I Wish I Wanted To Bang Myself …

I’ve written this out. Properly on paper like I always do when I’m at work. And I have the sheets beside me, torn out of the hardback notebook. And I can’t read them.

Not cos of awful handwriting, I just don’t want to read them. But I have to if I’m going to get this piece written. And I want to write this piece.

I follow a girl on Twitter. And I wish to god I could be like her. For so very many reasons, she’s whip smart and astute. Well-read and knowledgeable, has impeccable style, is upbeat and encouraging and puts bullies down swiftly and deftly. She has a fulltime job, Djs on the side, runs a blog and manages to somehow read about 5 books a week. I don’t know how the girl does it. She’s a dynamo. But the main thing I love her for is her attitude towards her body. And I wish so hard that I could emulate it.

In a recent tweet she talked of standing naked in the mirror and looking for any part of her body that she disliked or thought wasn’t perfect, and couldn’t find any. I wish I could look at any part of my body and think it was perfect. I can get some of it into an ok light for a pic that I’m ok posting. Or other bits that I can manipulate. But always, always there’s some part that I abhor and I’m hoping to god no one can see it.

Where does this come from? Why am I so convinced that my body is awful, why is so much of my self worth tied to the belief that I need to be thin to be valued? And why do I feel like such a failure that I’m not. I look at other bodies, bigger than mine and I can see the unequivocal beauty in them. I have seen this same girl in a bikini on a beach and thought she looked stunning – pale, chubby, not trying to hide anything or angle it away. Just as she is and glorious. Confidence beaming out of her. And yet I can’t do that for myself, I can’t look at myself and see any beauty without also seeing the imperfection. I can look at her and think; well she is statuesque and her skin is porcelain. Her boobs are bigger and they set off her whole look…. Numerous other comparisons as to why her body is worthy of worship and mine isn’t. Always comparing. Always coming up short.

Can you imagine walking around all day happy with your body? Can you imagine the mental peace of that? Do you even have to?

Well I can’t and I don’t even remember the last time I did feel at ease. Maybe when I was 9 years old? I certainly knew that at age 10 I was talking about being fat and how terrible a thing that was to be. At 10….

That’s a long time to be thinking that you’re body isn’t good enough.

If you’re not happy why don’t you work out? Eat better? Well yes, very good. Except for one, I actually do work out and I have quite a good handle on nutrition. But it’s never good enough, I can never get my body to a place I’m happy with no matter how hard I try. And anyway, that’s wholly not the point; where has the notion come from that my body isn’t worthy just as it is?

Now it hasn’t stopped me going to the beach or to the gym or getting naked in front of partners. It doesn’t stop me still walking around my parents’ house in the nip either. I’m comfortable enough with nakedness but with the juxtaposition of also thinking that what I’m showing is not anything that is worth looking at. I have never walked on a beach and not been horrified with myself – even at my fittest.

I will get dressed and think I look ok, good even. Highlighting what I want people to focus on. And then I’ll leave the house, catch a glimpse of myself from another angle and think I actually look awful. It won’t ruin my night but I don’t know why I do it. Why my brain needs to constantly assess and reassess and isn’t happy until it can find me something that’s unacceptable about how I look.

I’m not going to claim to be fat or have had to deal with any real fatphobic incidents, I’m not out to irk anyone by claiming that I identify as that.  I’m ordinary and average and not trying to appropriate anyone’s space. So I lurk and like all over the body positive posts but I won’t join in because I feel I won’t be accepted there in the fat circles – and I get that, I’m not properly fat so why would people believe me. But what is real and unassailable is my belief that my body is not good enough. And everything I see around me seems to tell me that that notion is correct because it’s not toned and tanned and perfectly without lumps.

I am hoping though, that by reading the posts and reading how people are accepting of themselves that some of it will rub off on me. That I will somehow learn how not to hate my own body.

A long time ago I decided that if I was going to be able to cope with this at all I had better just work out and deal with it. That I could alleviate some of this stress by taking control of it. And it helps a bit when I do work out. But I fell off the wagon a while back. And my BFF picked me up and found us a new gym, a kickstart to get me back on track. I threw myself into this 100%. Up at 5.30am for work outs and following extra nutrition tips. But 5 months later I still didn’t look any better. To say that this dented my confidence is really not grasping it at all. And then to hear that I was technically obese? That was it. I couldn’t cope. I had tried so hard and had gotten nowhere. What was the point in trying?

I won’t give up working out entirely, I know I can’t, I like having stamina and being fit. But I need to find a way to make peace with my body at every stage of fitness. Peace will only come from accepting it, not from chasing some idea of perfection.

In an effort to meet that head on I decided to open an Instagram for Abbi. To show myself as I really am. Because up til now, you never saw my stomach, or my saddle bags or my cellulite. I hid it all and presented only the bits I wanted you to see, and only in the most flattering light. And I nearly faltered at the first post. I just couldn’t bring myself to post the pics that I took that were honest. But I got some lovely comments on Twitter and I stuck with it. I photographed myself in about 14 sets of underwear and by the end of it I actually hated myself a tiny bit less.

I’m not doing it to gain validation from likes, I’m doing it to force myself to look at myself and find the beauty. I’m doing it to have another body type out there, to add to the selection to remind people that we don’t all look the same and this is not only ok but it’s a good thing.

And I also know that no amount of likes are going to make me like myself, nothing can do that but me  – I have to change my own mindset.

I am hoping to god that I can.

On the day I was told that I was technically obese, I fell out with a friend. I try not to say negative or down things on Twitter, I try to keep it upbeat and light, even when I don’t feel that way. But on this day, after having been working so hard I tweeted about being ‘a bit put out’ when in fact I was utterly devastated. Crushed in fact. I felt hopeless and worthless and like I’d never failed so hard in my life. But I stupidly tweeted about it. And this friend most likely not knowing how fragile I was made a joke about his own body suggesting I should take this with a pinch of salt. And I flipped out. From another person I might have been able to take it but not from someone with a perfect body, and I’ve seen enough of it to tell you that it is pretty perfect. What the hell did he know about it? When was the last time he was ridiculed for his efforts? When did he ever feel lesser because of his body?

Who knows. I certainly don’t. But his glib and probably quite innocent response cut through me. And we haven’t spoken since, in fact I doubt we ever will again.

We weren’t the best of friends, it’s not a huge loss but it’s an example of things even on the periphery that can also be lost when we are consumed with seeing our worth in how we look.

I don’t want to lose anything else. Except my belief that I have to be fit to be worthy.

*Inspirational Girl mentioned is Arched Eyebrow and her blog is here

Please don’t contact me with fitness tips. Or comments about my body, I’m not fishing for compliments. And this post isn’t brave or clever, I’m just another idiot struggling like everyone else. And I don’t mean to be churlish.

Things I Fucking Love

Here’s a list of things I like. I did one where I listed all the things I don’t like – many of the things people tend to love, like attending weddings, Spotify, lamb, peaches – you know, typical abominable stuff.

Anyway again with the view that my version is skewed here are some things I like that people may not agree with. But things that I have an inordinate fondness for.

Really well done toast – I probably don’t mind if it’s burnt

Bunsen cheese burgers – bloody as hell, yeah I want to dip my crispy chips in the blood and make no apologies for it

Chinese chips – I really prefer them to the chipper. All crispy and dry and cooked with the spring rolls. Always consistently good.

Avocados – I love these to the point that I feel sorry for people who don’t have avocados in their life.

Reading articles by journalists I rarely agree with and borderline hate; Katie Glass in the Sunday Times – the woman is a tool, but I always read her. It’s good to know what others think, even when you don’t agree.

Tunnocks Tea cakes – and no other. NO OTHER. I am severely unimpressed with and will never plumb for an ordinary tea cake in a selection of treats presented. Unless it is in that silver and red foil. Then I want 6.

Eggs – all kinds of eggs except fried, I won’t eat those. Or crème eggs, yuck

The combined smell of Ariel and Lenor

Really good breakfast tea – or at the very least Barry’s

When I see a kid give up their seat for an older person, without being asked

A bottle of Huia Sauvignon Blanc

2 bottles of Huia

Saucy underwear on stupid and pointless Tuesdays

Cycling my bike when I’m too sore from having been fucked and knowing all about it – I love reminding myself with every bump in the road

Getting butter all over The Sunday Times

Just The Sunday Times

Every single song by The Stone Roses – but especially Sally Cinnamon and Ten Story Love Song

When my mother acts like a mother and says the exact right thing and I get to be the child and not the parent for a brief second.

Broad City – I love Ilana’s obsession with Abby, I’m afraid I am that obsessed with my BFF and my sister and they are mostly stoic about it.

Good wine glasses

Finding out someone I fancy doesn’t smoke

Guys who aren’t squeamish

Guys who can identify as feminist and don’t see an issue with it

Having a cock in my mouth – I love this so much more than things I’m supposed to. Possibly more than members of my family.

Dublin’s Fair City – one of the true loves of my life, I adore this place

Seafood – all of it!

3fe coffee

Cloud Picker coffee

Tom Ford perfumes – namely Costa Azzurra and Neroli Portofino. Although I might ditch them as I’m not sure my means can support this extravagnat habit

Halloween! I fecking love it. But know this; if you dress sexy for my party, you are not coming in as you have wholly missed the point. 2, Halloween is not American, we exported it and we’ve been at it for 1,000s of years. The Irish word for November is Samhain which means Halloween. (it’s pronounced Sow-hin, they butchered it in one of the Halloween movies but still, at least they gave it a shout out.)

Downton Abbey


Trainspotting – it’s one of my favourite books

Leopard Print – I fear the day I’m over 40 and can no longer wear it without hearing ‘Get aahht of ma pub’ in my head.

High heels, and by the way 2 inches is not a high heel, get to fuck with that notion. 4 inches and over is a high heel

Boys that are loads taller than me so I can wear high heels

Nike work out gear – keep your sweast shop lecture, I don’t care

Getting waxed – dunno when or how but I actually like it now. I like all the sensations that go with it; the heat, the pain, the slightly swollen tenderness after… I’m into it

Fallon’s Pub – down by St Patrick’s Cathedral

Eating healthy Monday to Friday then eating a load of chicken balls at the weekend

People who get my first name right – who get it all by themselves, cos they’ve listened to others say it and have picked it up.  No schooling, no explanation, just got it right and made no issue

Rugby – the most decent of sports and the only one I’ve any interest in

My surname – how it sounds, what it means, how easy it is to pronounce yet how uncommon it is. South East Asia, South America, China, Japan, Europe and The UK – no one ever pronounces it incorrectly. It’s always been such a salve to my stupid first name.

A guy with a windsor knot in a well-fitting suit – not just any suit, and not just any old tie, it is all negated if the suit is ill fitting and it has a school boy’s knot

Sour cream and onion Tayto Ripples – the large bag

Sparkling water – I go through 2 litres a day

Today FM

Electric Picnic

The Leprechaun Museum – just go

The Journal.ie

Welsh accents

Not wearing pyjamas – I fucking hate loungewear or “comfy” clothes, stick your pjs up your hole. I will wear knickers & maybe a t-shirt if it’s cold.

Roger Moore as James Bond – yeah, yeah I’m ready for the backlash

JK Rowling

The Atlantic Ocean – trumps the Irish Sea any day. Sorry East coast, but the west is better

Breton tops

My red beret

Hazel eyes – I know everyone says blue, which are nice, but hazel is my favourite

When I find out a boy I like has no interest in Soccerball

Cycling round Dublin when it’s really early or kinda late – while it’s quiet, I feel like I’m in my own private Guinness ad

Taking sneaky half days off work to go afternoon drinking

People with excellent grammar

A buachaill with a cúpla focail as gaeilge. Words like ‘aghaidh’ and ‘suí síos’ and ‘cailín dána’

Running my hand over a freshly shaved head

The hope that a guy I want to sleep with may one day wax himself for my unbridled delight



And lots of other stuff.


But the last one that I love that I’m not supposed to – dick pics. I do rather enjoy them. Not from anyone, from dicks I know. But I also don’t mind ones I don’t know. I generally always like to see. I may live to regret that.

Guest Piece – Cum Play and Finger Banging

Quite miraculously, this delicious piece of filth from a guy called Arthur landed into my inbox last week. I was delighted to receive it.

Just to note, this finger banger is not the one who banged me recently. This is entirely unknown to me. I hope you enjoy it.




The door clicks closed. Of all the moments that will follow I like to savour this one the most. We both have an idea of what is about to happen but it won’t play out like we are thinking. It would be no fun if it did. We know the smiles on our faces do little to mask the filth in our heads at right now. I want just one thing from her and that is the realization in her face that this hasn’t happened before. That somehow, without trying anything new, she would feel like she had never come like this before.

We kiss for a moment and she backs onto the bed. The taste of her lip balm always reminds me of pounding her, I’m not sure when or where but it does; lost in her and violently passionate that’s what it evokes but I’ve never told her that. I keep that for myself. I slowly pull down her knickers to reveal a freshly waxed cunt. I want nothing but to dive into it but that’s not how this plays out. Lifting herself up on her elbows, she starts to trace her foot down my chest. My cock springs up when I quickly dispose of my briefs. She bites her lips with a slight smirk as she looks at me towering over her at the edge of the bed. I notice that she is resisting looking at my rock hard cock. She is teasing herself. She is teasing me. Perfect.

Lowering myself I slide my head between her legs, I gently trace my fingers from her calves to her thighs. I kiss around her cunt. Slowly and firmly. She lets her guard down and closes her eyes. She wants to moan, I can see it, but I won’t let her get one out of her mouth, she is subdued to silence by one utterance from me; a soft and loaded ‘shussssh’ which means not yet.

She’s then not expecting this, a direct return to play. I give her clit a quick flick of my tongue before sliding the rest of my body right up between her legs. The tip of my cock now able to kiss her cunt as my eyes meet hers. She inhales sharply. And I am rewarded with the knowledge that she really didn’t expect that. I apply pressure with my cock. Then I kiss her, finishing with me biting her lip. It’s cheesy but it’s never unappreciated. My right thumb traces underneath her left breast and up towards her stiff nipple. I feel goose bumps. She wants me in her, to be fucked hard right now and I can’t give it to her.

I lift myself up on my knees. She is breathing heavily. I trace her pussy lips with my cock, being careful not to get in too far. I lean back and I let go of my now throbbing cock. From the corner of my eyes I can see her clench her feet. Her legs are restless, she wants more, needs it. I know exactly how wet she is right now, without touching. Again I grip my cock and move it towards her swollen lips, hoping she’ll think it’s going in, it’s not. I have it gripped with one hand but two fingers underneath the shaft ready to slide into her instead. I get my two fingers inside her before she realises it’s not my cock. At long last I get my first uncontrolled moan. This one I knew she couldn’t keep in. There is nothing quite like it. She is not the same from here on in. Control is now literally in my hands alone.

I work her slowly with just these two fingers. My palm is facing the ceiling as I make the “come here” gesture with my fingers inside her. She is so fucking wet. Her back is arched. Her eyes are closed. Her moans are low now but that won’t be for long. I bring my head down to her clit and blow on it lightly. She has waited long enough; I put my lips on her clit, sucking lightly. My fingers get faster sliding them back and forth, steadily in and out. And of course a thumb on her clit, now. I trace the fingers on my left hand along her thighs. She moans loudly. It won’t be long now.

She comes as loud as I’ve ever heard her come. Her body is shaking as she begins to push her pussy towards my face. I have to taste her properly. My mouth takes her in as I squeeze her thighs with both hands, my tongue and lips lightly sucking in as much as they can reach. She tightens her thighs around my head as I get my tongue deep inside her for the end of her orgasm.

She knows what’s next. I rise to my knees. Precum actually dripping from the tip of my cock. A wave of pleasure runs through me as she carefully wipes it off with her finger and tastes me. As always she looks me in the eye, and runs her finger underneath the tip of the head which lights up my dick with pleasure. And I know it’s my turn.

I have her hands pinned behind her head pretty quick. In one movement I’m sliding fully inside her. There is the look I’ve wanted on her face. It has taken her till now to realize that it all hasn’t been done like this before. She’s had her orgasm and now she just wants to be fucked hard. I am stretching her nicely. I quickly up the pace to meet her desire. She is building. We both are. I keep a firm steady rhythm. Each stroke is from tip to base. She’ll feel this tomorrow, I want her to. I know she wants to. The thought of her feeling where my cock has been for days sends me over the edge.

We both come hard. There is no way she can’t feel my cock pulse inside her. Blindsiding me and swiftly getting the base of my cock, she pulls me out and makes sure the last bit of cum is for her mouth. She has got her wish. We kiss and I find that she hasn’t swallowed….yet. I wasn’t expecting that. I have a new memory to think of now when I taste her lips again.




Thanks Arthur, now I have a burning urge to have someone eat their come out of me….

Fingers – Please Fuck me With Just Your Fingers

Exactly one calendar month. And I was starving. As much as I enjoyed it last time, I didn’t come. But there was no fear of that this time.

‘I’ll be up early in the morning, I have to be in Dublin for work’

‘How early is early?’

‘About 8am’


I was out of the shower and had on the underwear I had bought. If I have time, I usually have new underwear for him. Which is not to say that I wouldn’t do it for anyone that I loved fucking this much, I would, he’s just been the main beneficiary of it for the last while.

I text him to tell him let himself in, the door’s open. He says I’m an idiot and tells me to lock my door.

I don’t, I want him to come in.

I’m rubbing in body lotion as he comes up the stairs. I tell him I’m not ready but I know he doesn’t care. My cunt is waxed, my legs are smooth and my skin is soft as a baby’s. Not even care that I have no makeup on and my hair is still wet. Once I know every inch of me is a delight to touch and that the underwear looks great – then I’m happy to be devoured.

He comes up the stairs with intent, I can almost hear him growl approval at me. We meet at the landing and his eyes over me are the starter I wanted.

‘Fucking look at you!’ he says as we grab each other and start kissing. He still has his beard, I am happy to see. I break away and turn to run into the bedroom before he picks me up and can drag me there. The bed isn’t made, I tell him, and I’m not doing it on a bed with no sheets. He looks at me like he’s going to argue but then lets me grab a clean sheet. As I bend over to put it over one corner he predictably and thankfully, slips my knickers down, with a noise of approval for them. I reprimand him and tug them back up. Again telling him that this sheet has to go on before he can get on. And so he helps me get the other 3 corners secured.

With that done, he doesn’t put me on the bed, he kisses me again lets me see his thickening hard on, even lets me feel it for a second and then turns me towards the wall. He has my hands pressed into it with his own as he breathes me in deeply. He opens his belt, and then tells me to spread my legs a bit. He pulls my knickers aside and then slides his dick between my thighs. And then he tells me to close my legs a bit, to hold his cock in place. I can feel it throbbing and I want it but I can’t get it to where I need. But he knows this.

He then puts his fingers in my mouth and slips them back inside my knickers, just barely grazing the lips, not really letting me feel anything. ‘And you look fantastic, by the way’ he then says. His mouth is at my ear, his dick is between the tops of my thighs and his fingers are teasing my ever swelling lips. I start to move and he pushes his fingers in a bit, a little deeper, but just inside the lips, just barely circling my clit. Then he takes them away. I think he’s going to slip them into my mouth again but he doesn’t, he puts them in his, just centimetres from mine. I cry out and he kisses me and turns me around. I am now with my back to the wall, he places both my hands over my head and tells me not to move. He says it again, quieter, right up in my face, his eyes flicking from mine to my lips. I say nothing. He gets on his knees and starts to kiss my pussy through the lace of my underwear. I can take this for less than 30 seconds when I start to move against him, my hips trying to beg for more. And in less than a second he stands up and pulls me up too, he has me pinned against the wall, my legs wrapped around him as our mouths devour each other. He holds me there for longer than I think is possible before delicately turning around and lying me on the bed. He’s thinking of not letting me have it but he does, he tells me to take his cock in my mouth – but foolish me, it’s only for seconds, he has a plan to get back to.

I am flat on the bed and he crawls up between my legs, then makes a point of putting his cock away. Damn he’s mean. But I know that’s not the end. He pulls my knickers down and kisses me lightly on the mound then grabs my ankles and pulls me to the edge of the bed. He is now standing over me at the end, I am lying with my legs either side of him. I am laid out before him, he has all the control. I prop myself up on my elbows and he leans down to kiss me, sneaking his fingers into my pussy.

I gasp and he smiles. Of course he can elicit any reaction he wants from me. And this is what turns me on; knowing that he is getting off on what he does to me, knowing that is he is doing this to me to watch, to see how my body will perform for his touch. I love knowing that he is scrutinising my reactions and getting aroused by it. He wants to see how he can own me and I want to see it too.

I think, but I don’t know, that he slides in two wet fingers, he slowly slides them in and out, getting them wetter but not faster, not yet. Then he twists them as they are in me and he moves his thumb up to my clit and starts to circle it. I start to writhe on the bed and he pushes me flat back, and with his hand still in me he leans over and kisses me. This is all I want. To have him in control, to not know what he’s doing with his hand as he does what he likes to build my climax. Working his hand in and out of me, tasting me but watching my reactions, kissing me deeply getting me to lose myself as he stays in charge of it all. Begging for more of all of it.

But he has work to do, and he pulls himself back and changes tack with his fingers. He works three deft fingers into my eager and wanting cunt, then twists them slowly as I moan for him. This time the shape his hand makes leaves a knuckle circling my clit, I’m so perfectly wet and able for this increased pressure. And then he pulls his fingers forward as they are deep in me, finding my g spot and working it. I am making more noise, I can’t stay still. My back is arched and he is working me towards a huge orgasm. Fucking me with his hand then, pulling his fingers so they press on my g spot, then circling my clit. And he repeats this. Or at least that’s what I think he’s doing. It’s a perfect storm of sensation. And I can’t help or ruin this, I can’t press down or wriggle. There is nothing I can do to intensity it or speed it up, I just have to take it. I just have to let go and let him do what he had so clearly set out to do. I’m rarely privy to these plans before he executes them. But I am in no doubt that he had intended to stand over me and make my come with his hands.

As his hand fucks me harder and I get louder I tell him I’m close, not that he needed to be told. And without me telling him, he focuses on just circling the clit, knowing that’s what I need most to finish this. His fingers still in me, a thumb or knuckle steadily works my clit until I clench hard and come magnificently.

I am still moaning and writhing when he gets his mouth on it. My swollen, wet, aching lips. And gently he kisses and licks me until another wave rushes over me and I think I could die. His lips lapping delicately at my cunt. His tongue flicking over my pulsating clit.. I buck and twist and scream his name.


‘Did you see that! Did you feel it! Fuck me it was huge!’ He just smiles at me, laughs actually. ‘Your…. That … skill with  …..your fingers…. It’s incredible, I wasn’t even sure what you were doing half the time’. I just about manage to say. I am wrapped in his arms on the bed and he slips his hand back into me and presses on my g spot and says ‘This?’ I can barely take it and I tell him I have to pee and try to wriggle out of his arms. He holds me there, I swear this man’s life mission is to get me to squirt and he insists he’s close when I have that needing to pee feeling. I remain unconvinced and he releases me so I run downstairs to pee, I can’t do anything until I do.

When I come back up he is naked, sitting on the bed, framed by the door, with his fuck off hard on in front of him, he’s not even touching it. I smirk at him and get on my knees to crawl over to it.

He doesn’t let me have it, he guides my mouth close to it then tells me not to move. He slowly moves his foreskin back to reveal some precum. But when I go to lick it he pulls away. Warns me that I was told not to move. Again he returns his cock head to right beside my mouth and pulls back his foreskin, teasing me. ‘Open your mouth’ I do. ‘But don’t move, don’t suck it’. He’s being sadistic now but of course I love it. With me on my knees, naked between his legs, mouth open, he rubs the head of his glistening cock all around my lips – never letting me get at it. ‘Now put your tongue out’ he gets the head wet then goes back to rubbing it all over my lips. I’m in agony now, I want him in my mouth so much. He pulls back his foreskin once more and points, tells me to lick all around underneath the rim of the head. Both sides and then he finally lets me suck it. Deep, wet and all the way back my throat. I lick it everywhere and all down his balls and underneath. I get it as wet as I can and work it with my hand too. I am barely at this for a full minute when he says it; almost a moan, ‘God I love how you suck my cock, I love what you do with it’. This both turns me on and gratifies me. I do love sucking his cock, but I love even more how not one stroke of what I do is ever taken for granted.


I climb up on the bed and he follows me, telling me he had no intention of giving me any dick this morning; that he was going to make me wait until he came back in the afternoon. And we both laughed at the notion that that would ever be possible. Although mine was slightly more nervous than his, I think he could, if he put his mind to it; make me come, do what he liked with me and deny me his cock…. I thinkhe could but I don’t know.

He lies on top of me, rubbing his cock slick from being licked and sucked, against my lips that are still wet from coming not very long ago. He slides it up and down my lips, working it back and forward, getting everything good and wet, both of us being teased with this. He then catches the hood of my clit and starts to circle it, still not having entered me at all. I move underneath him, greedy and hungry for it. He still takes his time. He presses down harder and manages to open me a bit; he is a tiny bit inside me. Again he moves back and forth, sliding over my clit and into my lips. Each time going a little deeper never getting any faster. Edging into me, controlling me as I try to grab his ass and pull him in deeper. Controlling me as I raise my hips trying to get him more into me. Nope. This is his pace and he is going to own it.

Finally with a last push he is fully in me and I gasp. He thrusts hard and I feel all of his length. And my body explodes with the sensation. And he then starts to fuck me, properly, steadily, making me feel every inch of him with every stroke. I beg for more but he stays steady and then I feel it, another orgasm build and take over me. I am bucking and writhing underneath him and cannot control it. I don’t know if he felt mine, or it was because I said it, but he then started to come and we both came together. I can’t remember the last time that happened. He came hard inside me.


He has to go then, and I am too blissed out to care to ask him if he’s coming back and what time. I pull the duvet over me and sink into the most blissed out state I think I have ever felt in my life. Fresh, clean sheets, my soft skin tingling and the euphoria of multiple orgasms pumping through my veins – and with no obligation to be anywhere for the whole day.

I drift off to sleep and wake only to him back at my door. Looking for lunch.

This is undoubtedly the best Monday of my life.



*No.  No he didn’t get any lunch. We got distracted. But he did charmingly remind me of the time I made him a bacon and avocado sandwich on sourdough – he remembers the details too so it seems.