TW: some of these fantasies involve totally make-believe scenarios of non-consensual sex. Consent is definitely and always necessary IRL, but inside my head I am safe to explore darker themes without damage. If the idea makes you uncomfortable or distressed then this blog post is not for you, please don’t read on. Always take care of yourselves and each other.
What do you think about when you’re having a wank? Someone asked me this a long time ago and my response was erm; fucking, duh….isn’t that what everyone thinks about?
Since then, I’ve read a lot of sex blogs and books, talked to various different people – friends, online acquaintances, total strangers – and have come to realise that it isn’t anywhere near as much of a well, duh matter as Younger Me assumed. (Younger Me may well have been even more of a smartarse twerp than Present Me. I’m working on that, honest)
But what a revelation – wanking doesn’t have to involve picturing penetrative sex! Now there’s a ‘well, duh’ moment if ever there was one. My eyes have been opened and my mind broadened! In fact, now I really think about it, there’s only a narrow time window in my wanking during which I am actually imagining getting thoroughly pounded by ravaging cock (I pretty much always include that at some point though).
So what do I think about when having a wank?
If I’m doing the 5-minute power-assisted Utility Wank; probably not much except the feeling of whatever device I’m using on my clit. That’s for when I’m tired or ragingly horny but without time to spare. (Interestingly, the orgasms I have from those feel less intense and more functional than fulfilling).
When I’m wanking for fun, I want more than just a redlining rev count.
Starting off with the warmup…. usually prior to my actually getting my hands onto/into myself…
These fantasies have narrative, and detail, I switch from one to another as my arousal builds, seeking the flavour that matches my mood. Am I feeling playful? Intense? Darkly submissive? Let’s test which of these makes me horniest today…
I’m lying on top of my duvet on a sunny weekend morning, pyjama bottoms kicked to my ankles, top yanked up over my tits. One hand idly brushing my clit, the other sucking on my fingers. I look up and see the man at the window. He was supposed to be cleaning it but has stopped, transfixed and tumescent, at the sight of me pleasuring myself. I give him a cheeky wink and reach for a dildo. I’m going to give him a show he’ll never forget. He watches as I slowly slide my toy in and out of my wet cunt, raising it now and again to plunge it my mouth, holding eye contact all the while.
The hard-eyed, set-jawed look of intent hunger my boyfriend gives me when we sneak a moment together away from this party; the same expression he wears when he pins me beneath him and rips away my knickers. “I’m going to make you work so hard tonight” he growls softly into my ear. “I’m going to make you beg me to let you come”. He pulls me to him so that I can feel how hard he is then leads me back inside where he teases me with whispered threats and sly pinches until it’s time to leave.
All evening I’ve been coming onto this man. He’s just my type; articulate, authoritative and amusing. We spoke in hushed, anticipatory tones of bondage, of spanking, of dominance and depravity. He reaches up behind me and cups a firm hand around the base of my skull. “Come with me” he orders. He bends me over in the lift and spanks my bare arse, then pulls me up by the hair. In his room, he ties me down over the desk, spreads my legs wide and tells me in graphic, filthy detail what he is going to do to me and how much he will hurt me if I scream or struggle
Now I’m soaking wet, hunger sparks up from my core and tingles across my body. My face is flushed, my pupils dilated. My cunt is greedy, aching to be filled, my clit is swollen in readiness. Time to get hands-on.
From this point onwards, it’s all about sensation. Plot arcs dissolve, characters lose their features, detail becomes blurred. Now I just want input; fast, hard and filling
The sight of myself in front of the mirror, makeup smeared and gasping as I fuck myself
The mental image of three beefy guys in a warehouse, one is on all fours with his mouth and arse filled by the hard cocks of the other two. They slap his arse, pull his hair, make him gag, choke, buck his hips, struggle against their inexorable thrusting
The feeling of being filled; arse plugged, cunt clenching on the ribbed glass cock, mouth full of thrusting silicone shaft
Short, desperate breaths into the pillow; a race between orgasm and escape from suffocation
The taste of my hot cunt sucked from my own fingers
Picturing myself held down, tied, chained up; spread and helpless, beaten, choked, brutally pounded in every hole by dozens of faceless men and women
My own voice, or another’s, imagined or recalled – that’s it you fucking slut, come on you bitch, use that cunt hard, take it all, do what you’re told or I’ll really hurt you, oh you fucking bitch, that’s it, come for me now
The gathering fire of my orgasm as it builds and detonates, spills hot wetness from my cunt and helpless moans from my mouth.
The languorous afterglow of a satisfied mind and body.
That’s what I’m thinking about today