End of No Nut November: the cum shot

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Sometimes I get comments on sex stories I tell where people ask ‘where’s the orgasm?’ I don’t always report orgasms like I’m making a tally chart of who came when and how, because for me the cum shot isn’t always the main event. This post though? Oh yeah this post, I promise the cum shot will come. Last time I left you on a cliffhanger , just as I was about to straddle someone’s dick and ride him until I had milked an entire month’s worth of jizz from his aching balls. Honestly, just writing that sentence is wank-fodder enough, so I hope you can understand why this blog has been tricky to write. I have to keep taking breaks to go rub one out, and that seriously eats into my typing time. How much spunk is there in an end-of-NNN cum shot? If you’re anything like some of the friends I’d spoken to about my planned end-of-No-Nut-November fuck, you might be thinking here: “hang on, GOTN, you’re excited about a month’s worth of spunk but… it doesn’t work like that, surely? Eventually the body stops producing more jizz, so you don’t get a whole thirty-days’ worth of spunk just building up then get drowned in sixty-shots-worth.” And no, you don’t. The body isn’t an infinite jizz-production facility, regardless of how often you release. So it’s not exactly like that. But let me tell you what it is like. It’s like sucking an erection into someone who has resisted the urge to let themselves orgasm for fully four weeks, so they’re extremely sensitive and excited. The excitement is part of the fun: the way their leg jiggles involuntarily as you run your tongue around the head of their cock, and the little moans they make when you let your wet lips make a tight seal that you kiss back and forth across the ridge of the head. It’s getting to see the so-eager-it’s-almost-anguished look in their eyes as you straddle them, and feel the diamond-hard tautness of their dick as you slide it – slowly and carefully, so as to savour it all – into the dripping wetness of your own cunt. See, the joy of a month’s worth of jizz isn’t purely in the jizz. It’s in getting to fuck someone who’s not been fucked for a very long time, with all the horny extras that implies. The twitching, aching, throbbing rigidity of an erection that’s barely been touched. And the frantic, greedy joy of being the one who gets to touch it. Lick it. Fucking sit on it . For the month leading up to our shag, I’d been heavily fetishising the idea of getting to slide down the length of his cock. And when I finally got to do it, I realised almost immediately that my fantasies had mostly been focused on that initial stroke: when he slides inside and I can clench and feel myself being stretched and filled. Then, in my wank fantasies, I usually (unrealistically) imagined him immediately coming – in great torrents and with thudding power – fully painting my insides with jizz. (credit where it’s due: ‘painting your insides with jizz’ are totally his words – I nicked them because they’re excellent) But reality is so much better than that. Because in reality we’ve already fucked for a while, and in reality we’re both a little bit stoned. So instead of just greedily devouring one or two strokes before succumbing to a spunk volcano, I got to ride him. And ride him. And ride him. Slowly at first, then building speed, feeling each stroke so satisfyingly hard inside me – adjusting my angle slightly, and my tempo, and the swing of my hips, until I fucked my way into a meditative rhythm that I could maintain for long enough to nudge me to the edge of coming. How much spunk did you get tho? Thirty days isn’t just about the jizz, it’s about the glorious noises he made as I milked his cock with my cunt. The agonised moans he let out. The delightful twitching judder of his thighs as he got close. The little ‘ oh yeah ’s when I squeezed myself good and tight around him. The fact that – as he told me afterwards – he could literally feel himself getting bigger and harder inside me as he got closer to coming. And we’re getting there now. We’re getting to the cum shot, I promise. Shortly before he came, I managed to. Keeping myself relatively quiet. Stoically (some might say heroically ) maintaining the exact same rhythm of sliding up and down his dick while I came so as not to knock him off course. By now I was so fucking eager for his spunk. One month. Thirty days. Countless dozens of messages back-and-forth fantasising about the sheer volume and power and force of it. The ache in my thighs from riding him, and the gutpunch hotness of hearing his noises and watching his face as he got close. The way he gripped my hips and manoeuvred me, like he was angling my cunt to get the perfect speed and pressure at exactly the right points on his thick, unyielding dick… and then he said it: that simple three-word phrase that is my favourite in the whole English language: “I’m gonna come.” I squeezed once more, good and tight, and felt it thud all the way from the base of his shaft to the tip before exploding inside me. And no, most of the time you don’t always get to feel someone’s cum shot . It’s a gamble which depends on a number of factors. But this time? I felt every single squirt. One after the other after the other as he pumped it all inside me. The pulse of spunk running up his cock as well as the force with which it splattered inside. All the while he gripped my hips tight, looked down at where his own dick was spearing my cunt, and let out the most fabulous moaning noises. One more stroke. And another. Cunt clenched tight and pulsed once or twice to make sure I’d milked every last drop from him. Then a glance at his face, which was a delightful and joyous picture of semi-tortured satisfaction. In short: exactly the expression you’d expect of someone who hadn’t come for a month then finally got to blast it all inside me. No but seriously, how much spunk was there? As I say, if you’re thinking ‘you ain’t getting 30 full days’ worth of jizz, GOTN’ then you’re technically correct. You are also, however, wrong in the only way that matters. I didn’t expect to get 30 days’ of jizz as I might if I’d asked him to wank as per usual then collect it in a jar like a science experiment. What I wanted was a larger-than-average volume of cum, shot with powerful intensity, really good and deep in my eager cunt. And that is exactly what I got. More spunk than I had ever been blessed with before, shot with power and intensity. As I climbed off him, I could feel it gushing down my thighs. When I put my knickers back on afterwards, they were immediately soaked through. There was so much spunk that I realised, for perhaps the first time in my life, I was literally ‘overflowing’ with it. So full was I that I had to cut my post-fuck cigarette short to run inside to the bathroom, as more of it gushed down from my cervix and threatened to soak through my trousers. Yeah. Fuck yeah. A lot of spunk. So much spunk. Fucking torrents of it. If you want to collect your own in a jar, be my guest. And you’ll definitely gather more over thirty days than this guy gifted me on the 1st December. But not, I suspect, by orders of magnitude: there was still an absolute fuckload of hot, sticky cum. Besides, the joy of the end of No Nut November wasn’t just in the cum shot itself, as I hope this post makes clear. The fun was in every detail of the fuck: the rigidity of his dick, his twitching eagerness, and the meditative pleasure of riding those waves of spunk right out of him. How do you end a blog post like this? How do you conclude a fuck you’ve been building up to for over a month? If I were a better writer I’d come up with something powerful and hot to end on. The perfect turn of phrase that’ll stamp this on your brain for a good few weeks. But as I mentioned in the first post: this guy’s shy and cute and introverted, and I feel like a perv if I lean too hard into objectifying him. No human is pure spunk-factory, and no date is ever entirely about the jizz. So here you go: the climax that comes after the cum shot at the end of No Nut November… Camera pans out to an extremely comfy sofa, on which we’re both sat snuggled up warm under a blanket. Spent and happy and giggling at a film… and eating an entire trifle . This post is also available as audio, if you like hearing eager sluts talk about how desperate they are for loads of jizz. You can find lots more of this sort of thing at the audio porn hub.