Modern life is busy, we all know that. Sometimes a quick wake-up shag, an opportunistic quickie, or a tired, end-of-day, semi-somnolent fumble and snuggle with benefits is all we have the time and energy to manage. There is nothing wrong with these; quick, time limited sex can still be great and is almost certainly better than none, but it is definitely nice, sometimes, to be able to devote considerably more time and effort to the proceedings
Q1. Assuming you have no time constraints, what would your ‘ideal’ experience be like?
When I think of sex as simply a physical act, rough and hard come to mind. Add in a struggle, a few ‘fuck you’s’, plus a face slap, and I’m happy. But when I think of it as a concept, removed from the violence of primal fucking, my mind takes an entirely different path.
It meanders rather than races, enjoying the scenery, capturing moments in my mind’s eye, transmuting them into sensual memories to be savoured at leisure whenever I find my mind wandering that way again.
It’s a blindfold and lingering touches that skim sensitive skin.
It’s licks and nibbles, threats of bites that never materialise, but still cause my cunt to ache.
It’s fingers which take a slow path down my body as fevered kisses consume my moans.
It’s feeling his cock stiffen in my hand, after he’s placed it there, as I cry out as a result of a menacing bluff.
It’s a hand that rests, then presses gently, on my clit, it’s trying to desperately grind against that hand, yet the hand moves with me, compounding delicious frustration as I whimper from pleasure denied.
It’s knowing, even through my blindfolded eyes, the look which adorns his face.
It’s that almost painful desperation to get off, it’s whoring myself as he tells me that if I want it, I have to beg.
It’s a hand placed firmly over my mouth right before I struggle to say the words.
It’s his words, ‘Sorry, what was that?’ as he mocks my attempts to speak.
It’s the pure torture as he rests the tip of his cock on my clit, sliding it back and forth over it, at first gently, then with greater force, demanding I grind against him, against his cock.
It’s the agonising build of the orgasm, praying that he doesn’t deny me that release.
It’s the words ‘good slut’ as I frig myself on his cock, it’s the firmness in his voice as he says ‘are you going to come for me?’ as I frantically nod, his hand still pressed forcibly against my mouth.
It’s that exploding white light as the orgasm crests, the serene softening of the muscles as tension is swept from my body.
It’s him, then, burying himself balls deep in my cunt, it’s being able to offer no resistance as he makes love to me, taking ownership of me, rocking, my legs wrapping around him, wanting all of him, needing all of him, my cunt not wanting to relinquish hold each time he withdraws.
It’s feeling his body tense, his cock spasm, as he empties himself inside me.
It’s holding onto him as the emotion of the exchange surfaces, and I’m overwhelmed.
It’s the word, ‘mine’, that he softly repeats to sooth me with, as we lie, still conjoined.
Q2. When you are in the mood, do you have any seduction ploys that you like to use?
Hmm, no, not really.
I’m very reluctant to initiate sex(partially, but not completely down to my submissive nature), fear of rejection is just too high, so the art of seduction is not something in which I am very well versed. *So much of my perception of self worth is tied up in being desired, that a knock back sounds too much like being another internally monologued argument for being unwanted.
I wish I had the confidence to seduce, to don sexy lingerie, crawl to him, nuzzle my face against his crotch, ask him to fuck me, tell him that I need him to take ownership of what is his.
*just a caveat there, I’m not entitled to his body, neither do I consider myself entitled to it. He’s allowed to say no! A no would play on my mind in an unhealthy way, BUT I would never, and have never, used that as a reason to manipulate him into sex.
Q3. What do you like to do to prolong the pleasure for both you and your partner?
There was a time when human touch was something I couldn’t handle. I wanted to be hurt and fucked, then left the fuck alone.
These days I crave it, from him anyway. I love his hand resting on my face, or his fingers lazily stroking my skin. When that happens during sex, I don’t want it to stop, wanting the orgasm to hold off so that I may remain lost in the sensations a little while longer. I selfishly want him to continue to explore, to keep me there, in that moment, with him, for as long as possible.
In terms of prolonging his pleasure, I think that he’d likely agree that I’m a tease. A tongue lightly circling the tip of his cock, a finger running slowly up and down it’s length, purring, a sly smile on my face, as he moans, and calls me a teasing bitch. Maybe I don’t touch his cock at all, running my nails up the inside of his thigh, stopping short of where I know he wants my hand to be.
Having that illusion of control is thrilling, especially knowing he could turn the tables at any moment when/if the teasing became too much, forcing my mouth onto his cock with a hand roughly placed on the back of my head, or flipping me over to just fuck me, punishment for being such a blatant tease.
No orgasms for you, smug bitch.