With a smile, he reaches onto the bed and picks up a pair of cuffs.

“Yes — I’m going to restrain you. And then tease you. A lot. I’m not going to touch your cunt at all; at least, not until I think you’ve pleaded enough for me to do so and then I will tease it, spank it and, if you’re very lucky, even give you an orgasm.”

Cuffs go onto your wrists and then onto your ankles. He leads you around the other side of the bed and stands you looking into the full-length mirror, him standing behind you. You watch as he explores your body with his hands, tracing the lines of the inked serpents decorating your curves, a mixture of gentle caresses, light scritches, heavier scratches and a whole bunch of surprise pinches and small slaps that make you catch your breath. He doesn’t touch your cunt. At all.

He turns you around and pushes you onto the bed, face down, cuffs clasped behind your back. The exploration continues. He’s clearly enjoying it — enjoying you — if the noises of delight he’s making at your reactions are anything to go by. More of the mixed-sensation touching, with harder spanks on your bum and thighs, some much harder. You feel his breath on your back, the sensation of his mouth and tongue kissing and licking you. Random bites setting your skin ablaze. And then a pause.

He reaches for something else from the bed. You’re not sure what as he has grasped handfuls of your hair and buried your face in the bed as he did so. Something solid on your back. Cool. The paddle. He uses it on your butt. Once. Gauging your response and asking what kind of pain level that was at. Adjusting, he strikes you again.

“I’m going to give you 8 of these. You’re going to count them, one by one. If you lose count, we start again. Understood?”

You say yes. He hears the trepidation in your voice. “It’s okay — you are a brave girl and you can take this for me. I will look after you.”

The first three strikes were no harder then the test strikes. But only the first three. Gradually, they get harder. He knows your tricks. As you clench your buttocks and try to get away from the paddle, he pulls your head back with the hair he still grasps, forcing your back to arch, making you more vulnerable. The continued strikes are not too hard that you are out of your depth, but hard enough that you are glad there are only 8 of them. You don’t lose count. You feel he must be pleased with you!

“You’re such a good and brave girl!” A calming hand on your back, gentle kisses on your neck. “Turn over — let me kiss your lips.” More kisses and a big hug.

“Now, I’m not finished with you, yet. You’re nowhere near to pleading for me to touch your cunt, so there’s much more teasing to be done!”

To be continued…

Editor’s note 09/03/19: Oops! Mr CK sent me the *earlier* edit of this by mistake. It has now been updated to the final version.

Do we want part two? I think we do!

This piece is shared as part of Masturbation Monday, a meme owned and run by Kayla Lords. Click here to see what everyone else is getting off to this week!

Image from Pixabay.

[Masturbation Monday] The Halloween Party

“Halloween is the one night a year when a girl is allowed to dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it!” – Mean Girls

A close up on a pair of red painted lips, half in shadow, for a Halloween erotica postThere was no getting away from it – my Halloween outfit was very slutty. Of course, that’s how I like it. I love my body, all 215lb of it, and any excuse to show it off to consenting viewers is alright by me.

My “Vampire” costume from Lovehoney was little more than a net dress that covered precisely nothing, and a cute little vamp cape to tie around my neck. I’d added some ceramic fangs, a generous dash of crimson lipstick, and a careful trickle of red food-colouring along my neck. Perfect.

Hours later, dancing at the party, I was glad that I was basically close to naked – fifty bodies in a house that’s really only big enough for ten gets very sweaty, very quickly. Not that I was complaining. Fifty of my sexiest friends (plus a few strangers) all crammed in very close proximity with each other? Yum. My outfit wasn’t even the sluttiest one there! Our host, Laura – sixty if she was a day – wore nothing at all but towering heels, a kitten-tail butt plug, and leather cat ears.

My wife, Beth, is less of an exhibitionist than me. Not the type to get her tits out in public. Even so, she looked ravishing in a corset, floor-length fishtail skirt, and a fascinator resembling a witch’s hat. She pressed her body close to me as we danced, occasionally leaning in to plant a kiss on my lips, hers becoming more and more stained with my ridiculous lipstick each time.

Emboldened by a glass of wine and the knowledge that it was the sort of environment where getting it on with my very sexy wife in semi-public wasn’t going to upset anyone, I slid my hand down the front of her skirt. She gasped and I watched her dark eyes widen.

Kissing her to swallow the moan, I slid two fingers all the way into her and curled them slightly, rubbing her G-spot. Breaking the kiss, she snaked her arms around my waist and threw back her head, eyes closing. The music covered her little noises of pleasure, but no-one who was looking could mistake the look on her face. My body pressed against hers, I fingered her deeply and slowly, in just the way I know she loves. In just the way I know makes her come uncontrollably. I felt her hips bucking slightly against my hand and another rush of wetness from her pussy. She came a moment later, kissing me and pushing her tongue into my mouth as she did. She tasted of red wine and sweat. God, I love you.

Her eyes sparkled as I licked her wetness from my fingers.

“My lipstick is all over your face,” I told her with a grin.

“Babe?” she said sleepily, much later, her head on my shoulder in the taxi home.

“Yes, love?”

“Did I mention I fucking love that outfit on you?”

Today’s Masturbation Monday is brought to you by Lovehoney’s Halloween range! Thanks to Lovehoney for sending me a piece to try. Grab yours now – with one day delivery, it’ll be here in time for the party! Affiliate links are contained within this post and purchasing through them sends a small commission my way.

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

Masturbation Monday: “On the Prowl”

A "support me on Patreon" buttonThis is an experimental piece, unlike the erotica I usually write. Let me know in the comments what you think! And if you love my work, please consider supporting me on Patreon to get some bonus content and awesome perks.

A pair of black cat ears on a headband. For a Masturbation Monday post called 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.

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Image is by me.

Masturbation Monday: “Tired”

A painting of two women close up, the front one wearing a black collar. For a masturbation Monday post called TIred.“I’m so tired.”

“I know, Sweetheart.”

My poor girl. She’s worked so many hours this week and I know her mental health is kicking her ass too. Tonight is all about her – I’ve made her favourite dinner, and now we’re sharing a bottle of wine and watching a silly comedy show. I might be her Dom (don’t fucking call me a Domme, ever) but to me, that means taking care of her is the most important job I have.

She snuggles up to me on the couch, resting her head in my lap. “Miss?”

I brush a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “Mmm?”

“Could I have a spanking? I think it would help.”

I think about it for a moment. Does it feel safe to play with her when she’s in this vulnerable space? But she’s an adult and she knows what she needs. We both say that kink isn’t therapy, but it can be therapeutic. I look at her adorable, exhausted face and I feel like I know exactly what type of session she needs.

“Of course, darling. Get your sexy butt over my lap”.

She stands and wriggles out of her jeans, then tosses her boy-short knickers aside too. I love the way she looks in just a t-shirt, naked from the waist down. She crawls up beside me on the sofa and positions herself over my lap.

I run a hand over her ass and watch her tremble. I give her a couple of very gentle swats to warm her up. The goal of this spanking isn’t to hurt her, but to give her the catharsis and emotional safety she needs. I spank her a little harder, first one cheek then the other, and watch her perfect pert ass jiggle. She moans, lifting her ass up to meet the blows, and I know I’ve found the sweet spot.

“That’s my good girl,” I tell her, pausing to stroke her lower back. I up the intensity again, just a little. “Such a good girl, taking her spanking for me”. She lets out a noise that might be a moan of pleasure or might be a purr of contentment at the praise. I choose to read it as both and continue my rhythmic slapping of her ass.

She’s squirming on my lap now, and I can smell her arousal. God, I love the smell of her cunt when she’s turned on. I contemplate reaching between her legs to finger her, but decide to let her squirm for a little while longer.

Her ass is looking nice and red. “My good, brave girl,” I tell her. And she is. I’m so proud of her. This might seem like a weird way to show it, but my dominance and her submission is how love is expressed between us.

My right hand keeps up the spanking, first one ass cheek then the other. My left slips under her and finds her cunt. She’s dripping. I knew she would be. I stroke the soft, wet folds of her labia, teasing her, and run my fingers through her curly patch of pubic hair. Her wriggling on my lap intensifies. She mewls when I brush her clit, which is very erect. I begin to rub it in circles in the way I know she likes. Her moans and whimpers are music to my ears.

“My beautiful little slut,” I murmur, rubbing her harder. She can’t control her reactions, and knowing this gets me as wet as she is. I love reducing her to a squirmy, wet mess with just my hands and my voice.

“Miss…” she gasps. I spank each butt cheek again while my fingers continue their dance on her clit.

“Yes?” I prompt.

“Miss, please can I come?”

She asks for permission, because it turns us both on, but she knows that I usually give it. Seeing her come is one of my favourite things in the whole world. Plus, usually allowing her makes it much sweeter and less predictable when I do deny her and edge her for a few days without release.

“Yes, my girl, you can come.”

My word is all she needs. She gushes, soaking my hand and the lap of my jeans. She cries out as she comes. When she collapses, spent, I see that there is a single tear on her cheek. I know I have given her the emotional release she needed.

I stroke her hair. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed. My tired girl needs her rest.”

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

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday plus other fun perks every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image sourced through Pixabay.

 

Masturbation Monday: “The Patterned Carpet”

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

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.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday plus other fun perks every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image is by Zen Nudist AKA Kilted Wookie, and was first published here.

 

Masturbation Monday: “Words Words Words”

A woman's breast just out of the water in a bubble bath with erotic words written on it.There aren’t many rules in our dynamic. My Sir is pretty laid back and isn’t really interested in micromanaging me or placing so many restrictions upon me that I’m bound to trip over one or another. One of the rules I do have to follow, though, is this: I’m not allowed to talk negatively about myself.

I’m so sick of this fucking thesis. I’ve been battling it for weeks and every time I think I’ve beaten it into some form of shape, I find something else wrong with it that needs fixing. I sigh and shut my laptop with a click. Put my head in my hands on the desk. Across the room, Sir spins around in his chair to look at me.

“You okay, Kitten?”

“I can’t do this!” I blurt out. “Just… I can’t. I’m too fucking stupid to do this. Why did I think I could?” Fuck. It takes me a second to realise I’ve broken the rule.

“Kitten…” his voice has a note of warning in it. I almost no longer care.

“What? It’s true”.

He pushes back from the desk and stands. “Come upstairs with me. Now”. Shit. I follow him meekly. In the bedroom, he tells me to take off my clothes and lie face up on the bed. My mind starts to race as I strip off. What’s he going to do? I was expecting possibly a spanking, but he clearly has something else in mind. That’s when I notice he’s got his favourite fountain pen in his hand.

He straddles me on the bed, his knees either side of my thighs. He’s still fully dressed. He pops the cap off the pen.

“Keep still,” he tells me.

“Sir?”

“I’m sick of you putting yourself down. Obviously punishing you hasn’t worked, so we’re going to try something else. Don’t move. If you squirm and make me mess up, I will punish you”.

The pen makes contact with my stomach first, just below my belly button. It tickles. I squeak but manage not to move. He’s writing something. I can’t tell what. Higher up my stomach, he writes something else. Then he leans over and adorns each of my breasts with yet more words. Down both my arms, along my collarbone, along the tops of my thighs.

He shifts position and uses one of his legs to make me spread mine. I resist the temptation to grind my cunt into his knee. His hand so close to my cunt that it brushes against the outer lips, I can feel myself growing wet. He writes something on my inner thigh. And just like that, this tiny bit of non-stimulation is all I get and he’s pushed my legs back together and is writing something on my lower abdomen. The whole thing probably takes less than five minutes, though it feels like much longer. He sits back and replaces the pen cap.

“Now go and look in the mirror”.

I hop up and cross over to the full-length mirror in the wardrobe door. For the first time, I see the words he’s written all over my body in his beautiful handwriting.

Beautiful. Capable and competent. Imperfect perfection. Talented. Kind. Funny. Sexy. Cute. Gorgeous. Smart. I feel tears starting to prickle in my eyes.

I part my legs to see what he wrote on my inner thigh, close to my cunt. The word is backwards in the reflection but there is no mistaking what it says, his favourite of all the words he uses about me: MINE. The first tear spills over.

He comes over and brushes the tear from my cheek. “Don’t cry, Kitten. You’re going to stand there for fifteen minutes and feast your eyes upon your gorgeous body with the way I see you written all over it. Then I’m going to bend you over and fuck you while you read them all back to me”.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week. Featured image is the utterly gorgeous Livvy and was first published as “Erotica“.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday plus other fun perks every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

 

Masturbation Monday: The Wedding

[For today’s Masturbation Monday, I was given the prompt “ex’s wedding.” Okay then! The set up is kind of long, but I hope the sexy pay-off is worth it.]

A room and table setting for wedding reception. For a Masturbation Monday post about an ex's weddingI didn’t want to go to this fucking wedding. This is kind of out of character for me, as normally I love weddings. I’m usually the first one to cry at the speeches and the last one still on the dance-floor at the end of the night. But who the fuck wants to see their ex get married? And most especially who wants to see the ex who cheated on them get married to a 5’11” blonde marathon runner?

As well as my ex, though, Sam is also the son of my parents’ oldest friends. And it’s not like I still have feelings for him. (She says, trying to convince herself). We were over years ago. So here I am, uncomfortable in my too-tight green dress, bored out of my mind, and taking full advantage of the open bar.

I’ve been glancing over at her all day. Pixie-cut dark hair, curves to die for, the swish of that floaty emerald dress every time she moves… I don’t know who she is but she’s definitely my type. She’s sitting on her own right now, nursing a glass of champagne and with a forced smile on her face as she watches the dancing. Yep. Time to make a move.

“Hi, I’m Rob. What’s your name?” She jumps as though startled from a reverie. Close up, I can appreciate the soft hazel of her eyes. She smiles. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!”

Well, hello! Even in my funk, I can see that this man is attractive. The grey suit looks good on him and contrasts nicely with the artfully unshaven face and dark ponytail.

“Hi Rob. I’m Sophie”.

Without being invited, he plonks himself down in the seat next to me. “I fucking hate these things, don’t you?” he asks.

“Normally I love weddings, but…” I trail off. Reign it in, Soph! I sip from my champagne. I must have drunk a hundred quid’s worth of the stuff today already, fucking hell.

“How do you know the happy couple?” he asks. God, this is such cliched wedding talk it’s not even funny. And there was me thinking he might be coming over to hit on me.

“Sam and I used to go out,” I find myself saying.

“No kidding. Ex’s wedding? That’s rough.”

I shrug. “Eh, it’s no big deal, really. Our parents are friends. We grew up together. Went out from when we were fifteen until we were twenty-two. He cheated on me. I don’t blame him. We weren’t right for each other in the long run”.

She looks surprised at herself, as if she didn’t mean to blurt out the whole story. I feel for her, of course. I know something of how she feels. Caitlyn invited me to her wedding two years ago, and I tore the invitation into a dozen pieces before I’d allowed myself to even consider going. No point torturing yourself, after all.

I watch Sophie sip her champagne. Her hands – I always have a thing for hands – are beautiful. Long fingers and perfect skin contrasts with the unmanicured nails. I allow myself, just for a moment, to think about how those fingers would feel wrapped around my cock.

Her eyes meet mine as she catches me looking. Apart from a thin rim of eyeliner, I notice she’s not wearing any makeup. There’s no doubt about it, this girl – this woman – is gorgeous.

She drains her glass and sets it down on the table. Fixes me with a penetrating stare. “Want to get out of here?” she asks.

“I… what?” He looks as though he’s not sure he has heard me correctly.

“You just said you hate weddings, and I’m sick of watching the man I always assumed I would marry arm-in-arm with Perfect Fucking Tiffany, telling everyone about their Perfect Fucking Honeymoon to the beautiful tropical islands of wherever. Why are we torturing ourselves? Want to go bang in my hotel room?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol giving me bravery, or maybe it’s the shitty day I’ve had. I don’t know and right now, I don’t care. All I know is that me and this beautiful man could have a much nicer time in the privacy of my Super Deluxe Plus room – a treat to myself in exchange for sitting through this stupid wedding.

Rob opens his mouth and then closes it again. He’s surprised. To tell you the truth, I’m surprised at myself. I watch his face and, in the five seconds it takes him to reply, convince myself that he’s going to laugh and brush me off.

“You’re sweet, but I’ve got a girlfriend”. “It’s a nice offer, but I prefer to move slowly”. “You’re attractive, but you’re not my type”.

Instead, he grins broadly at me and says, “okay!”

We sneak out of the ballroom like teenagers sneaking around behind their parents’ backs. Not that anyone is paying any attention to us at all. She takes my hand and leads me down the long corridor to the stairs, then up one floor, then along another corridor until we stop outside her room. Number 70.

“I wish it had been one number lower,” she says, with a mischievous raise of an eyebrow. She slips her key card in the lock, stands back to let me in, then clicks the door shut behind us. I flip the light on, and see she’s already fumbling with the zip on the back of that gorgeous dress. A second later, she drops it, steps out of it and kicks it to one side. And this woman I met not fifteen minutes ago is standing in front of me in just her cream lacy knickers – no bra. Fucking hell! However I thought tonight was going to go, this was not on the cards at all. 

“What do you want?” I ask her. She steps forward, reaches up her hands to loosen my tie – which she does clumsily, probably as a result of all the champagne – and presses her lips to mine. Inside the tight suit trousers my cock, already at half-mast, springs fully to life. I kiss her back, sliding one hand around to the small of her back to pull her closer, and using the other to unbutton my shirt.

“I want you to fuck me,” I tell him. “None of that go down on me for half an hour first because you feel like you have to stuff, I hate that. Just fuck me”. I successfully get the tie loose enough to pull it off over his head, and he slips out of his shirt too and tosses it aside. His chest is perfect: not too muscular, covered in dark hairs. I run my hand through it and then kiss him again.

I slide my hand down and unbutton his trousers. Slipping my fingers into them and under the waistband of his boxers, I can feel that his cock is fully hard already. I stroke it a few times as we make out, listening appreciatively to the way that he moans, adjusting the speed and pressure according to his reactions. Somehow, we move together until we’re by the big King bed, and he pushes me gently towards it. It’s not really a shove – I could easily keep my balance if I wanted to. But I let myself fall backwards onto the bed, wanting him on top of me, wanting him inside me.

In a second, he sheds the trousers and underwear and pounces on me again. He kisses me harder, and one hand moves between my legs and presses firmly against my cunt. The flimsy lace of my knickers is already soaking. He rubs my clit experimentally a few times. The sensation is nice, but I’ve never been much of a clitoral girl – I really just want things inside me. Fingers, toys, cocks. That’s how I get off.

“Put your fingers in me,” she moans. Well, okay then! I do love having sex with a woman who knows what she likes and can give clear instructions. I hook my fingers under the elastic of her knickers and she obligingly lifts her ass so I can peel them off. A shame, really, as she looked so pretty in them – but underneath, her cunt is even more beautiful. The curly wisps of black pubic hair are so inviting.

She parts her legs more, inviting me in. I thrust two fingers inside her, marveling at how wet and ready she already is. I slide them slowly in and out while she writhes beneath me, face and chest flushed, beads of sweat already appearing on her brow.

Finding her G-spot, I press my fingers against it. Gently at first – I’ve been with women who found hard thrusting painful. I rub it with my two fingers and watch her reaction.

“Harder…” she moans. I increase the speed and pressure, until I’m properly fucking her with my fingers. Her perfect fingers clutch a handful of the sheet and she throws her head back.

“Going to come…!”

I double down on my efforts. She lets out of half moan, half yelp of pleasure and I feel her cunt tense around my fingers, squeezing them. Her whole body relaxes as I slowly withdraw them. I notice there’s a wet spot on the sheet beneath her. So she’s a gusher.

“Oh, fuck yeah, that was good,” I murmur, catching my breath. I pull him in to kiss me. “Want to fuck me? I’m ready for your cock now”. The beautiful thing about being multi-orgasmic is that the first one just makes me hungry for more.

“Oh hell yes. Do you have a condom?” he asks. So responsible! I love it when they bring it up first and I don’t have to ask (/beg/plead/cajole) them to wrap it up.

“Nightstand. Top drawer.”

I hear the telltale rustling of a packet. A moment later, he’s positioned back between my legs, cock still fully hard and now coated in latex.

“You want this?” he asks, teasing my entrance. Oh yes, I fucking want this. In answer, I bring my hips up to meet him. In one thrust, he’s inside of me. I gasp at the exquisite pleasure, my cunt already sensitive from the orgasm just moments ago.

He fucks me perfectly. Long, slow thrusts at first, building up to hard and fast pounding. It takes less than a minute for me to come again, and then again, around his cock. He moans each time I come, and I wonder if the muscles of my cunt are squeezing him hard enough to add to his pleasure too. I hope so.

God, her cunt feels incredible. I’m not going to last long at this rate! I marvel at the ability of the vulva to produce orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. Is there a limit to how much she can come? I feel the trickle of fluid each time she does, and am sure the mattress beneath us is soaked by now.

As I feel her cunt spasm with the fifth (sixth? I’ve lost count) orgasm, I start to feel the telltale build up of pressure, my pleasure reaching towards its climax.

“You feel so fucking good,” I tell her. “I’m not going to be able to hold off much longer.”

“Come in me,” she tells me, a blissful smile on her face. Her short hair is now sticking to her face with sweat. 

That does it. The invitation, her eagerness for it, pushes me over the edge. I press my lips to hers again, kissing her hard as my own orgasm pulses through my whole body. Damn. I haven’t come this hard in a long time.

I love the moment where they come in me. Watching a man’s pleasure as he surrenders to it and loses control, knowing it’s me who has had that effect on him… it’s intoxicating.

I don’t love so much what usually comes next. The extricating of bodies, the quick dressing, the awkward goodbye at the door, the do I give him my number or will that seem too needy? calculation. I love casual sex, but sometimes I’d like to feel like the men I fuck care about me after they’ve come as well.

“Will you stay for a bit?” I ask Rob, aware that I now sound very different from the confident girl who invited him to – what was it? – bang in my hotel room an hour ago. “I wouldn’t mind the company”.

He rolls over and grins at me, as if he’d just been waiting for the invitation. “Want to cuddle and watch crap TV and order room service? I think we missed dessert and I could murder a massive slice of cheesecake right now.”

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

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction with #BonusSmutTuesday plus other fun perks every single week by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image sourced through Pixabay.