Here are two stories. Which do you prefer?

Version 1: A story about fucking

Girl meets boy. She’s wet. Soaking wet so you can see the slickness dripping from her open cunt. She’s smiling, enjoying it. Cupping her own tits in her hands as she lies back on the bed. Open. Waiting. Eager.

He’s hard – his broad hands stroke his fat cock as he stands over her – taking in every inch of her silky, taut, nakedness. Her nipples are hard, and he teases them with his prick. Rubbing the end over them as she moans faintly. The wetness from the tip of his cock leaves a trail on her chest, and she runs a finger over it then licks it off. She smiles.

He moves down her body, touching each bit of her – squeezing her tits, pushing the palm of his hand onto her stomach, running his fingers down through her wet slit. She moans. Kneeling between her legs, he spreads her thighs wide, holding the tip of himself against the entrance of the hole he’s about to fuck.

“Please fuck me.” No pause, straight in. The request made and granted almost simultaneously. He plunges himself into her and she squeals, reaching down to grip his arse with her hands. He fucks her – swift strokes that make her tits jiggle and her breath quick. She gasps, moans, and looks down to see his thick cock pushing into her.

In. Out. Again. More. Harder.

She flips over, presenting her arse for him to fill. As he slides his cock in his big hands grip her, slapping her and leaving red imprints. She moans again, arches her back, pushes herself onto him as he gets closer to coming.

In. Out. Again. More. Harder.

And it’s there – he pulls out, his dick twitching and glistening with the juices from her cunt. He grips the base and – with measured strokes – rubs out arcing ropes of spunk. They splash over her – drops and pools of come all over her arse. A river drips down the crack of her arse, mixing with the wetness in her cunt. His dick twitches a few more times: a few more drops.

And they’re done.

Argh you’ve ruined porn for me.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

But you’ve got to have sympathy for the guy… no?

When I had a rant about this stuff on Twitter, I got a few people telling me that ‘you’ve got to feel sorry for the guy.’ In fact,

Here’s how far I’m willing to go: I do feel sorry for people who want sex but can’t get it. I do. I have a hell of a lot of sympathy for people who are horny and lonely and struggling to find someone to share their life, their bed, or even just a sweaty five minutes in a pub toilet somewhere. I’ve been that person, and it was shit for me.

  I get this quite a lot – when I write about men who believe they are stuck in an imaginary Friend Zone, or men who struggle to chat up women, I am pretty much guaranteed a comment or two that says ‘well, you have to admit that it’s sad to not get any sex. Let’s get more guys laid and bad things won’t happen any more.’

 I don’t feel sorry for the guy who made the spreadsheet, at all. Any ounce of pity I had for him evaporated when he painted his lack of sex as a failing of his wife. Had he spoken to her properly and tried to work out whether there was a wider problem, all under the understanding that he didn’t have a right to sex an arbitrary number of times each week or month, then I would be cheering him on and wishing them future happiness.

But no matter how shit it is, I do not have sympathy for those who try to coerce or guilt-trip a fuck out of someone. Being sad that you’re not getting laid is perfectly natural – using that sadness to manipulate is unacceptably cruel. So no –

As it is, by making a spreadsheet of her ‘excuses’ he has implied not only that she doesn’t have the right to refuse sex (which she does, obviously, as does he, as does anyone), but that her reasons for refusal are ‘mean’ – she is a horrible wife who isn’t doing what she should, and doesn’t have the decency to make up good enough reasons for not doing it.

Maybe next time he tries sex with her, she’ll hit him with a new reason:

I can’t fancy you while you’re trying to manipulate me.

I’ve got a headache.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Sex is the best Performance.

Having rules like this does not mean we love our girlfriends any less, but it is part of the responsibility we have to each other as play partners. Both relationships are significant and require communication and effort. Neither can be taken for granted.

As previously mentioned, I often involve my girlfriend in my D/s relationship. If something is playing on my mind it shows and she is gracious enough to ask if I want to talk about it. This shows a great deal of trust and patience, which is a beautiful quality in the woman I want to spend my life with.

By some miracle, the four of us now socialise as well. We don’t discuss the arrangement, but it isn’t ignored. The fact that we can share a meal together and enjoy each other’s company as two couples is something that’s very precious to me. There’s no tension or jealousy; we all know where we belong.

It is scary to ask for something you really want, but if you’re ready to have an honest conversation about it, and keep having those conversations, there is always a chance that it can work out.

Sometimes, better than you’d hoped.