Watching

#MasturbationMondayMuch as I enjoy being responsible for my partner’s orgasm, there is something intensely arousing and intimate when I watch her pleasure herself.

I love to watch as she slides her hands over her body; stroking, touching, pinching and flicking. I love listening to the sounds she makes as she turns her self on, her arousal slowly deepening. I love to watch the expressions on her face, the widening of her eyes, the trembling of her lip as she finds a particularly sensitive spot.

I know that she knows I am watching and getting turned on by what I see. It may have started out as a show for me, but as her arousal glows, it becomes less and less about me and, as it should, more and more about her.

She sighs as she tugs sharply on her nipples. She moans as she slowly works one, then two fingers inside herself.

I smile, as she raises her fingers, glistening with her juices to her lips and tastes herself, moaning as she enjoys her own flavour.

Her fingers slide more rapidly; in and out, twisting as she fucks herself. I see those all to familiar movements, the tightening around her eyes, the shaking of her head, the rocking of her hips.

Her breathing quickens as her fingers drive her onwards. Each breath, a murmur, a moan, a sigh of pleasure.

I can see the flush rise on her skin; I can almost feel how close she is.

“Come,” I say softly, “Let yourself go.”

Her back arches sinuously, lifting her bottom off the bed. A series of soft, sharp, gasping cries escapes from her mouth as she surrenders to her climax.

Lost in the throes of her climax she barely notices as I cuddle up to her and hold her tight.

Her breathing returns slowly to normal. Her body shakes less violently. She turns to me, looks into my eyes, smiles and says “Fuck me…”

ZeN

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Intellectual Curiosity

#MasturbationMondayWhile this week’s prompt seemed to indicate that the topic under the magnifying glass (not literally, before any of us guys get an inferiority complex) was the penis, I’ve decided to go off on a bit of a tangent. I am male and, therefore, it kind of goes without saying that I have a penis. I have, in fact, written a number of posts on the subject of my penis. My penis and I have been life-long partners and have shared many wonderful experiences together.

So, as I said, I thought I’d go somewhere slightly different…

For the record, I have absolutely no desire to be a woman. PMT, periods, pregnancy, childbirth, menopause, having to put up with us guys, inherent sexism in society; no, not for me. My genetic role of the dice came up XY and for that I am eternally grateful.

However, as someone who writes about sex, and writes (hopefully fairly realistic) descriptions of sex, I am curious as to what it would feel like from the female perspective.

Now, even as a man, there is nothing stopping me from, if I were so inclined, sucking another guy’s cock, or taking a cock in my arse but (and it’s a big but), I am not so inclined. There are some sacrifices I will not make for my art.

So, when trying to write about sex from a female perspective, I have attempted to glean what it feels like from my various partners over the years.

I know what it feels like to be inside a woman and, conversely, I can sort of imagine how it must feel in reverse, but I will never know.

So, if I could spend a day a woman, how would I spend that day?

Well, it stands to reason that I would spend a fair bit of time exploring and getting to know my new bits, for the purposes of research, obviously, you understand. Experiencing both orgasm, and the frustration of its denial as a woman would give me a fantastic insight for some of my D/s stories.

And then there’s sex…

Now, this is where it gets interesting. As I’ve already pointed out, as a straight male, I have absolutely no interest, sexually, in my own gender. This poses a bit of a problem. Were my personality to be transplanted, as is, into the body of a woman, with no other changes, then presumably my sexual preferences would remain as they are; i.e. attracted to women, no interest in men.  Surely then, this would make me a lesbian?

I don’t have a real problem with this. Given my passion for cunnilingus, I guess that would still be an option, and I would get to experience it from the woman’s perspective, so it’s all good.

However, given that I’ve already said, any such switch would be for the purposes of research, and so to fully achieve this, being a woman would also mean sex with a guy, otherwise what is the point of the experiment? Could I do it? Would I be able to enjoy it is I did? How would the experience affect me when I reverted back to my own body?

Of course,  another way of looking at it would be that since I am heterosexual, the female “me” would be as well, and I would be able to fully experience and (hopefully) enjoy the feelings and sensations of what it is to be a woman being taken by a man; to experience as a “receiver” all the things I do with my partner in my natural state as the “giver”

In an ideal world, the female “me would like both men and women, but I suspect I’m possibly being greedy.

Now, if you have read any of my stories, it may be that you think that my descriptions of sex and the feelings experienced by both partners are fairly accurate, albeit that everyone’s senses and sensations are unique to them. That being the case, the exercise become somewhat academic because, ultimately, the only person whose experiences and feelings I can truly accurately describe are my own.

On the whole, I think I’ll just stick to using my imagination. It seems to work well enough. I can’t deny, however, that I do have a certain intellectual curiosity. As I mentioned at the start however, I am very happy being a man and, in particular, this man.

ZeN

Schrödinger’s Wanker

#MasturbationMondaySome of you will, no doubt, be at least passingly familiar with the concept of Schrödinger’s cat; the idea postulated to explain the strange nature of quantum superpositions, in which a quantum system such as an atom or photon can exist as a combination of multiple states corresponding to different possible outcomes. The prevailing theory at the time said that a quantum system remained in this superposition until it interacted with, or was observed by, the external world, at which time the superposition collapses into one or another of the possible definite states.

Still with me?

To illustrate this. Schrödinger  proposed a scenario with a cat in a locked steel chamber, wherein the cat’s life or death depended on the state of a radioactive atom, whether it had decayed and emitted radiation or not.

One of the obvious problems with this, aside from its inherent cruelty to the cat is that, depending on how long the radioactive material actually took to decay, the cat could die for a number of totally unrelated reasons, i.e. starvation or, more likely due to need for the steel box in question to be sealed to prevent stray radiation entering from outside, asphyxiation. Another possibility is that the cat could die out of sheer boredom. All of these deaths could occur without radioactive decay and would, therefore, render the experiment invalid (and pointless).

This did get me thinking, in an oddly roundabout way, about the internet and the way we interact with each other over it.

In this scenario, the “internet” is the closed box and I am the cat/wanker in question. Now, at the time of writing this particular piece of nonsense, I am most definitely not having a wank. For one thing, I’m male and multi-tasking is not my thing, and for another, my general lack of typing ability means that I primarily use my dominant hand for both activities; so if I’m doing one, I cannot be doing the other. QED.

But what about from the readers’ frame of reference?

Assuming anyone reads this, they will be reading it at a different point of time from when I wrote it. I am, therefore, unobservable because I am inside that box that is the internet. I could therefore, be wanking and or not-wanking when you read these words. As such, I would simultaneously be performing an act of masturbation, while also not masturbating at the same time. You, my dear reader, would never know unless you were able to somehow peek inside “the box” (presumably using a web cam or similar) while reading these words.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the audience; I present to you…

Schrödinger’s Wanker…

ZeN

No Worries…

Penis ProjectIt’s a strange one, isn’t it? Ask a woman what size her boobs are and, assuming she’s willing to divulge such information, she’ll tell you. Ask a man how big his cock is, and you’ll probably be met with something along the lines of: “Um, dunno, probably about 6 inches”. If you are really unlucky, he may take that as an invitation to send you a photo of it.

Now I suspect one of the reasons women know their measurements much more accurately than we men know ours is that they have to get themselves fitted to wear an uncomfortable garment that, ultimately, is still the wrong size; whereas we don’t need to worry about such things. Also, a woman’s boobs, even when modestly covered are still pretty much on display; whereas what we men have in our trousers is, by and large, more discreetly concealed.

It’s not that we men are reticent about our penises; far from it. Indeed, we seem to take the opportunity to proudly wave them about at every opportunity, so why are we generally so vague on their dimensions?

Well, for one thing, their dimensions are decidedly inconstant. Mine changes according to the mood I’m in, the temperature, whether or not I need to pee, my partner’s state of undress or what she happens to be doing at any given moment. When I’m cold it can shrivel down to virtually nothing, when aroused it is, well, whatever size it is.

The fact is that the women I’ve been with have all seemed to like it. When I was younger, before any member of the opposite sex had even seen my member, I used to have some concerns that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t “man enough” in that department, but such doubts were quickly dispelled by the first girl to see it (and subsequently feel it) and the comments that I have had directed about it have all been favourable.

#MasturbationMondayThe insecurity, such as it was, came from comparing my cock in its flaccid state with other lads my age. I am very much what you might describe as a “grower”. The other problem is, things always look smaller when you look down on them, and given that since my early teens I have been about 5′10″ that’s a reasonably long way down to look. Of course, even then, I knew that the size of a penis in its flaccid state bears no relation to its size when fully erect, but that was all I had to go on.

Even as I grew more confident, thanks to the appreciative comments of the women who saw it in the flesh, I’d still rather that their first view of it was in at least a semi-erect state.

I’m over such things now. Even when I had “hang-ups” I still knew that it wasn’t really the size that was the important thing, nor was my penis the only thing that gave women pleasure during sex.

I have learned that, ultimately, the important thing is, is that the woman I am with likes it and what I do with it. As for how big it is, um, I dunno, about 6″ I guess.

ZeN

A Confession

#MasturbationMondayI have a confession to make; something that I just have to get off my chest. I have a dreadful, awful secret that I can no longer keep to myself. I know what I am about to reveal will shock some of you on the grounds that:

  1. I am a sex-blogger; and
  2. I am a man

But I hope you will be able to see past my confession and support me.

So, here it is… *deep breath*

I can’t remember the last time I had a wank.

There, I’ve said it. I feel so much better now.

So what prompted this?

Well, partially it’s because it is, of course, a Monday, which means it’s time for Kayla’s fabulous #MasturbationMonday meme (in which, last week, Kayla did me the great honour of , using one of my photos for the prompt image). Then, today as I was scrolling back through some of my older material, I stumbled across this poll that the wonderful Girl on The Net ran:

Quick poll: how often do you wank? Assuming you’re not having partnered sex at the time.

Well, that finally tipped me over the edge (no, not like that, or I wouldn’t be writing this post, would I? Pay attention at the back there…)

I’ve written before about my “wanking style” but, the sad thing is, in terms of practising the technique, the frequency has dwindled to so rarely I could almost claim to be masturbatorly celibate.

So why is this?

I am sexually active. My penis does what it’s supposed to do when I have the “appropriate” company (although my orgasm can sometimes be a bit reticent). I have urges, I have desires, so why do I so rarely indulge in them?

The answer lies, in part, with the “orgasmic reticence” I just mentioned.

As many of you are aware, I regularly from suffer very serious bouts of depression. I have been on anti-depressant medication continuously since 2004. My medication has no real effect on my sexual appetite, but it does sometimes mean that I find it difficult to climax. Now, this prolonged “staying-power” might be seen as some to be a blessing, but in some instances it can be downright frustrating. It doesn’t happen often, but there are times when I am having sex that, eventually, I’m forced to effectively give up. I get close, but it just doesn’t happen (yes, this does actually happen to guys too). It’s a rarity when I’m having sex with someone else, but it’s much more frequent when I’m taking myself “in hand”.

And that is the beginning of the slippery slope, as it were.

Like most people, I wank because (a) it feels good, and (b) I have a certain need for release. Sadly for me, while (a) still holds true, (b) is very seldomly achieved. This, in turn, increases frustration until the point where the pleasure obtained is pretty much neutralised by the frustration experienced. A vicious circle ensures where, instead of relieving frustration, wanking actually causes more frustration. It loses it pleasurable qualities and, to all intents and purposes, becomes more trouble and effort than it is worth.

That’s kind of where I am now and, as a result of that particular stroke of ill fortune, why the longest and most productive “sexual relationship” that I have ever had is now more a source of bitter-sweet memories rather than an active source of pleasure.

Kind of sucks to be me really.

ZeN

Talking Dirty

#MasturbationMondayTRIGGER WARNING: This post will probably make me sound like a massive bellend/pious twat.

Filthy…

Dirty…

Illicit…

Sinful…

Wicked…

Bad…

All words that are frequently used to describe aspects of sex. Also words that are used in the names of some of my favourite blogs and blogging memes; blogs and memes that promote body/image/sex positivity.

Yet, despite all the good things about these, I have one niggling problem them; the names.

Now, I must emphasise that I am not having a go at the bloggers and writers involved. The problem isn’t with their blogs, or what they write, or the photos they post. After all, I participate in these memes, posting both my writing and photos. My problem is with the language. Not the language used by my fellow bloggers/writers you understand, just the language that has grown up around sex itself.

Now, when it comes to writing about sex, I am as “guilty” as everyone else; I describe it as dirty/filthy/naughty/etc. The problem is, the negative connotations of these words goes against the sex positive message we try to put forward. Somehow, while on the one hand seeming entirely apt, they also reinforce the message that there is something wrong with sex; that somehow we should feel shame for enjoying it and the pleasure it brings us.

And yet…

And yet, the use of such words is partially what makes it so much fun; it makes it seem like we’re doing something we really shouldn’t. Which is, of course bollocks. Of course we should be doing it. If we didn’t, none of us would be here to discuss it. And since we should be doing it, it only seems right that we should also enjoy it.

On the one hand it is great that the sex positive community is attempting to “reclaim” these words and make them positive but, on the other hand, are we not further entrenching the idea of “wrongness” about sex by doing so.

It’s a quandary. No less so because there are no “positive” words in our language that have the same delicious (ok, so there’s one) feel to them when describing the act. There is something primal and satisfying about words such as fuck, cock, cunt; it is their power to shock that illicits such strong emotions and feelings, and what would sex be without those.

So we are stuck with the bizarre juxtaposition that, while proclaiming to the world that sex is good, wholesome, healthy, natural fun, we do so by describing it as dirty, filthy, naughty, bad.

This is a bit of a rambling diatribe. I wish I had a satisfying conclusion (pun intended) to raise. I wish I didn’t sound like a complete berk. Are we right to be wrong, or is wrong being right? I don’t know, I really don’t.

It’s a contradiction, and one that everyone who writes positively about sex faces, but it’s the use of such language that makes our particular genre (and indeed, the act itself) so enjoyable.

What can I say? Sometimes humans baffle me.

ZeN

In The Mind

#MasturbationMondayTo me, the question as to which is the most important sexual organ is, if you’ll pardon the mixed oxymoron, a no-brainer.  It is the mind that interprets the stimuli received by our senses, it is the mind that generates desire. It is our mind that creates the eroticism of words and images, and it is our mind that dictates our responses. Different parts of my body are assigned different tasks; my lips are assigned the task of kissing you, my tongue gets then task of licking you, my fingers get the job of caressing you and my cock gets given responsibility for fucking you. It is, however, my mind that is control of each action; orchestrating and coordinating the sensual whole.

I will admit that I used to use contact/hook-up sites (Twitter isn’t really one of those, now, is it?). The biggest and most common complaint from women using these sites was about the lack of originality/imagination shown by the male users. All too often, it seems, “communication” from us men was a picture of our cock and a well thought out, highly eloquent one-liner, that went along the lines of: “hey babe, wanna fuk u.” Now, I am sure there are some women out there who appreciate this direct approach, but for the most part, given that these sites are a buyer’s market, with women very much the “buyers”, most, I think, preferred a little more effort than simply stating the blindingly obvious, i.e. that we wanted to fuck. There was, after all, a bit of a clue in the nature of the sites we were using.

Now for me, the whole “stimulate her mind and her body will follow” philosophy was part of the reason I started writing erotic fiction. It was a way of demonstrating that I am articulate, imaginative and, in a way, it gives a certain insight into the kind of things, sexually, that I enjoy.  In the context of hook-up sites, at some point during the correspondence, assuming I’d piqued their initial interest by not leading with my cock and by stringing a couple of paragraphs together, I could ask if they liked such stories and, if the answer was yes, point them in the direction of my site (well, it’s predecessor to be strictly accurate).

Surprisingly (or not), my approach did sometimes succeed. I’m not saying it was my writing that got me laid, but it was the fact that I’d taken the time to think about the person I was contacting, show that I’d taken an interest in what they had to say, and shown that I could think coherently about more than what was (if all went well) the desired and pleasurable (for her as well as me, I hope) endgame.

Mental stimulation, whilst vital in the initial making an impression stages, is no less important when you are in a relationship.  For me, part of foreplay is the drawn out flirting/sexting that goes on between us when we are not together.  This usually starts pretty much after we have seen each other, and continues almost right up until the moment we are next together. Time is often short, and so much of the “preparation” is done before we even see each other.

Being able to think sexy, and, more importantly, making the other person think sexy is, for me at least, a key part of the sex we have. Yes, it can lead to frustration, but it is a lot of fun being to turn someone on when you aren’t in their presence, and the frustration can be relieved when you do finally see each other. There is something wonderful about being able to build and maintain arousal and desire over a number of hours, days, even weeks if required, using just words from your imagination, telling her exactly what I intend to do, and what I want her to do. Knowing that she is wet and aching for me from just the words I have sent her, telling her of my hunger for her is, of itself, hugely arousing.

It is the equivalent  of edging her mind with mine.

So my advice, had I been inclined to give it to those “Ugh! Wanna Fuk!” guys, and thus increase the competition for the more articulate out there, would have been, if you really want to get into her knickers, you should try getting into her mind first.

ZeN

Private Parts

#MasturbationMondayAs anyone who writes about sex, or pens erotic stories will know, euphemisms abound. The terms we use to describe sexual acts and the erogenous zones of our bodies are too numerous to list. If you ever get stuck, I do recommend this particular post.

For the purposes of this post, I am concentrating on the names that we give to those intimate bits of our own and, where relevant, partner’s bodies. Personally, when it comes to the words I use for the various naughty bits of the human anatomy, I find a lot depends on the context.

So, starting with my own particulars…

Generally, my penis is my penis. I will sometimes, in the context of a photo, refer to it as my cock or dick, but by and large (cue childish sniggering), it’s my penis. What my partner calls it, is entirely up to them. If they wish to feel my cock, throbbing manhood, or other such ego-stroking term inside them, then I’m happy to oblige. I’ve commented on any number of occasions that I find the male reproductive organ faintly humorous, so I’m not going to get all angsty if the woman I’m with comes up with some joking term of endearment for it. So long as she it and she likes what I’m doing with it, and she is complimentary, she can call my tally-whacker whatever the hell she wants.

In the context of my writing, I tend to use “cock”. I simply prefer it to “dick” or “prick”. I will differentiate between the shaft and the head where it seems appropriate to do so. I will occasionally use words like “member” or “pole” etc., just for the sake of variety, but in the main, “cock” is my go to word of choice.

Now, lady-bits…

I’ve written before about the plethora of terms for the female erogenous zones; and again, context is key. When I’m with a woman, I generally use the language that she herself prefers to use. Some women have tits (not really a fan, but hey-ho), some have boobs; some women have a pussy (again, not my favourite), others have a cunt. Really, it depends on her chosen term for those bits of her body.

If I’m having a general discussion on the subject with someone (most usually a woman) I tend to use boobs/breasts and cunt/vagina, but again, I try to be sensitive to the other person’s sensibilities.

In my writing, if I’m being descriptive I would usually make a reference to the female character’s breasts (e.g. she had small/large/perky/full/firm breasts). For a woman’s genitalia, I tend to use cunt, but sometimes I will use sex; sometimes I will differentiate and refer to specific parts such as labia or clit.  When writing dialogue, I tend to try and reflect the fact that women use different names, so one female character might want her tits played with and her pussy fucked, whereas another might prefer her boobs to be caressed and her cunt filled. A lot depends on the coarseness  of the sex being written about and the level of detail I’m describing. Also, again, variation stops things getting repetitive so nothing is set in stone.

There are lots of words that can be used, and everyone has their own preferences. Ultimately, while the words used for those bits might not please everyone, what’s much more important is the way in which those bits are used and the enjoyment such use evokes.

ZeN

Oral Sex – The Be And End All?

The Oral Sex Project So, this teaser was posted on Twitter recently:

“Would you stay in a sexual relationship if oral sex was totally off the table?”

At a first glance, this seems like a very simple question, but give it some thought, and there are all sorts of ramifications behind it.

Firstly, there is the nature and context of the “sexual relationship” itself.

For me, sex is about what pleases both partners. If the sex was part of a deeper emotional relationship, then the absence of oral sex possibly wouldn’t really be a factor. If that were the deal breaker within the relationship, then it would have to be in a pretty bad place to begin with.

A good sex life is an important factor in a committed relationship, but it is only one factor. There are so many other things that are equally or more important, such us the emotional support you give each other. So, in this context, if oral sex was off the cards and, assuming every other aspect of the relationship (including the actual sexual activities we did enjoy) were fine, then yes, I would stay. In the same way, oral sex is only one component of a sex life. For me, it is quite an important factor (I’ll go into this in more detail later), but it is only one. There are many other activities that can be combined to make a full and enjoyable sexual encounter. The presence or absence of any one of them probably isn’t a factor as it is all about what feels right and good in the moment and in the context of that encounter.  So, in this context, if oral sex was off the cards and, assuming every other aspect of the relationship (including the actual sexual activities we did enjoy)

If on the other hand, the relationship was purely casual, purely about the sex then, since oral sex (particularly giving – but again, more of that later) is something that I particularly enjoy, then I suspect the relationship would not be sufficiently satisfying for me to stay in it.

Then, of course, there is the issue of whether by oral sex being off the cards, we are referring to giving, receiving, or both.

I’m a guy. It goes without saying that I do love getting a blow-job and, as the old adage goes, even the worst one I’ve ever had was fantastic. Having said that however, when it comes to oral sex, giving is actually far more important to me than receiving.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love getting my cock sucked. If the woman I am with offers to suck my cock, it is unlikely in the extreme that I am going to refuse her. I love the sensations and I love the intimacy, but when all is said and done, my penis enjoys any form of stimulation that the woman I’m having sex with bestows upon it.

#MasturbationMondayCunnilingus is, however, one of my favourite things. I’ve been complimented enough on my abilities to consider it one of my sexual talents. As a lover, so much of my sexual pleasure derives from the pleasure I am giving my partner and, at the risk of sounding big-headed, I’ve never been with someone who didn’t enjoy my tongue.

I enjoy sex, all of sex, but if I know that the woman I’m with is enjoying it, I enjoy it even more; it’s a sort of virtuous circle. The more she enjoys it, the more I enjoy it, the harder I work to ensure she enjoys it even more.

In this respect, if a relationship that is purely just about the sex, is ever going to be more than just a one-off, if she’s not a fan of giving head, I can probably live with it, if she doesn’t like receiving it, then it is cutting off a major source of my enjoyment of sex and so, it’s probably never going to go anywhere.

Yes, maybe that sounds a bit shallow, but life is short and sex is meant to be enjoyed by both participants, and we can’t all be sexually compatible with everybody.

So, back to the original question, would I stay in a sexual relationship if oral sex was of the cards?  The simple answer is, it depends on the relationship.

ZeN

White Lines

#MasturbationMondayIf porn is to be believed, the cumshot is the absolute epitome of the male climax, the Crème de la Crème of the male sexual experience. It seems we men are incapable of achieving orgasm inside the body of a woman. We just can’t help ourselves, it seems; as soon as we reach the point of no return, we simply have to whip our cocks out of whatever hole they have been pounding, and deposit our load all over the face, neck, boobs, tummy, arse of the object of our carnal desires.

Sometimes, I think the whole “mainstream” porn industry is some sort of advert for the Catholic Church’s Family Planning Unit. Cue:

“Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is great. If a sperm gets wasted, God gets quite irate…”

Given that there are around 8 billion of us on this planet, it certainly highlights the inadequacy of coitus interruptus as a form of contraception; but, I digress…

Now here’s the rub (pun possibly intended); when it comes to shooting my load, I actually like to be directed by the recipient of it. If she wants me to cum hard inside her, then that’s what I’ll do. If she wants me to unload in her mouth, then I’m up for that. If she wants me to erupt all over her an then rub it in, then I will happily oblige. If she wants some combination of all of the above, I’ll try my best but I can’t promise. It may require more than one shot at it…

Actually as an aside, and as someone who believes in safe sex, the majority of my sexual relationships, have been  what you could call “condom relationships”, so, with very few exceptions, cumming inside her actually involves cumming inside the condom, but that’s a minor technical point.

There is,in my opinion, something incredibly hot in seeing my lover streaked with my cum; it adds a particular stamp to the proceedings. I’ve never been with someone who wanted me to give them a facial, but any number of women that I’ve “entertained” have enjoyed me shooting forth over their boobs.

As Girl on the Net said in her post, I like to ask the woman where she wants it. I also love it when the woman chooses, completely unsolicited, to tell me where she wants me to cum. One of the hottest experiences I have ever had is when the woman I was with took me to the edge with her mouth, wanked me off over her boobs, then asked me to rub it in while I ate her out. For some strange reason, that got me hard again very quickly. There is something insanely hot about seeing her lying there with a dreamy well fucked contentedness on her face, wearing the mark of our passion proudly on her skin.

That said, the visual aesthetics of her wearing my load on her boobs, seeing it dribble from her cunt, or watching her lick it from her lips are all visual, post-climactic treats. At the point of orgasm, I’m not really caring about such niceties; if I’m concentrating on anything at all during those few moments of release it is on sensations of said release alone, not where it is ending up.

Do I have any preference as to the ending? Simple answer: no, not really. Whilst ejaculation isn’t something I can take absolutely 100% as a given, it happens more often than not. When it happens, it’s the act of release that brings pleasure.

So, with that in mind,  for me, the best place to cum is wherever she wants me to…

ZeN