It’s less than 24 hours since the last fuck but I still need some more good hard dick. This guy is at least in the area and I’m working from home. No-one will notice I’m not online for half an hour right?

Fuck, he’s much better looking in the flesh: neatly trimmed beard, freckles and piercing blue eyes. And a shirt and tie. I love a shirt and tie even if it’s a work uniform.

I’m gushing over him, I can tell. I’m away for the weekend and he’s already offered me a lift there.

We leave and walk the short journey back to mine.

As we go upstairs he grabs my ass and I feel my knickers go wet.

He’s wearing flat fronted trousers, I undo his shirt buttons and his chest is revealed, a beautiful gorilla haired chest. I want to put my face in it. Meanwhile he is undoing my shirt and pushing me back onto the bed.

I literally blink and he is now naked standing over me pushing his cock into my mouth. Maybe he is saying things but I am being used as a fuck toy at this point so my brain is spliced. I feel tears running down my cheeks as he pushes me into positions and throat fucks me, roughly. Is this too much? I can feel his fingers in my pussy and hear how wet it is. So maybe it’s what I like, what I need. He calls me a lot of things – filthy little slut is one of them. I giggle.

He doesn’t want to go down on me, he wants to fuck me. I give him a condom and he flips it on then teases me. I climb on top and he tells me to go for it. As soon as he slides in we can both tell it’s a good fit. His eyes widen and he tells me he’s coming back for more in the future. He tries to pump me from underneath and I tell him to slow down. I ride him but know I’m not gonna come so easily. Until he licks his fingers and plays with my clit. Oh my. He’s a royal fuckboy, goes straight to the top of my list.

He kneads and bites my tits and I ride him harder, properly grinding him and come within a few minutes. He’s slower and follows me a while later.

He agrees to call by later and give me a lift to the coast.

—

It’s about 10 mins before I need to leave before catching the train. He tells me he can’t make it back in time to give me a lift. Who cares anyway, would have been an awkward ride down.

A few hours later I realise he’s blocked me on the site. What a dick.

A day later I wonder why my throat hurts so much. Filthy little slut.

Both of us have been drinking and we end up meeting later than I’d have liked. But my run of being sensible has ended in a flaming glory of hormones and lust.

Earlier in the day we’d wound each other up so much that I ended up wanking on a business webinar (audio only but I covered up my camera just in case) but only edged myself to frustration not orgasm.

No, I don’t fancy him on sight but I want to be fucked.

We get back to mine and are all over each other. He’s got soft wet lips and we kiss well together. He smells great too. We move upstairs. And kiss a lot more.

So when I run my hand over his trousers and find very little there I’m a little disappointed. I’m no size queen but I do like a girth. He’s promised me a massage and I’m stressed like a monkey who can’t get hold of bananas so I’m game with bells on.

He’s brought some jojoba oil with him which is new one on me so I lie on my front as he tells me, still with knickers on.

He starts by dripping oil over my back, and massaging it in. He’s still got trousers on at this point. I can’t stop groaning as even I can feel how smooth and sexy my body is with a light coating and his hands all over me. Sometimes his hands stray underneath and massage my boobs, and sometimes the inner thigh. I push back and have my bum in the air craving him to touch me there. He takes the oil and drips it in the small of my back. And then takes off my knickers. Massages my butt cheeks and cheekily smoothed his hands underneath. It’s driving me wild.

Once all the oil is rubbed in he tells me to turn over. Now his cock is exposed I can see it’s small: and he doesn’t want me to touch it, pushing my hands away. And then he goes down on me.

Oh my goodness I am in the hands of a pro here. He seems to know exactly what I want and how I tick. I come immediately, and then around 10 minutes later due to his mouth and fingers working in tandem. It’s a welcome return of my orgasm skills. I ask if I can return the favour and guide his cock into my mouth. Oddly he has no reaction – it doesn’t grow harder, he doesn’t groan, in fact it’s like he doesn’t actually want it.

I ask him to fuck me, he tells me he’d rather make me come again. Which I guess isn’t as selfish as the average guy. We end up in an awkward 69 position but I have to keep pulling him off my pussy as his stubble is somehow causing too much friction and my clit is now on fire.

He kneels beside me and pumps into my mouth, during which, worryingly I can simultaneously smell something that smells like his feet and his ass. His balls hang down and bang against my cheek. But he’s done.

Off he goes into the night. I’m exhausted, and still somehow missing something.

I know right? I could just end the blog here and mic drop. Every woman’s fantasy.

We meet for a coffee around the corner during which I learn three things:

1. He’s a lot fucking hotter than his pictures

2. He is a gentleman and buys the drinks

3. He is wearing drawstring jogging bottoms and they are undone

At numbers 1 and 3 I am a hot mess.

We chat for maybe 10 minutes and I ask if he wants to come back. He almost stands up before I’ve finished the sentence.

Back at mine he stands in front of me and puts his phone and keys on my dresser. I make a joke about his trousers and he replies “ready for action”.

We kiss and I can tell already this is going to be insanely good. He’s slow and sensual, not fast and furious. There’s no prodding and poking of my body, it’s respectful and soft. Just a hand around my waist and bum. I undo my top and he handles my breast with care, pulling them out and kicking the nipples : I can’t stop shivering from his touch. We get onto the bed and he pulls off my trousers, peeling them like a banana. And then there are kisses all over my thighs. A trail of kisses from my neck down to my knickers. It’s a long long time since anyone has done anything like that.

His body is like marble or alabaster. Defined chest, thin waist and athletic legs. His cock stands proudly and I hold it, judging its girth. I don’t get long: he’s down between my legs in no time. And what a master he is. His face is buried into my pussy, lapping and nudging and teasing. I steer his head into the places I want him to go, it feels oddly sensual holding a shaved head for once . I come almost immediately. He’s delighted and climbs up my body again, kissing as he goes.

I love the taste of my pussy on someone else’s lips. It’s surely one of the hottest things about fucking right?

I pass him a condom and we manoeuvre into a missionary. It’s not quite right but everything about his cock filling me and his weight on top of me is enough. We switch a few times and he tells me he’s going to come. He’s pushing on top of me, kissing my neck and grunting a lot. He’d told me previously he hadn’t fucked for a while.

He pulls out and says “there’s a lot”. I look at the condom and he’s right. It’s more than a spoonful.

He asks for a shower and we both use the bathroom in an oddly intimate exchange.

Back in my room he dresses and then lies back on my bed joking he could fall asleep.

I half wish he would but I have to pack for a weekend away.

Later that evening he texts me : ” you’re so beautiful please can we do that again soon – I had a lot of fun 😊”

Reader. I hit the jackpot.

Or: How I was seduced by a member of a private club I hadn’t been to before.

We meet downstairs: he has to collect me at reception as non members aren’t allowed on the roof unescorted. He’s not bad looking, but I’m not overwhelmed with lust. I’ve also had a terrible day and definitely not on top form.

We get to the bar and he tells me he’s going to introduce me to the gang. Immediately I lose the plot – what is this place? I assume they are all swingers and “in the know” and they have to inspect me like some sort of cabal. I mean, I have a vivid imagination. I get intrigued to a phalanx of women by the pool (luckily not in swimwear it’s February) one who bears a tattoo of the club.

Am I in a movie? This place just doesn’t seem real. I feel like a dumpy imposter being allowed to look but don’t touch. He told me to bring a bikini but there is no way I’m getting in that pool.

We find a quiet place to sit and chat awkwardly. He does nothing to put me at ease and I really can’t tell the vibe here. We are maybe halfway through the glass of wine when he excuses himself for the loo.

He’s gone so long I am seriously considering leaving. I don’t look at a watch but it’s definitely more than 10 minutes. As he left a trio of power lesbians come and start smoking by our table. They actually look more fun. A woman comes over and starts chatting to me about the view and the sunset. It’s only I realise she’s one of the hostesses and I guess briefed to make me feel comfortable whilst I’m alone.

He returns and makes some apology for being so long. We’ve not even talked about sex or if we are going to have it. It’s almost like a business meeting. And then he shows me some pictures of his sex toys.

He’s a Dom – like most men claim to be these days, but uses interesting language. He says when he’s seeing someone he doesn’t play around. I’m unsure if this is an audition but I start to share some photos of me shibari- tied. The conversation hots up and he goes off for more drinks.

I’m now actually excited, he’s not my usual type but he seems legit. But this time he’s gone so long that the waiter brings the drinks. What the hell is going on?

He comes back and apologises: his son has fallen off his bike and he’s now got to go home. Wow. Talk about a brush off. We have full glasses of wine so I make to quaff it and he stops me.

We chat a bit further about what we are into but the vibe still doesn’t scream sex.

Eventually we go down to the lobby and I try not to look disappointed. And then…and then…he takes my fucking breath away by kissing me. Full tongue in my mouth stuff. Smooching on my neck, biting, pulling my hair. Holding my bum. What the hell?

He leaves by a different door to me and I get the train home.

Another one bites the dust I assume.

Next morning a message comes through “When can I see you again?”

I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s oddly chatty suddenly, has been looking for a new place to stay. I ask him if he needs my spare room – thinking that a lodger playing bills and fucking me is a good deal for both.

Sadly he finds somewhere closer to work but we arrange to fuck anyway.

It’s been a while but I’ve known him 3 years, probably my longest sex pal. He prowls in as usual, small talk about the house. And then he draws me into him like he always does.

This guy, the way we move together, is unlike anything I’ve ever had. He pushes me but is respectful. He challenges me to deep throat his beautiful Turkish cock, but can never actually handle it and then tells me to stop.

His eyes, the way he smells. Why is it always a rush? And why have I stopped being able to come with him?

His body has got looser with age even though he’s 10 years younger than me. I just keep looking at him and thinking how is this handsome guy fucking ME?

We take two rest breaks as it gets so hot – physically and mentally. He tells me he’s close and asks where to cum. I ask him to cum on my pussy and he obliges, but very quickly handing me tissues to clean up.

I contract a UTI a few days later. Don’t do it kids!

We’ve slept together a few times now, I know he’s active on the swinging scene and enjoys clubs. Last time he came over but forgot to get the equipment out of the car.

This visit I ask him to bring it in. He shows me the hogtie, it looks like an innocent collection of fabric, straps and metal. He tells me to undress completely and now I’m putty in his hands, a piece of meat.

As he fastens the Velcro around my wrists and ankles I feel myself get wetter. I’m pushed on the bed with wrists and ankles behind me fastened together. I’m gonna have to be careful not to lose my balance. He’s fingering me roughly with cold hands which I also have a kink for.

I had forgotten how much I liked being tied up and controlled. He grabs my tits and pinches them too hard. I’m simultaneously loving and hating it. He’s not going to give me his cock just yet. His fingers work my clit and I moan an awful lot.

He undresses now and I really want him inside me. A condom goes on and I almost dribble. I adore watching a guy expertly unroll and put one on. He teases and rubs it around my lips before plunging in. I collapse into a weird reverse crouch: being uncomfortable while he fucks me is my new jam. I can feel my wrists burning behind my back and one of my arms goes dead. It’s the biggest turn on I’ve had in ages – I’m actually unable to move and he has total control.

He can see I’m loving it. He nips my tits with his teeth and grins, grabbing my face with his hands.

Finally I can bear no more and ask him to take me out of the hogtie. I can barely speak and anyway he’s shoving his cock in my mouth so I can’t. He pumps his come down my throat while finger fucking my pussy, alternating with a few slaps.

For a few days after my wrists have tiny red dots like a rash. I don’t know it at the time but it’s actually the last time we meet – he’s now got a girlfriend. Lucky her.

Before you panic and think we’ve gone all serious, don’t worry. This is a SEXY year in review.

We’re been writing the blog now for five years. Some have been easier than others. Last year was particularly difficult to keep committed to writing due to a number of unconnected outside factors. We knuckled down as ever and spun tales of gold out of some dubious experiences. But we felt bad for you dear readers, we let you down.

We’re delighted to note that our Statscounter shows you’re still sticking with us, and after a dry summer of no sex our views and posts recovered to almost equal 2017.

But this isn’t why we’re writing; the blog has never been about likes, follows and viewing stats (although starting an Instagram page certainly enhanced things)

It’s always been about the sex. But it’s also intertwined with the number of people we’re having sex with.

We wanted to share some figures with you from the last few years. The number after the year is how many partners we had that year. Not number of f*&ks, but number of sexual partners.

2010-11 : 1

2012 : 2

2013: 10

2014: 9

2015: 16

2016: 9

2017: 19

2018: 10

You can see quite clearly that the blog starting in 2014 was a catalyst for more sex with more people. 2015 and 2017 perhaps the vintage years. 2017 was actually the most experimental too with four threesomes and many boundaries broken.

One thing we are really concerned about is the quality of the sex and the availability of men.

Let us explain.

In 90% of our experiences over the last year, the partner was either unable to stay erect, use a condom or even get hard. Outside of the bedroom even getting to that stage seemed harder with more and more men prolonging the arrangement to meet for weeks or even months.

Another worrying trend was the emergence of “kink” in the mainstream. For most of last year we experimented with dating apps – not for sex, for dates. With barely any success. Even on the most vanilla of apps – OK Cupid – we noticed “kinky” kept appearing more and more, so much so it actually became a turn off. On another seemingly vanilla app Hinge – we encountered an incredibly false dom seeking a sub. On POF we seemed to attract a guy hell bent on asking daily for pics of our asshole*

We also encountered some really dreadful specimens of male. Ones who asked us to lend them money (not for sex) before even meeting, ones who stood us up, ones who ghosted us even after arranging to meet. Most recently one who managed to insult us in the initial few texts.

Readers, are we alone? We’d love to hear your experiences too.

*no, of course we didn’t oblige.

I’m more than a little tipsy. A friend is in town from Germany and I don’t want to follow him into town when I’m so close to my ends. I make my excuses and leave the party, not really realising until the air hits me how much I’ve drunk.

It seems to be a good idea to phone one of the guys in my little black book: he’s been messaging me, is at a club and wants me to join him. I check and there are no tickets left. Damn, that would have been a lot of fun.

I try another guy who I haven’t met yet. He leaps at the chance. I order a drink at the bar and wait for him to join. Except he doesn’t – he’s driving and can’t park. I swallow another drink down and run to meet his car.

---

Back at mine we smoke, sitting side by side. He tells me about his swinging experiences and I grab his leg. I love listening to other people’s stories. Soon we are upstairs and he’s biting my chest, nuzzling my neck and grabbing me in all the right places. He’s got both nipples pierced and as we roll around I enjoy tonguing the tiny silver hoops. He leaps enthusiastically between my legs and with an expert tongue slides up and down my lips while fingering my clit. He knows what he’s doing. We try a 69 but he can’t sustain it. He’s soon making up for it by fingering my pussy with quite a vigorous pace. Very quickly I’m riding his dick and coming. The shock of this impromptu encounter is quite something and I’ve surprised myself by my orgasm. I see him out, like the good hostess and I lie back down under the covers to keep warm.

An hour later, the first guy calls. His club is finished and he wants to come over. Asks if I mind if he brings cigarettes. Christ – can I really do this?

By now, I’m a little more sober. The lounge stinks of smoke, I light some incense and quickly wash. I can still smell cheap aftershave on me. More perfume. Make the bed. Hide the condom. Put different clothes on, this time I’m making no effort. What have I become?

X arrives, seemingly high as a kite. Shows me all the videos of his evening. Spills beer all over the floors (he did this last time too) We smoke together and he gets out his cock. It’s a good one and I smile as I tease him by just holding it as he squeezes my tits together and licks them.

---

In my bedroom we fall into the familiar routine, he ignores my cunt completely and I focus on inhaling his dick. I mean, I really do enjoy it but I’d love his lips on my pussy just once. I’m soaked anyway, ready to ride and he knows it. He saddles up and I climb on top of him. There is something about his dick that fits perfectly. He knows now not to hammer me into oblivion, but take it slow and sensual. It feels even better this time. We slowly grind hips together and he blows on my nipples to make them harden, licking them just to make sure.

We come together as he growls in my ear, asking if he can squirt inside me. It’s an odd phrase but it does the job, for now.

So here he is after a few false starts. I can’t work him out and he can’t work me out. I decide a glass of wine and a chat before moving to the bedroom and he likes the idea. He sits on the sofa and I hand him a glass of red. Of course, he’s better looking than my rusty memory provides – it’s been over a month since he last came over.

A few pleasantries are exchanged and he asks me to sit next to him. I obey, like a good girl. I’m wearing stockings and suspenders just for him and I twirl so he can see before I plonk myself down. His hand goes on my knee and he moves mine to his crotch. His jeans are taught and I stroke gently, feeling him grow harder through the denim. It’s horny, especially as my other hand still has a glass of wine in it. But he speeds things up and unbuckles his belt – he can’t wait can he?

He pulls his jeans right down and pulls out his cock. Beautiful. I kneel between his legs and tease it with my lips and tongue. Red lipstick all over it.

—–

Upstairs he completely undresses and lies on the bed. He still hasn’t touched me. We kiss and I’m on top of him, I pull aside my knickers and ask him to touch me. I’m soaked. I try sliding up and down his cock without penetration but he grabs a condom. Okay then!

I ride him with my knickers pulled aside. I’m still wearing my cowboy boots and it feels fucking sexy. But our rhythm is off, we don’t co-ordinate and soon he loses it.

I try and suck him with the condom on – it doesn’t work so he removes it. I go hard and deep on his dick and soon he’s hard again. Back I go to ride him. Again, we almost clash in rhythm.

And the insecurities set in – stuff like –

Why doesn’t he ever touch my pussy?

Why does he want to fuck me so quick without forplay?

Why do I like him so much?

Why can’t I come?

Why can’t I let go?

How long has he got?

——

He comes, rather triumphantly in my mouth. I don’t make a habit of this at all, but I seem to have done it twice in one week.

When I stop he makes no effort to finish me off. We lie and chat for ages and then we fuck again.

The sex isn’t as great as it was the first time – for some reason it doesn’t have any spark. But it’s definitely better than the second time and he seem to have got a better vibe, he’s laughing and joking.

Before he leaves he shows me a dickpic he’s quite proud of. He’s an art director of course, he would be.

As he’s searching I tell him no woman wants to see an angry veiny postbox of a penis and it makes him laugh. I tell him I actually like ones of flaccidity – or if erect definitely with a hand included gripping it. His one is sideways on, blurred background and quite beautiful and I tell him to send it to “ratemydickpic.com”.

We also discuss just using an emoji if we are horny and want to fuck – he’s 10 minutes away for gods sake.

I look forward to receiving 😈 very soon.