I used to blame the ebbs and flows of interest I had in some men to the emotional highs and lows of my mental health. And ... that's exactly what it is. However, throw in some temporary sobriety, exercise, and being off my meds, I've (not for the first time) realised, I choose the wrong... Continue Reading →
He called me a “mad rooter”. Of course, there’s nothing mad about it. The way I fuck is the way I fuck. It’s honest, it’s frequently intense and it’s almost always loud. But I guess I don’t think about the way I fuck in those terms because it’s just who I am and what I’ve... Continue Reading →
Ready as I was ever going to be, I ordered him to the bedroom where I met him with a long kiss. I gripped the riding crop in my right hand and roughly grabbed the cage encasing his cock with my left. I whispered in his ear: “Are you ready to play, my slutty little... Continue Reading →
He answered the door wearing his collar, like I’d told him to. A muffled clink gave away the secret beneath his clothes. He’d been wearing the cage around his cock since early that morning, after admitting he touched himself when he woke up. It was now 7.30pm. I sidestepped around his welcome kiss and put my... Continue Reading →
Tied to the bed by my wrists and ankles, I was at his mercy. Perhaps I should have been more afraid given how little I knew him. But something about him was innately gentle despite the bag of floggers, paddles, gags and toys next to the bed. He struggled with the restraints, admitting he was... Continue Reading →
They say that when one door closes, another door opens. After saying goodbye to the love of my past life, again but less spectacularly this time, my door to real happiness seems to have finally opened. It’s early days yet but it has consumed my life for six weeks now. It happened the day after... Continue Reading →
Like many of us, I am often better at giving advice than following it and this week I’ve once again found myself in the position of dirty Dr Phil. I received a message on Plenty of Fish from a married man looking to chat. I politely declined his request at first, citing that fact that... Continue Reading →
He and I have been chatting for three months. He is married and should know better. Don’t be like him. And don’t be like me. It wasn’t my intention to chat to a married man after the disasters of a couple of years ago. Lies, affairs, secrets, bruises – of a physical and mental nature.... Continue Reading →
“Do you like that my pretty slave?” “Yes master.” “You like it when I pull your hair?” “Yes master.” “Tell me how much you like it.” “I love it when you pull my hair, master.” My hands were bound, white rope biting my wrists, its length tied to the bed head, taut. My arms were... Continue Reading →
Once upon a time, I ran sex parties. They were similar to Tupperware parties in many ways; the host would invite her closest friends, and some ring-ins to bolster numbers so she had a better chance of getting free stuff, there was usually cheese and crackers and wine, some quality plastic and silicone ware that... Continue Reading →
I like to think I’m not easily impressed by the contents of a person’s top drawer. Vibrators, dildos, cock rings, massage oil, lube, anal beads, strap-ons, hand cuffs, blindfolds – if I didn’t own it myself I had certainly seen it or experienced it. But when S tells me he has knives in his top... Continue Reading →
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