Tag: masturbation

Wednesday 9th August 2017 additional

Just mentioning something: even though I’m really not a fan of Rihanna’s music.
Generally, I can’t stand the sort of manufactured pop shite she’s a purveyor of, but in terms of the photos… she always looks incredible.  The general hatred she seems to get seems to be a mixture of jealousy and just the whole “how dare you do things the way you want to do them and not the way we say”.  It’s really all about subjugation.    As a woman, she’s not allowed to be proud of her body and like to show it off.  She’s supposed to be ashamed and keep covered up because only sluts show their bodies off.

My personal take on this?  If you’ve got it, flaunt it.  If you want to show off what you’ve got, it’s none of my business.  You won’t find me judging someone based on what they decide to wear or not to wear (unless they’re chavs – then I’ll judge myself as being in danger).

Anyway… take a look at the picture.  I can’t be the only one who would like to see her wearing even less.

Buy my porn! I’ve written some smut. Here’s the links:
Wild Caught Are Always Better       Amazon    |    Smashwords

18th July 2017

18th July 2017

I did mention yesterday that I suffer from depression, right?

I’ve seen a lot of posts about it recently.  Probably because, as a sufferer, I tend to spot things like that where a “cognitive normal” more than likely wouldn’t.  Usually, I have to admit, I’ll go look at the article ready to scoff and sometimes even get annoyed by some hippy twat who was a bit sad once recommending going for a walk in the country or something equally inane.

The main problem with that is, when you’re in the middle of an episode, you can’t move.  There may well be part of your brain trying with all it’s power to make your body take notice, but it just won’t.  You’d really quite enjoy a wander in the woods, listening to the birdsong, watching out for wildlife and so on, but the depression has cut off access to your motor functions so it can just squat there in your brain like a dark fog.

You’re just numb.  Nothing gets through.  Nothing.  All you want to do is curl up in bed and not come out.  Ever.  There’s a part of your brain that tells you that everyone else would be better off without you.  That’s the part that must have been whispering in the ears of Robin Williams, Heath Ledger and Chris Cornell on their last nights on Earth.  With Cornell, the episode was probably brought on by the adrenalin crash after the gig.

While you’re being treated (and the medication helps with this), you learn to spot the signs you’re going to start spiralling down.  If you’re aware of it, you can at least attempt to either stop it or at the very least minimize its effects.  That usually (for me at least) requires some very loud music.  Either something aggressive along the lines of Slayer, Judas Priest (Painkiller is a favourite for this purpose) or any Thrash or Melodic Death Metal, such as Arch Enemy or Amon Amarth.  Something with a bit of a sneer and some swagger, such as Mötley Crüe or Zodiac Mindwarp & The Love Reaction is good.  Then there’s the really big guns:  Fight Until We Die by Manowar, Valhal Awaits Me by Amon Amarth and Overkill by the mighty (and much missed) Motörhead.  Another one of the better ones is the more “up” material from The Wildhearts.  Something like 29x The Pain, Greetings From Shitsville or Vanilla Radio.  A big part of the attraction towards using The Wildhearts is that Ginger understands.  He knows exactly what depression is.  He’s come very close to following the likes of Robin Williams, Heath Ledger and Chris Cornell.  He’s even got to the situation of being sectioned (I believe the USAnians call it “committed”), yet he’s come through and he’s still here.

Therein lies the rub, as Bill The Bard once wrote.  You’ve got to keep on swimming.

…and since I mentioned “rub”… you know what else helps?  Masturbation.  If you can feel it coming, get yourself somewhere you can concentrate and rub one out.  Do the five-knuckle shuffle.  Bash the bishop.  Spank the monkey.  Whatever you can do to get your brain to release an endorphin rush will help.  Going to the gym always helped me.  That’s something I’m going to have to do, by the way.  Get myself signed up for a gym membership.  And actually start using it at least twice a week.

Might get rid of some of this extra baggage I’m carrying.

In other news, remember to go to THIS LINK and get your FREE download of my debut dark erotic fantasy novella, Wild Caught Are Always Better.  The free offer is available until Friday, so if you want some free literary smut, get over there.  If you could take the time to write a review, that would be very much appreciated.

If it’s all getting too much and you can’t talk to someone you know, there’s always these guys, if you’re in the UK.  Never used them myself, but I’ve never needed to.

14th July 2017

14th July 2017

As something of a surprise, I wrote a novella over the last few days.  I stumbled across the whole “hucow” thing a few weeks ago, and this blast of writing was inspired by the discovery of Narcissa Rivers’ stories that I picked up from Amazon.

I got hard a few times and the whole milking thing is one of the fantasies that runs around my brain from time to time.  So does fucking a blindfolded woman who’s manacled to a table.

Anyway, here’s the cover and the first chapter as an extract.  I’ll be putting the rest up on the Amazon Kindle shop as well as here.  The first five people to either write a comment or subscribe to this blog will get a free copy.



It was dark and she was laid on her side on a cold, concrete floor, as far as she could tell.  As she came around, she realized that she couldn’t move.  Her wrists and ankles were tied behind her back with some kind of plastic binders.  She tried to scream out for help, but the ball gag rendered the scream into not much more than a gurgle.  She suddenly discovered that she had been stripped down to her underwear.

The light snapped on.  It was a single incandescent bulb hanging from a single pendulum lamp that had been attached to one of the rafters in what appeared to be a small barn.

She felt a rising tide of dread.  What was happening to her?  Why was this happening?


Kay McCann was a short natural redhead.  Her voluptuous figure formed a virtually perfect hourglass shape, topped off with a set of very large natural breasts.  To keep them under some kind of control, she wore a specially ordered 28FF bra, usually with a tailored blouse, open to show off her impressive cleavage.  Her wide, perfectly toned hips were poured into a short, tight pencil skirt.

She’d called in at her normal coffee place on her way to college.  She’d never been very good at school, but she was generally pretty eager to please and she could easily be described as excellent eye candy.

The coffee had taken a little longer than normal to arrive, but that really didn’t matter since no one really minded if she was late.  There was a slightly unusual flavour to it, but she put that down to it being a different barista to the one who normally worked there on a Thursday morning.

She remembered feeling a little odd as she walked down the road to the college.  She’d stopped and sat on a bench in one of the town squares to try and clear her head.  She remembered someone… a man, she thought… coming to ask if she was OK, and then the next thing she knew was waking up in the dark.


She heard a snapping sound and rolled over to look in that direction.

The man who wandered in was tall and muscular.  His jet-black hair was cropped close to the skull.  His square jaw was roughened with dark stubble.  His black denim jeans were fading at the knees, held up by a thick, black leather belt.  The black t-shirt he wore clung to his frame, showing off his pectorals and his broad shoulders.  If not for the terror making her heart feel as though it was climbing out of her chest, she would have been watching the way he moved with great and not unlecherous interest.

She tried to scream, but the ball gag reduced it to a muffled whimper.

As he slowly sauntered towards the squirming shape on the floor of the barn, he slowly unsheathed a large hunting knife, holding it so she could see it.  The light from the single bulb high above glinted off the point and the exposed, wickedly sharp cutting surface.  A small smile played across his lips as he saw her eyes open wide with fear.  The smile widened into a salacious grin as he saw the tears begin to well up in her eyes and the whimpering grew louder.

He knelt beside his prey’s struggling form and used the knife to expertly slice through the thin strips of black fabric of her bra straps.  Her breasts broke free of the ragged remains of black lace.  They were large and firm, the fear making them quiver in a way that made the man’s cock begin to harden.  Her silky skin was tanned and supple, stretched across her voluptuous form.  From each hardened nipple oozed a thick stream of white liquid.

He’d been right on the money.  He leaned in and give the powder brown areola of her right breast a lick.  A jolt of pure ecstasy roared through her body as he gave the nipple a sharp pinch with his teeth.  Her wide hips tried to wriggle away from him, scraping across the floor.  He grabbed her with strong, callused hands, fingers digging into her yielding flesh.  The tears were now flowing freely.  That made him harder still.  This was a man who loved his work.

Using the knife again, he sliced neatly through the thin strips of expensive lace that made up the tiny G-string she wore to expose her neatly trimmed, throbbing, sopping wet pussy.

He put the knife back in its holster and pushed her legs apart.  He grabbed her hip with one hand, pushing it down to open up her legs.  His powerful fingers slid easily into her lubricated cunt.  He curled them up and round, expertly finding the ridging of her g-spot and putting just the right amount of pressure on it to trigger one of the most enormous orgasms she’d ever had.

He nodded in appreciation as the orgasm made the milk almost spurt from her.  Now for the final test.

He rolled her onto her back, her wrists and ankles still bound together.  She’d stopped trying to scream now and was reduced to whimpering as she lay there.  Thing is, it wasn’t the whimpering of someone afraid for their life.  This was something else.  This was the whimpering of someone who wanted badly the very thing he was about to give her.

The man unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans.  She hungrily eyed the large, throbbing rod.  She needed that inside her.  That need overrode everything else.  The fear of being hogtied and gagged was gone.  The fear of what he might use the knife for also faded.  She wanted that cock inside her and she was willing to do anything to get it.

He smiled knowingly as she lifted her pelvis, opening her knees wider to present him with her saturated slit.  With no hesitation, he plunged the head of his penis into her.  Through the gag, she screamed in a savage mixture of lust, pain and pure rapture.  She was tight and he was too big for her, but he didn’t stop and she didn’t want him to as he rammed his way deep.  He pulled out slowly, until just the tip was still inside her before jackhammering in again and again, thrusting hard and without any shred of mercy.

She could feel another orgasm building.  She realized that her captor had attached something to her nipples – they looked like pumps of some kind, and they were sucking rhythmically in time with his thrusts into her.

The orgasm crashed over her, just as his cock bucked inside her blasting streams of cum into her warm darkness.  She screamed in ecstasy one last time as she orgasmed so powerfully she blacked out.

He pulled out and wiped his shaft on the remains of her discarded underwear, before shaking the last rivulets of cum onto the cow’s skin.  After zipping back up, he looked at the portable milking machine.  The yield was impressive.  She was a good fuck, too.  He’d enjoyed that one.  He dispensed a small sample of the milk he’d just extracted into a small paper cup and tasted it.  It was smooth and creamy.  It had been a good long while since he’d tasted better.  From this small sample, he wasn’t sure, but this could have even been the finest he’d ever tried.

This one would make him a lot of money.

Leaving her insensate on the floor, he gathered up her clothes and tossed them in a small metal bin he’d brought with him.  He poured in a small amount of lighter fluid and flicked in a lit match.  The expensive fabrics caught fire easily and quickly.

She wouldn’t be needing any clothes where she was going.

15th June 2017

I’m tired.

So damned tired.

Maybe that’s what’s affecting my libido.  I actually went to have a look on Brazzers today.  Bloody waste of time.  Nothing of interest in the last few days.  That’s how I know that my sexual interest has nosedived.  There’s usually something to at least be the slightest bit interested in.  Not even Brooklyn Chase (who, as far as I’m concerned, is right up there with Chanel Preston, Monique Alexander, Kiki Minaj and Jesse Jane) could raise anything at all.

This is Brooklyn Chase.  See what I mean?

Definitely tired.  Brain wandered off at a huge tangent.

Maybe I’d better get to bed.

10th May 2017

Jumping forward in time a little, mostly because the shower in our bathroom isn’t working very well.

OK, it’s fucked.

So that means myself and The SO are using The Small One’s bathroom for showering purposes.  That means masturbation opportunities are somewhat few and far between.

As for the buttplugs I mentioned, the curved prostate massaging one shows the most promise.  The one with the jiggle balls may be a little small.  The flared base wasn’t as flared as I thought it would be, so I’m somewhat worried about it disappearing!  Anyway, I couldn’t feel much in the way of balls moving around when I got it in, either.  Little bit disappointed with that one.  May have to go bigger.

Today, (while I’m here), I went and had something called an “erotic massage”.  Not bad.  The woman who gave it was obviously a trained masseuse who moved over into sex work.  I actually got a proper full body massage, even though my Sertraline-laden brain (and the fact that I really didn’t find this woman attractive in any way!) and my own feelings meant that the “erotic” part of it was nothing of the kind.  In fact I stopped her when I realized what she was doing.

Good ma

Anyway, I doubt very much I’ll be going back, since she tried to tell me (in not so many words) that my depression was something that had happened because I didn’t think about what I was on “this plane of existence” for.  Actually, I do.  The reason is to keep my family unit together and make sure The Small One grows to adulthood as a decent human being.

And that’s it.  No pseudo-mystical bollocks for me, thank you very much!

In other news, I’m not exactly enamoured of fetlife.  It’s a little bitty.  No real central forum menu or anything.  I might be tempted to go to the local “munch”.  If I can pluck up the courage to.

We’ll see.

27th April 2017

Well,  so much for every day!

Anyway, tried out the stroker I got with the last Lovehoney parcel.  It was free, so it would be rude not to, eh?

I flipped it inside out, so the… villi were on the inside, lubed up, inserted the small butt plug, loaded up some porn and got to work.

It can definitely be said that the prostate massager helps generate and maintain the erection.  Even though the hole at the bottom of the stroker was a bit tight and a little uncomfortable to get into, I didn’t go soft.  The problem wasn’t maintaining the erection.  It was building to orgasm that was the struggle.

During  one of the breaks I took to give my arm a rest, I grabbed the bullet vibe that came with the Cruiser and set it to high power.  Holding it in place along the perineum, touching the main body of the massager sent the vibrations up through the toy.  That did the trick.  A minute or two later, I came hard.  So hard, I was left somewhat breathless.

So what have we learned so far?

  • Bigger prostate toy is better.
  • Vibrating toy is better than static toy.
  • Vibrating toy that stays in place without having to hold it is better still.

Conclusion: 4” circumference vibrating prostate massager that stays in without being held in place will be a winner in the masturbators stakes.

In other news, a pair of butt plugs should be arriving at the weekend.  One curved towards the prostate once inserted, the other a more traditional shape, but hollow with a ball bearing inside that moves around.  Reviews for it are complementary.

Looking forward to trying them out and building up to wearing one all day.