All About the Base

Disclaimer: This post contains graphic descriptions and imagery. If that kind of thing makes your teeth itch, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Plus, as ever, you always have the choice of stopping reading, and moving on. Although I daresay that if you’re anything like me, it will be as compelling as a road accident, and you won’t be able to stop. So you can stop now. Or not. Up to you. ED x 😀

Anal sex. We’ve all been there, some more successfully than others.

When it’s good, whoa mama, it is GOOOOOOOD. I have recently discovered that I can achieve orgasm simply through any of a variety of anal stimulation, including the ultimate – the ass-fuck.

When it’s bad, it’s utterly awful. And painful – not even in the fun way, either.

But back to when it’s good.

The wonderful man whom I am honoured and delighted to sleep with on a regular basis, is a bit of a fan of the bumfuck. And being that he is also adorably bisexual (it’s a thing about me, all the great loves of my life have been bi), the bumfuck can and often does extend both ways. (Double-ended dildos FTW. Wahoo!)

I find that it takes a while to warm up, so to speak. I don’t mean that initial moment as we both pause, waiting for the inner muscles to relax and allow him access. I mean that the second, or usually the third time it happens, there is a smoothness to the rhythm and what I can only describe as a glide-iness that makes the whole thing really enjoyable. So much so that it’s worth the slight discomfort of the first time or so.

Also, the orgasms, oh, the orgasms — holy mother of pearl. As any sexually enlightened woman knows, there is a difference between a clitoral orgasm and a G-spot orgasm. For me, at least, the clitoral orgasm takes longer, and results in a prolonged earth-shaker that leaves me temporarily spent. It also sometimes manifests as a multiple, and when it does, “temporarily” takes on quite a different meaning. 😉 A G-spot orgasm, however, takes less time, is no less enjoyable, and often results in a tsunami-like effect, which, try as I might and practice my Kegels as I do, I have yet to make projectile. (Give me time, it’ll happen.) It feels very different, though. Not so much less intense as coming from a different place. Somewhere deep inside. Somewhere more carnal, if ethereal.

Of course, the noise I make when achieving both types of orgasm is fairly similar. 😉

But then there is the orgasm achieved by mere anal penetration. The second time we met, the man and I, this happened. Using a finger (or possibly two). Just there, nowhere else. An experience new to us both — and one which he wanted to repeat, although this time, using something other than his finger.

He has waxed lyrical on’t for weeks and weeks — and then today it happened.

Suffice it to say that the two of us have spent the day feeling all float-y, and grinning like morons.

😀

Footnote: Apropos of nothing other than it’s about sodding time — just to mention how happy I am at the decision of the US Supreme Court to recognize gay marriage.

Or as I like to call it, marriage.

Be Careful What You Wish For

To him:

If you were under the misapprehension that I don’t think about you a lot, I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong.

To me:

Tell me what you want me to do.

To him:

Be careful what you wish for.

I’m going to indulge your perverted brain, and tell you exactly what I want you to do.

The first thing is the anticipation. When you first see me, you can’t stop yourself from gathering me close, even as you somehow manage to resist kissing me with all the passion and the animalism that you suppress within. And as you hold your body against mine, I can feel you prodding, digging, pushing into my thigh. While the top half of you holds me captive, keeping me at bay, watching me panting with desire, your lower half betrays that said desire is very much shared.

Now show me. I love how proud you are of your physique, how you take every opportunity to show off that cute butt, and wiggle your manhood in my direction. Not that you taunt, rather that you flaunt. You preen. You strut. Like a peacock on a mission from god — and we both know what the real purpose of that mission is.

What comes next happens in the order of your own choosing; over which you allow me no control, and which shimmies and shimmers between various activities.

Will you slide yourself into my mouth?

Will you lubricate me with my own juices and explore the hot and wet cave that quivers at the merest touch of you?

Will you use an external lubricant, and penetrate me in that most intimate of places, owning and possessing me at your will, reducing me to a moaning and shuddering mass of girl-flesh?

You know exactly what I want you to do.

And when.

And how.

And each time, I love it more.