Fuck.
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Publicado en:12 Marzo 2024 2:56 pm
Última actualización en:27 Abril 2024 1:41 am 2040 vistas
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I dreamt about you again last night…
Probably because I’m reading another reverse harem smut novel where the male main characters lose their minds with lust watching the female lead get railed by different cocks, and you always loved having me be a whore for you.
It was such a good dream…You showed back up, randomly (like you always do) and immediately took over my life (again). Only this time I was allowed to be close to you. Next to you. To touch you and taste you like you were real. This time there wasn’t an urgency like you were going to disappear into smoke at any moment.
This time, you were going to be mine like I’ve always been yours.
Fuck.
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It's not about sex
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Publicado en:12 Marzo 2024 2:09 pm
Última actualización en:15 Marzo 2024 11:16 pm 1937 vistas
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I used to love whoring and slutting around. There wasn’t anything quite as fun as finding a new cock to play with – I was always thrilled at how fast I could get a guy hard and how hard I could make him cum with my mouth or my cunt. Fucking was the only time I felt genuinely confident in my 20’s.
A lot of that came down to Kevin. I belonged to Kevin (on and off) for over a decade. He was my first D/s relationship, and his primary focus and kink was whoring me out. He loved having me be an absolute filthy fucking slut for him, and the confidence and power I felt in that role over time was incredible. Through him, I learned how much power a woman could have in herself by submitting to her own sexual desires. It wasn’t just that Kevin loved having me be a whore (as much as I wanted to think that was my sole purpose at the time), I fucking loved sex and I loved the attention and desire I felt from men in those moments.
I loved the strength and confidence I gained from their desire; it was a strength that lasted a lot longer than the encounter did, that’s for damn sure. I didn’t need their reassurance or their attention after. I didn’t need them after, period. I got my reassurance from Kevin. His praise and enthusiasm for my behavior reinforced the strength that I gained and reinforced my confidence in my skills. I didn’t have shit for confidence walking down the street or walking into a party to be around strangers, but the second I was presented with a hard cock, it was Game. Fucking. On. THAT I knew I could handle with perfect confidence, grace and skill. And I fucking relished every moan, groan, sigh, gasp, and trembling muscle from the man I was with.
In my 20’s, I was somewhere around 340-375lbs. I didn’t really get on a scale very often, so I honestly don’t know how much I actually weighed. What I do know, is that it was Kevin who taught me that my size didn’t preclude me from being desirable. When I moved to “the big city”, I had the opportunity for basically unlimited male attention, which was a first for me, having grown up in the middle of nowhere Nebraska. Kevin encouraged this exploration, but also gave me very distinct rules and boundaries (he’d more than learned by that time that I had no idea how to establish, let alone maintain, my own boundaries). He made me go to Planned Parenthood to get my birth control shot. He “gave me permission” to tell guys to fuck off if they didn’t want to use protection for sex; I could ‘blame my Owner’ if they were at all hesitant. Having all this attention from all these different guys, never having to go more than a few days without sex if I didn’t want to, god – it was fucking incredible! And in the background, was Kevin, telling me what a fantastic little whore I was.
When it came to being with Kevin, it was an even bigger reassurance. He told me once, during a moment of extreme insecurity, “I don’t give a shit what you look like, Lisa. What I care about is control.” I knew I could give him that better than anyone, the question was, did he actually mean it? The short answer is, abso-fucking-lutely. When my stunning beauty of a roommate (who’d played with Kevin over the phone and online multiple times) joined us one night, I figured it was going to be game over for us. She was a knock-out compared to me and way better at everything sexual than I could ever dream of being. He was choking her with his dick and she freaked because he wouldn’t let her control the pace or how far down her throat his cock went. She jumped up and took off out of the room to go smoke a bowl and calm down and he called me over. Despite her naked self standing mere feet from him, perky ass and tits on full display, he was totally soft. The second I put his dick in my mouth and let him choke me to his hearts content, he was rock hard and having the time of his life.
She eventually came back to the kitchen table where he was sitting while I sucked him off, and I remember feeling an unbelievable surge of pride as he praised me, telling me what a good girl I was, how much he loved choking me and making me cry, how pretty my tears were. And when he finally came in my mouth, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that for some men…it really is all about control.
And I was officially hooked. That was all I wanted from that moment on, and to a large extent, it’s still all I want. Especially when it comes to any type of D/s dynamic. I don’t fucking care about the sex, whips or chains…I want the man who gets rock hard simply because I love to obey, to give up as much control as possible. I want the guy who gets off leaving me a list of chores to do in the morning and is way more turned on by me having completed the whole list plus some, then having to “punish me” because I failed to do those tasks. I want the guy who’s dick goes soft because a girl tells him ‘no’ (and he would never dream of pushing her beyond that ‘no’), but he gets hard as steel, instantly, because where someone else says ‘no’, I say ‘yes please and thank you’.
I don’t need gymnastics and props…they can’t do anything nearly as good as a hand in my hair and a deep voice whispering in my ear.
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Dear Big Dicks
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Publicado en:12 Marzo 2024 1:51 pm
Última actualización en:23 Abril 2024 11:01 pm 2930 vistas
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Hello stranger,
I see from the unsolicited picture you sent that you have a big cock. You’re obviously very impressed with it; so much so that you felt you simply *had* to share it with a woman you’ve never met!
Oh…it’s…it’s not just me?
You show it off to every woman you message?
I see.
Just out of curiosity – how’s that been working out for you? Do you get a lot of responses? Are the majority of women falling all over themselves, clamoring for a chance to climb your cock like squirrels up a tree? Or are the majority replying with varying forms of “fuck off”? Are you simply a very confused emotional masochist? By that I mean, do you purposely engage in inappropriate behavior on a social media platform, with the goal being “verbal” (i.e., written) humiliation and degradation by anonymous women? Do you realize there are literally thousands of women who would humiliate and degrade you live and in person, if you could just keep your pet snake tucked away until she asked to see it?
Maybe you’re not a confused, emotional masochist…maybe you’re King Cock. Oh lord…I’ve met you and pretty much every single version of yourself you’ve ever invented. All hail the King…no, seriously. I want to rain down stones upon your head. Both your heads.
For you, I have a couple of legitimate questions. First, how the hell did you come to the conclusion that having a big dick and being “dominate” were synonymous? Second, did you know that if your partner was actually turned on and adequately aroused, even your big dick probably wouldn’t give her much pause when you slid it inside? Oh, I know...All your partners have told you how much your “Big Daddy Dick” hurts…News flash, your Majesty, even a small cock hurts like hell when it’s being rammed into a cunt that’s as dry as the Mojave. A big dick doesn’t make you dominant or make you a great lay. You’ve used “Big Cock” status to skate through your entire sexual life, under the mistaken impression that bringing a fat prick to the party was more than adequate and you didn’t need to do anything else…just lay back and cum. Welcome to the grown-up world, kiddo. Big dicks are a dime a dozen and I can go get one that never gets soft, vibrates, and actually knows where my clit is…and it’s sparkly and neon pink. Your big dick is officially replaceable.
All joking aside - I’m not a size queen and I never have been. Telling me about your massive cock is actually the number one thing you can do to make me immediately loose interest. If your best personality trait is swinging between your legs, you’ve got a whole host of issues I don’t wanna touch with a 10-foot pole and someone else’s hand.
In my experience there are 2 types of Big Dick Dudes:
1. Little Dicky Dickerson from Dickmenot Lane – Great big dick hanging from a small-minded, angry, egotistical, narcissistic asshole. This dude is a walking red flag, not just for kink, but for any type of vanilla relationship, too. Google search “gaslighting bastard” and his picture will probably pop up. He’s watched more than enough porn to know that having a big dick means he’s vastly superior to all other men and that women are supposed to fall to their knees and worship him, and he’s completely baffled as to why this isn’t happening. This jackass is one consent violation away from a prison sentence and will most likely never understand why his big dick didn’t win him any favors with the judge.
2. John Smith – unassuming, down to earth, generally a nice guy. He could literally be anyone…the super funny guy at work, the hot instructor at your gym, a smart-assed, tattooed bartender you’ve been eyeing *forever*…the point is, his dick is *NEVER* a topic of conversation, even on a place like this. He might be a sub, switch, dom, primal, whatever…he still doesn’t use his dick to try and get attention. He’s only going to bring up the size of his cock if he’s planning to fuck you and had trouble getting 2 fingers inside your pussy and that’s just to help you mentally prepare for the amount of work he’s about to put into prepping your cunt to accommodate his size. He doesn’t need to brag…his partners are happy to do it for him.
Dicks, or really sex in general, is like anything else in life – the people who talk the loudest about how amazing they are, tend to be the ones I do my best to avoid. No one who’s “that good” has to sing their own praises.
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