Wanking from my perspective

इस कहानी के बारे में

As I might have mentioned a few very excited times – on Patreon and in Wednesday’s blog post – I have recently bought a massive mirror and mounted it on the wall opposite the end of my bed. I’ve always had mirrors in my bedroom – a dressing-table mirror that gives a good side-view of doggy and a larger mirror high on the wall that is angled so I can watch my partner having a wank while I do my hair in the morning. But with this new mirror comes a new angle, and a new idea. Halfway through a quiet night in, he asks me what I want to do. The answer is ‘I want to fuck’, but right now I struggle to come when we’re fucking: a combination of anxiety and remnants of anorgasmia from when I was taking some really shitty SSRIs . What I actually want is to come. And I know exactly how to do that: I grab a Doxy and a dildo, lie on my back, and let my hands instinctively do all the things they need to do. So I tell him: “I want to fuck. But first I want you to watch me having a wank. I want you to lie with me, and help me, and whisper filthy things while I do it. And you can watch it from all angles in the bedroom mirror.” He sat down on the bed, propping pillows behind him so he could sit up. I lay between his legs with my head on his stomach, feeling his already-twitching dick resting nicely against my back. And I had a wank. I find masturbation hard to write about in a sexy sense, because for me it’s usually functional. But this time it was more than functional: it was performance. Wanking as warm-up to a bigger, more intense fuck later on. I’ll tell you about that one some other time – it was fun enough that we had to put special sheets down to catch the fuckjuice. I pulled out my Doxy and my favourite dildo, closed my eyes and conjured one of the fantasies I usually use to get me off. Dominant men in positions of power, abusing their authority over me in order to get me to squeeze spunk from their aching cocks. I used my left hand to twitch the dildo in and out – slow, hard strokes at first, to match the first few cock thrusts or belt-thwacks given to me by the men I had conjured in my head. Meanwhile, the man sat behind me – whose dick was throbbing to be used – pinched my nipples tightly. Lifting slightly as if to hold me in place, making me tense my muscles to stay in position even as I fucked myself with both hands. As I got closer, I sped up – thudding the purple-and-white cock in and out of me as I ground my clit against the Doxy. And as I got to the point where my cunt started to tighten around the cock, I opened my eyes to look in the mirror. I saw his big hands pinching my nipples, my own hands busily working away at my cunt and my clit, and he flashed me a filthy grin. “Good girl,” he whispered, as my thighs started to twitch. “Good girl,” echoed the guy who was fucking me inside my own head. I closed my eyes for the final few strokes – hard, fast thuds of the dildo in my cunt, and the powerful thrum of the Doxy sending waves of sensation from my clit through to my hips. And as I closed my eyes I could see the men in my head, fucking me as hard as they ever had, and combine their movements with his voice. Each stroke of their dick accompanied by my partner’s voice, telling me ‘that’s it’ and ‘good girl’ and ‘come for me.’ And so I did. I came to what I like most – words and voices and controlling encouragement from hot, domly men. All the while giving him the visuals that he needs to get off – spread cunt, hard fucking, and the sight of me biting my lip as I come good and hard between his legs.