Stranglehold Squirting

I’m alright at sex.

I pretty much can’t say even that much about anything else in my life. But at sex I think I hold my own, I think I am ok at it.

think I’m ok at it because I really enjoy it and I really want who ever I’m doing it with to have a good time. I will make it my business to see that they have a good time. This determination, coupled with a genuine interest in it makes me … kind of ok at it, I believe.

I generally don’t come away from sexual encounters thinking I was out played or beaten or out matched.

But I was recently.

 

I have a friend who likes makeup and women’s underwear. He doesn’t share this predilection with many people but he’s lucky to have a few close girl friends who he has shared it with. I’m not sure why he is able to share it with us and not anyone else and not even many of his partners. He is pretty uptight about it, almost ashamed. You wouldn’t guess he was into this from looking at him or talking to him at all. There is no hint of it. And that is definitely the way he wants it.

But one night he was with a girl – it was their first night together (possibly their only night together) and her immediate go to move was to take her knickers off, throw them at him and tell him to put them on.

She proceeded to tell him he was a dirty little girl and slapped him across the face and told him she knew what he wanted and what he liked which was to be treated like the true little bitch that he is.

Now as it turned out, this is exactly what he wanted and even better he didn’t have to verbalise it. It was a dream come true for my friend. And he was in awe when he gave the details to me the following day. And I couldn’t get my head around it, how did she know what he wanted? How did she guess what he was in to? But more importantly how did she have the balls to bust out a move like that?

I got no answers. Then or since. And I still think that girl was a legend. He never said who it was.

 

This is all relevant because the other night, on my first night with a guy his very first move was to push me on to the bed then tell me to get on all fours. He stood behind me and pulled his leather belt out of the loops. He lifted my skirt and pulled down my tights then slipped the belt around my neck. He tightened it and it was long enough that he still had enough length to start slapping my arse with it.

 

None of this was an issue for me, let me state that for the record. This is most definitely what I’m into. And doled out in just the right measures. It was a personal Shangri-La.

 

But once again I have to ask: HOW DID HE KNOW? How did he just know that I would be into it? I cannot fathom how his very first move would be to take his belt off and simultaneously choke me with it and tan my arse. It’s not a very first night move is it. It certainly wasn’t anything that we’d discussed in length, or indeed at all.

But I was into it, I was deeply, achingly, soaking-ly into it.

After he had given my arse a hiding. He pushed me onto the bed and stood over me taking off the rest of his clothes. I turned myself around and propped myself up on my elbows panting, gasping and smirking at him, the belt was still around my neck like a leash.

He pulled off my tights and knickers then flattened me back onto the bed taking hold of the belt again. Kneeling between my thighs, he started to eat me as he tightened the grip on the belt making it taut again, returning me to the stranglehold.

I’m definitely in shock, I’ve lost my bearings and I have no idea what is happening except that I am in ecstasy.

He makes me come and I haven’t even been allowed near his cock yet.

I wriggle off his mouth and fingers, curling into a ball trying to calm down from the orgasm, while he pulls on a condom and commands me back onto my knees. He has to ask twice, I’m a mess.

He positions me where he wants me and tells me I’m going to take it like a good girl. But he doesn’t give it to me, he asks me do I think I deserve it, do I think I’ve been good enough. Oh god I can barely speak I want it so much.

 

Grasping my hips he ploughs into me steadily building his rhythm, getting harder with each stroke. The belt is still around my neck. As his thrusts get harder and faster he takes hold of it, yanking my head right back and pulling as hard as he can on it as he fucks me furiously. Pounding me relentlessly. Steadying himself with his grip on the belt. Can you picture that? Me on all fours, him behind me, fucking me hard while holding tight onto the leather that is strangling me and keeping me in place. My cunt aches now just to imagine it.

 

He is sating himself and I am just a conduit to that now. To be used.

 

When he’s had enough of choking me, he lets go of the belt and pushes my face into the pillow and grabs hold of my hair with both hands as he growls with pleasure, out of sight behind me. Again it’s not enough he needs to assert more power. He holds the back of my neck, pressing my face hard into the pillow as he slaps my already tender arse in time to his thrusts. And eventually roars as he comes really hard.

 

Glorious.

 

Magnificent.

 

And not the end of it by a long shot.

 

He had made a bold claim at the start that I had dismissed out of hand; not that he could but that he most certainly would make me squirt.

 

No suspense is gonna be drawn out, here is the chase I’ve cut right to it; I squirted. Big arcs of ejaculate fountained out of me. I was incredulous.

It smelled and tasted divine.

But for the life of me I cannot tell you how he did it. I know his mouth was down there for ages then fingers, then almost his whole hand was up inside me so I can only guess that he was pressing on my g-spot. I don’t really know. But he knew, and he knew I was about to come as he got himself into another position so that he could see it – this was no accident and whatever clues my body was giving that it was about to happen, he had read them. It was just his hand going in and out of me when the squirting happened, and he kept pumping me with it as the liquid shot out of me.

 

So, he out sexed me. He sniffed me out, gauged what I wanted without me ever telling him and then he proceeded to make a big bold claim and actually delivered on it.

This was no fluke, he’s done this before. He just knows how to make girls squirt, or so it seems.

Hands in the air, this guy knows a hell of a lot more about pleasing women than I do about pleasing men. He’s more knowledgeable and intuitive.

And I hate saying that.

 

We had sex all night and all morning until I kicked him out because my sister was calling round. And every time he went at me, he made me come. And a few times he brought me to the edge and didn’t let me.

I was owned …………………….and I don’t know how he did it and it’s making me crazy!

 

 

 

How did he just know?

How do you look at someone and just know what they’re in to? I think I have let my education slip, I need to up my game and raise the bar. I have a lot more learning to do.

Oh Yes, Yes, YES, Y E S

On the 23rd of May last year I was the proudest I ever was to be Irish.

I’m not ashamed of being Irish, I’d never hide it or deny it but you don’t get that much opportunity to be genuinely, heart-warmingly proud on an international scale. (I’m not going to go into detail of our many shames, but in case you’re unaware we’ve managed to mortify ourselves with scandal after scandal; sports, corruption, institutional child abuse, clerical child abuse, women’s reproductive rights and that’s where I trail off because you get the picture) We’ve let ourselves down as a nation consistently throughout my lifetime. But on 23rd May 2015 – we collectively, as a nation, overwhelmingly and by a huge majority, decided to be sound. That we agreed that marriage equality was a thing that we all supported and wanted enshrined in our constitution as a civil right for all.

 

I probably don’t need to tell you how much I supported this and the elation I felt at its achievement. That we had turned ourselves around as a nation, that we valued people as people and not as labels. And we were the first country to do it by popular vote. Ok, you can say that it should have been done as a matter of course that it shouldn’t have needed a referendum, and sure, you’re right. But the fact is we did have one and it was an opportunity for us to look at ourselves and be happy with what we saw, how we’ve changed. And I don’t care how much mud was slung or how much money was wasted I think the boost it gave the country was worth it.

 

Why am I talking about this… it’s slightly outside the Abbi Rode remit isn’t it? Well, on Saturday I am going to an engagement party (not for long I fucking hate those things). A party for a male colleague who is engaged to his male partner. And when he told me about the engagement I asked him who asked who – which started me thinking. The dawn of marriage equality is not just spelling the equality for gay people it’s the start of equality for everyone.

 

The more gay and lesbian couples who take the plunge and get engaged the more that question is going to be asked ‘So, who did the asking?’ It’s going to take a decade or two, I realise that, but it will happen it will become the norm for girls to ask girls, for guys to ask guys and eventually it will be acceptable for girls to ask guys and crucially here – FOR THAT TO BE OK. It will normalise the idea that it is a partnership and it is equal.

The onus is not on one sex to carry the burden of asking or indeed hold all the cards as to when. It will no longer be the fate of (some) girls to sit around and wait to be asked, fearing she may emasculate her guy if she asks first. It will be open to everyone, as much the responsibility and decision of one as the other.

And this can only be a good thing. For everyone – for moving forward as a society for breaking down the patriarchy, for levelling the playing field and raising the standards for us as humans.

 

In conjunction with that, the other question that tends to cause some ire, the issue of names, will also become far less contentious. Can you imagine anyone asking one half of a gay couple who was going to give up their name? Of course you can’t because it seems ridiculous – because you see them as equal, not one becoming part of the other as a matter of course. Wanting to be the same name as your partner is lovely, wanting your kids and your partner to all have the same name as you is of course a beautiful thought. But to automatically assume that it’s going to be done? This notion has to change, has to be challenged. I’m not issuing a decree saying that it has to now be the woman’s name, that all hetero couples take, that no child should ever share a surname with its father, I’d just like it to not be a given. It should be a discussion, a genuine one and not an assumption or an entitlement. Or indeed seen as a belligerent or aggressive if you want to have that discussion.

 

What’s in a name? Why get so upset? Well, why should I give mine up when I’ve worked hard all my life to understand who I am, under this name. Why should I have to give up my identity. And more importantly when the automatic default position is that the girl gives up her name, don’t you feel that sends a message to all other girls that they don’t matter quite as much as boys. That it’s the man who has primacy and the only one entitled to identity. It’s insidious and I think that with the advent of marriage equality we will see a shift in the thinking around this. As with wonderinging who did the asking it might get to the stage where no one cares who takes whose name, you only ask so you know how to address the Christmas cards.

 

If you’re a cis hetero couple and the bloke asked the girl to marry her and the girl took your name – I’m not vilifying you. Good for you. Make your decisions and enjoy them. I’m not judging or mocking you for it. But I’d like to see a world where more choices raised less eyebrows and caused less problems. And I believe that the emergence of marriage equality will be the catalyst that was needed for the redress of balance.

Men, you don’t need to have all the burden of it on you. Women, let’s teach our daughters that they are not chattel – given away by their fathers, to their husbands.

 

But I still don’t want to go to your wedding so don’t invite me. I still hate the things and that hasn’t changed.

 

 

 

And by the way Architect, a referendum that signals a positive change in a nation’s psyche IS bigger than a fucking general election. I’m sorry for your loss and all but general elections always give you the same old shite, nothing ever changes. THIS ACTUALLY MEANT SOMETHING.

Guest Piece – Desperate Fucking in The Raw

Here’s another guest piece that was very kindly shared and I didn’t do anything with it for inexplicable reasons. I’m a total voyeur and love reading about other people’s lives.

 

This is almost like prose. It’s beautiful.

 

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There’s still some debate as to how we got to the quiz.
Low level flirting about a trip to London, to find carnival costumes, and where we might stay.
Then group drinks and our circles getting evermore overlapped.
I suppose you could say the pre & post meeting drink for two, which inevitably led to necking like teens in an alley, might be it! But who knows……….
Anyway there’s something there.
And emails, texts and messages about your hot Secret Santa surprises only help turn it all up. So ending up in the toy shop buying a remote control vibrator just seems natural. Unbelievably exciting, sexual and risky; but natural all the same.

And you do as you are asked.
Pints ordered, package swapped and out you come. So confident, daring me to play.
So I do.
It’s an hour till we are joined, so we sit and talk and watch your reactions as I play through the settings. Low, medium (chat a bit), high (watch you suck in the air) then pulse and random.
I’m not one to torment but this is new and you play so well. Your knee on the table sends the higher settings through the wood; but the pub is filling up, noisy and expectant of a fun Christmassy night to come. And no one cares or notices us, all senses attuned to your slightest change.

We are joined, and on high you cope, but it’s hard to keep our hands away
Knees, thighs and the back of your skirt are so tempting.
Sitting on my palm I can press it hard against you and as I pull away your tights are wet.

The quiz is all but forgotten however hard we try, our team’s previous win is difficult to repeat here.

And you are restless suddenly, and your hand is in mine, batteries are gone! Fuck you have managed nearly 2 hours of this. You press the toy into my hand. I want to taste it then, but have to wait.
Another round.
Excuses are made.
Cigarette shared.
Alone in the toilets I can breath you in. Relish your arousal and your frustration.
But you trump me so easily, back at the table you press my hand again.
Your knickers; lace, tiny, soaking appear in my palm. I can do nothing but finger them. But you have to watch me inhaling you.

God it takes its time. And then it’s over, our teammates normally walk you back but we suddenly have more drinks, it’s goodbye and then they are left untouched as we bolt for the dark of the village.

Hand in hand
Mouth on mouth
Backs to the wall
We find our spot

You are so slick, after playing hand games for hours my fingers find your cunt
Hot and open and deep to me
You are running in my hand as stroke you on

And you find your knees
Hair in my hands
You work my cock across your lips and mouth and face
Hurried but apart from time
It’s footsteps that snap us back to the night

Giggling, arm in arm, we loop round just a step beyond who knows who
A friend?
A neighbour?
No one we want to see!
And ahead of the game we wind up back at the start

Facing the wall now
We press ourselves together
It’s urgent and rough but it’s the time we need
You thrust back to meet me
My hand holding your shoulder
Yours on the wall

My hand between your legs is soaking as I circle your arse with a finger then two then my cock as we find the pressure and rhythm that takes me in

You grasp my wrists
Supporting yourself on my arms and my dick
This is boozy, lusty, desperate fucking in the raw
How we’ve ached for this is nothing to how we will ache tomorrow from it
And our words match our bodies as we close

I want your shudders and you want my cum
And we get what we want
And the village is just us
Still and slick and glowing with sex

And as I walk you home with my hand in your cunt your arm around me
I just know I want this more

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Almost poetry.

Far lovelier than any way I describe these things….

Bum Sex

Bum Sex  – Is Abbi Faking it? People need to know the truth.

 

Once again I’ve had to have a look at myself and wonder: Am I being a dickhead? Am I being unreasonable here? Do I actually believe the lines I spout?

I like it in the bum. I haven’t always, and it’s only with a select few (ok, just the one) that I really enjoyed it with. But on those occasions I did really enjoy it. I know I do like it because when I’m by myself I have on a few instances put something in there and gotten myself off. You can read about that here.

My point being, I’d hardly do something all by myself if I wasn’t into it. So I think we can accept that I do like it a bit. But it’s not my favourite thing ever, and I don’t want it every time. There are a few reasons, it always hurts a bit, no matter how gentle you are or how much lube you use it hurts. I’m mostly ok with that. And it hurts for a few days after too, which is fine when it’s your pussy and nothing is going near it, but not so fine when it’s your bumhole and you need to use it twice a day. Added to that, I am never going to climax from bum sex alone. I am actually not going to orgasm from anything other than my clit being stimulated.

Ok, so why do I do it? Because even with all the extra factors that I have to consider, some of them not so pleasant, I still enjoy it. I love the tight, full feeling of being stretched. I love two fingers in my ass as a cock works my pussy – it pulls everything tighter and it changes the sensation. I love the feeling of a smooth dildo being worked in my ass as my pussy is fucked with his dick. Again the full feeling, the knowledge that he can get himself off rubbing the dildo off the head of his cock through the walls of my skin. And the sensation of the dildo ploughing my ass feeling like nothing else.

And I like it when a dick is finally worked fully into my hole, past the pain and discomfort to the tight, good feeling. When he pushes hard and I feel it work something deeper in me – it’s hard to find or describe but it’s there, this spot where it feels divine.

 

I love all of that.

 

But as I said, just my ass being fucked won’t get me off. I’ll need other things. I do it because it’s a nice addition to other proceedings, I’ll do it cos I like the feeling, the sensation and because it feels filthy to me, to be had like that. But it’s never the only thing.

 

Now as much as I like it and I never want to see any sexual act that I do as a favour bestowed on anyone, there is one caveat that is attached to bum sex. I am reluctant to let anyone into my ass if I can’t go in theirs. And someone pointed out to me recently that this was unreasonable.

 

Is it? Is this an unreasonable stance for me to take?

I don’t think it is. Managing to take anyone up my arse it quite a feat, I want this to be appreciated and acknowledged; and not just by words but by knowing from experience.

 

I think what’s actually unreasonable is to ask someone to do something that you aren’t willing to do yourself.

Him: Can I fuck you in the arse?

Me: Can I fuck you in the arse?

Him: What! No, this is a one way street! HA why would you ask that.

Me: Why would you ask it?

Him: Cos I’d like to fuck you in the arse

Me: Well that’s ok, you can fuck my arse as long as I can put something the same size as your penis up yours.

Him: Why? Why does it have to be reciprocal, I want to go in your pussy too does that mean I should have my cock replaced?

Me: You’ve missed the point, we both have assholes we don’t both have the same genitalia. Bit rich expecting someone to do something you’re not willing to do yourself

Him: Would you like to go into my asshole or are you just theorising.

 

 

I won’t bore you with any more of that conversation but I’ll sum it up: his point was that if I wanted it why was I stopping myself from having it, and if he wasn’t into receiving it himself, why was I insisting that I got to go in his.

And this had me thinking, was I being unreasonable? And also did I really like it, as he implied that I didn’t.

 

 

It took me a few weeks, and the answer is no and yes. No I’m not being unreasonable and yes I do like it, but I like it a certain way. It’s not a ridiculous stance simply because it’s my body, my sex life and my sex standards that I set for myself and I don’t have to discard them for anyone. My personal belief is that anal is kind of a big deal for me, I need you to appreciate that or I’m not doing it with you, I won’t enjoy it. It’s more intimate and I need a level of trust that I mostly don’t need with the rest of sex. And if you want me (or anyone you’re sleeping with) to do something that we won’t enjoy then that’s something you should look at within yourself.

Maybe you need to go on 5 dates with someone before you kiss them, maybe you need to be in love with someone before you have sex.

I don’t know what your standards for intimacy are. But the point is they are your standards for intimacy and what you’re ok with and someone else’s need doesn’t get to trump yours. If this guy doesn’t want to know how good it might feel with a finger in his ass, that’s totally fine, but he then doesn’t get to put anything in mine. It’s not about making anyone do anything that they don’t want to do it’s about respecting someone’s intimacy needs.

 

 

And now I’m going to go have a wank thinking of the last good ass sex I had.

He was prepping me with a little finger in there first, then two big fingers, which he twisted around to stretch and widen me. With his hand twisted round he got his thumb on my clit and another finger into my ass. I was writhing and bucking down onto his hand enjoying the almost overload of sensation, almost missing watching his face as he surveyed what he was doing to me. And then it brooked and crashed over me, I came. A surprise I wasn’t expecting, this was supposed to just be prep for taking his cock in my ass. I started to apologise but he laughed and pushed his hand harder into me everywhere until I couldn’t take it anymore and wriggled out from underneath him; positioning myself ready for his cock to edge slowly into my arse.

Slowly, so slowly he edged his considerable size into my hole, holding my hips but telling me to control it. Encouraging me, telling me how good I was, making me want him.

Until he got it right in and then fucked me with good hard thrusts.

 

And I loved it.