Fluttery Little Fingers

I seem to have developed a love for online shopping. I think that it began with the purchase of my dildo and escalated when I bought that first short lived vibrator. On Thursday a couple of new toys arrived. I had bought a couple of glass vibrators, mainly because they were aesthetically blessed. To top off their good looks they also came in the loveliest little boxes. I am the first to admit that I am a whore for good packaging. These toys had certainly managed to do very well in that department, easily outdoing the packaging of my previous purchases.

I couldn't wait to test out my new toys, but there was one little hurdle I had to overcome first. I didn't have the correct sized batteries! Of course this happened during a time when I was without a car, so it meant I had to walk down to the supermarket for the second time that day. When I arrived back home, my Facebook was flashing at me, saying that Mr Good-Company had messaged me. I had sent him a picture earlier that day of one of my breasts, saying that I wanted him to bite me. It seemed that this had gone down well.

Later that night I went over to Mr Good-Company's, bringing with me my new toys, my camera, my dildo, lube and a rather belated birthday present for him. After watching a few episodes of Doctor Who our minds turned to less 'PG' activities and we moved into Mr Good-Company's bedroom

We began by figuring out my new toys, one of which has the rather humorous ability to flash light in time with the vibrations. After figuring out the toys and the camera it was time to remove the rest of our clothing, with Mr Good Company taking a photo of my bra clad chest as soon as my shirt was removed.

With myself sitting between his legs, leaning my back against his chest, Mr Good Company began to put my first toy, the pink g-spot stimulator, to work. After he had used that vibrator for a while, Mr Good-Company began with the second, before rearranging us so that we were once again in the 69 position with himself on top of me, his cock in my mouth, his mouth on my clit and a vibe in my pussy. After I came the dildo once again became involved and things fast began to lead toward my latest curiosity, fisting.

During the week and a half since the first attempt I had constantly felt that I might change my mind, that I might back away, that the pain was just too much. I think that this fear developed from how spaced out I was that first time. I don't like losing control like that, not being able to speak, not knowing that I was screaming, not knowing what exactly Mr Good-Company was doing. It had me rather freaked out.

But I still wanted to try it again. I don't believe in knuckling under because of a first less-than-ideal experience. Starting off with the dildo as he had the first time, Mr Good-Company then made the switch to fingers and then hand.

This time I was much more conscious of what was happening. I could feel when Mr Good-Company began to use just his hand. I could feel him rotating his hand at the wrist, sliding his hand further and further inside of me. I could also feel the most pleasant new sensation, one that gave me hope that eventually these attempts could lead to more pleasure than pain.

I could feel the strangest little fluttery movements deep inside me. I made the vague assumption that this was Mr Good-Company moving his fingers, but I wasn't sure until I later asked him if this was the case. I assume it was such an odd feeling only because I'm not used to feeling things move that deep inside of me. When being fingered obviously the movement is much closer to the entrance and also a different kind of movement. This little fluttery movement felt so pleasant, I imagine if it had continued for a bit longer and if I hadn't been in so much pain then I would have come quite hard from it.

While all of this was happening I had my hands holding tightly onto the arm that was working it's way inside of me, doing my thing of squeezing hard when I needed a moments rest. I really wanted to do it this time, we were so close, but in the end the pain was just too much. I found my voice and said that was enough for now.

When Mr Good-Company returned from washing the lube of his hand he said that there was a little bit of blood. He followed this by saying 'I think I broke you' with which he opened my legs and peered between my thighs. I cracked up laughing and replied with 'Well maybe I finally lost my virginity' to which his response was laughter and the comment that I had lost my virginity to a purple dildo.

After continuing with a bit more fun, Mr Good-Company using one of my vibes on his balls while I went down on him, we put our clothes back on and looked through the photos that had been taken over the course of the evening. I found it useful having photographic evidence of how far we had gone with the fisting. Unless my hand is right down there on his I can't tell how much I have taken, knowing only from the pain that it must be quite some amount. I was quite pleased with how several of the photo's turned out and I once again put them up on the fetish chat site.

When I returned home I came to the conclusion that Mr Good-Company and I had differing opinions on what is considered to be 'a little' blood. Though there was more than I had expected from his description, it certainly wasn't enough to cause me any concern. It continued bleed for about for about 45 minutes and it gradually came to a complete stop over the next 24 hours. After doing a bit of online research I came to the conclusion that the bleeding had probably resulted from a small, internal scratch that must have been caused during the fisting. As it remains a reasonable explanation, I have absolutely no concerns regarding it.

This time I have not attempted to masturbate at all so soon afterwards. The fact that I feel more bruised this time combined with the bleeding tends to suggest that it may be a good idea to give my body some healing time. The only annoying thing about this healing time is that I would really quite like to take my new toys for a drive myself, but I suppose in the long run, being fully healed will make it a much more pleasurable experience.

I'm very much looking forward to the next fisting attempt. Despite the bleeding and despite the fact that I still screamed a bit at the end, feeling those little fluttery finger movements has made me see just a little bit of the potential fun to be had from this. I'm a determined lass, I want to see just what can be achieved. As they say, third time's a charm.

My two new toys came with the added bonus of pretty packaging.

Kinky Origins

I have had absolutely no trouble coming to terms with my interest in kink and I must admit that I'm a little bit puzzled by this. Why have I not been concerned about my interest in bondage and masochism? Why do I have these interests to begin with. Today I had a session with The Couch and these questions were certainly something that popped up over the course of the hour.

In our last session the couch I had told the couch about my interest in bondage. I have had this interest since my early teenage years. For some reason the idea of being tied and bound with rope just appealed to me. I always hoped that I would one day have the chance to try it. 

Now after our last session The Couch started to wonder what may have influenced this interest. She acknowledges that a large part of how sexual interests is really unknown, but that something may grown from some past event. Today she told me that perhaps the reason I enjoyed this bondage was because throughout my life I had been conditioned to associate things that are bound or locked away, with pleasure.

The specific event she is mentioning occurred during most of my teenage years and is one again associated with food, a substance that many of enjoy and take pleasure in. As I was growing up I showed a tendency to gain weight and since I really love food this was no surprise. My parents solution to this was to put a padlock on the door to the pantry. I was literally locked away from food, from this substance I took joy in.

I of course found ways around this. There was a latch that kept the pantry door shut and it had the loop that the padlock would be threaded through. When no one else was around I would unscrew this latch, removing it and the still locked padlock. I would take what I thought I could, trying to make it look as though nothing was missing. I was always caught eventually, but it did take some time for my mother to figure out how I was doing it. She then super-glued the latch to the door so that it couldn't be removed. My solution was to find the key, which I did. At various other times food was locked in a suitcase with a combination lock. The answer to this was to once again to wait until the house was empty and then to sit next to the suitcase and try every possible combination from 0000-9999. Thankfully I found the combination before I reached 0600.

I suppose to some extent this may explain why I find pleasure in bondage. The learned behaviour that what is bound is pleasurable. I'm not going to try and kid myself that this is the reason I enjoy being tied up. It may be the reason, it may be part of the reason or it may not have anything to do with it at all. But it is one idea.

The other thing we touched on today was masochism. We went into much less detail with this, but the one conclusion that we came to is that everybody has the potential to enjoy pain. Everybody's bodies produce endorphins to combat pain, it's just that maybe some people are more able to embrace it.

We a made a bit of loose connection between my masochistic tendencies and my self harm. Yes, these things are both extremely different scenario's, the one thing they have in common being the release of endorphins, causing me to enjoy the experience.

As I mentioned earlier I have found both of these kinks very easy to accept. The Couch suggests that the reason for this is because I had no real sexual education so to speak. Sex education and what was 'normal' in both relationships and the bedroom is something my parents never really touched on. So everything I've come to know about sex has been learnt from books and the internet. As with 'normal' reading I tended to return to the genres that appealed to me, if that material just happened to be kinky, than who was I to judge myself? I had always been taught to read what I enjoyed. Since this was what I enjoyed, then what was the problem? In my mind there was none.

I continue to have no problem accepting these thing today, both in myself and others. I somehow learnt to accept people and myself for their differences. If my learning to accept myself and my interests means that I'm a little kooky, then I can live with that.  If I were to constantly worry about people judging me for those things, then it's possible that I could never be happy. I can live with me, it's up to everyone else if they can too.

Who am I?

My name is Jessica Louise Carlson (not my real name obviously, but for the purposes of this let's just pretend that it is). I am 5ft 11inches tall, I have long-ish blonde hair and blue eyes. I weigh approximately 116kgs and have size 12 feet.

Why am I telling you this? A reader sent me a note saying that though all the sexual stuff I write about is entertaining and gives people an idea of who I am in that aspect of things, nothing I had wrote had given a view of myself in my entirety. So while the above description certainly tells people what I look like, it stills leaves me pondering that age old question of 'Who am I?'

The first thing that comes to mind when I think of myself is the word 'insecure'. I know that this certainly seems like a bad thing, but in reality everybody has something that they're insecure about. I have two main insecurities; my looks and my sanity. Since loosing over 40kgs, I am still adapting to what I look like now. I still find it hard to believe that people who might be looking at me in the street and commenting on my size, now may in fact be looking for a more positive reason.

My sanity is something else all together. I have a temper and am terrified of losing it. I know that I over react about things, but then I wonder was there actually anything there to react too? Did I create all the drama in my own head? There are events from my teen years that I just don't recall happening, yet there are multiple witnesses. Then I wonder 'But perhaps they're just saying that to mess with me?' This leads to a rather large dose of paranoia that perhaps people are messing with me, making me very distrustful of people in general.

On a more positive note, who am I? I am the girl who like roses and sunflowers. I grow each of these in my small little garden. I like the old-fashioned roses, the ones who's petals are just falling open, releasing their deliciously heady scent. As far as I'm concerned those small, perfect store bought roses are just copies. To perfect looking to be truly real. I'm proud of my sunflowers, they grow to over 7ft tall. I love it when my land-ladies children are wandering around the place, standing back in awe when first seeing these magnificent flowers. Both roses and sunflowers are happy flowers. When I see a sunflower, or walk into a room and catch a whiff of that musky rose smell, I just can't help but smile.

I am a nerd. I love to read absolutely anything. From thrillers and crime, to fantasy and adventure. The only genre I'm not really a fan of is romance. I don't read as much now as I used to, the side-effects of my anxiety disorder making it quite hard for me at times. There was a day when I could easily devours a 300 page novel in the space of a couple of hours. I'm working my way back up to that. Baby steps people. I also consider myself to be a 'Whovian'. I love Doctor Who and it's spin-off series Torchwood. I am the person who has the box-sets on pre-order so that I can eagerly watch them over and over again.

I love puzzles. Not suduko though, I have never been able to make it to the end of things. I tend to tear them up into tiny little pieces before I'm even half way through. I enjoy jigsaw puzzles and board games. The only jigsaw that has beaten me to date is one that I recieved for my 16th birthday. It is a 'Simpsons' photo-mosaic. That means that the entire puzzle picture is made up of tiny little pictures. I'll complete it one day. But until then it's shut in the cupboard of 'things that drive me crazy'.

I work in a party supply shop. I only started this job a couple of months ago but I absolutely love it. I work with the nicest bunch of people you will ever meet. I'll use today as an example. My car is in need of a few repairs so I am currently relying on the local bus service, but the last bus leaves for town 20 minutes before I finish work. Since I'm unable to leave early to catch the bus, my lovely boss, who finishes work several hours before I do, has offered to give me a lift back into town.

It's also an absolutely hilarious place to work. The place is basically a balloon shop that also sells catering supplies and party supplies such as pinatas and dress ups. The other day I was introduced to a new game played by some of the staff, 'brain ball'. This game involves a giant balloon (about 1m round) that has begun to deflate with age, several staff members and the counter. One staff member stands on either side of the counter and the aim is to head-but it to the other side of the counter, hitting the ball with your head no more than twice and if the balloon touched the floor or roof then it's a point to the other person. This game is fantastic fun, for both spectators and the lucky participants.

So who am I? To be honest even I don't really know that. I can't really tell you more than I already have. Who I am is constantly fluctuating and evolving, changing to suit what I need to be for whatever particular stage of life that I'm in. So who am I you ask? I am an insecure, flower-loving, brain-ball playing nerd. I can certainly live with that.

Warning: Potential Mind Dump

I'm feeling a little bit down ion the dumps today, so I think I'll just warn you all that this is probably be going to be a little bit of a 'mind-dump' post.

Why am I down in the dumps you ask? The answer is quite simple. Life. It just feels as if nothing is going my way of late. My car is misbehaving in what is sure to be an expensive way. My weight loss efforts seem to have hit a bit of a speed hump lately, though the amount of McDonalds that I've eaten lately really wouldn't have helped things. McDonalds probably isn't helping my state of mind either, all those processed bits and pieces are probably playing with my 'happy chemicals'.

I'm also not receiving as much attention from Mr Good-Company as I was in the beginning. We used to meet up about once a week and of late it's more likely to be about once a month. While of course I am aware that Mr Good-Company does have his own life, I will admit that I do miss the frequency of our 'play dates'.

I'm also finding that I'm missing Anita a little bit more than I expected. When we first left school we lived together for nearly 12 months before she left for Uni. She recently came to stay with me again, taking up residence in my spare bedroom for a grand total of six weeks whilst she was on placement at the local hospital. I will admit that when we first lived together, within six months we were each planning the others funeral, so frustrated we were with each others living habits. I never thought I would want to share a place with her again. How wrong was I!

Anita was actually pretty good company. I know she's my best friend, but it's a bit different living with someone than it is just going shopping and out for coffee together. We talk about mundane stuff and have the same conversations we've had a million times before. It's just comfortable.

Last night I was just sitting on the couch doing what I usually do and talking to random people online, when I received a text message asking 'How do manage to live alone? I've been here by myself since Friday (2 days) and I think I'm going crazy.' This just cracked me up, as when she was staying with me she took great delight in the fact that I'd become slightly more 'kooky' since living alone. My reply was 'I just talk to the frozen veg. As long as they don't start talking back, then you're still sane'.

We continued on that track for some time before the conversation trailed off. Then just as was going to bed, I received a new message that really confirmed that Anita and I may have already spent too much time together. It said 'Is it bedtime yet?' which of course it was. Maybe it's a good thing we don't live together. We'd probably end up speaking the same thing at the same time. We can already look at the other and know what sarcastic or silly comment the other is going to make.

We went too the zoo not to long ago, as we entered the elephant section we walked past these two elephant statues, each about a metre high. Anita just looked at me. I cracked up laughing and just said 'No'. Anita also started to laugh. Just to confirm that I'd been on the right track I asked 'You were going to suggest pretending to ride one of those things weren't you?' I was right of course. I usually am when it comes to Anita.

The worst thing about our friendship is that she lives so far away, with that distance sure to increase when she begins her intern ship next year. At the moment it's a distance of four hours between us and one hour if she' staying at her parents. But due to the fact that hospitals interstate pay more than our charming ones, she will be looking at trying to work at one of those instead, taking her even further away from me. But despite that, I do of course wish her well.

Well I'm still feeling a bit sad, I just sort of wish that thing would go my way a little bit more often then they do. But I suppose this is just another one of those 'well that's life' moments which everyone receives a dose of sometimes. I'm just hoping that my dose is nearly up.

A Burning Ring of Fire

The first time I saw the process of fisting was in a video link sent to me by Mr Good-Company. This video involved one woman being fisted by both hands of another woman. I remember wincing as I watched, it just seemed somewhat barbaric and violent. It reminded me of witnessing the artificial insemination of cows as a child. Fisting is something that I knew I would never even consider trying. Until my curiosity got the better of me that is.

The idea of wanting to try this just slowly began to grow on me, I'm not sure how or why. I already knew that I was capable of taking quite a few fingers at once, so perhaps I would be able to accommodate a fist. Just by chance I ended up doing some reading on the subject and the idea began to appeal to me even more, though of course it came with some concerns as well. Pain was an obvious factor, with some women having described trying to take the last part of the hand as like a 'ring of fire'. Another concern of mine was stretching, though everything I read indicated that as long as fisting wasn't an overly regular practice, the muscles would be able to contract back too their original state.

I was having a Facebook chat with Mr Good-Company at the time I was doing this reading and I mentioned it was something I might like to try. He admitted it was something he had never attempted before but that he would certainly like to give it a try. I sent him a link to the page I had been reading and after a few minutes he asked when I would like to try this. Since the idea, though exciting, was still making me quite nervous I said that we should just see how things pan out next time we meet up. He then suggested I come and pay him a visit right then. So I did.

I hadn't met up with Mr Good-Company for quite a while at this point, so lets just say I was very easily excited. After kissing on the couch for a little while, Mr Good-Company's hand found it's way into my jeans. He started to play with my clit, causing my breath to come in small gasps as I found myself in a rather pleasurable state. He then pulled my jeans and knickers of and began to finger me as well. Just as it was all becoming a little bit much, he stood up and we moved into the bedroom, both of us removing any remaining clothes as soon as we were there before falling onto the bed.

Now as I mentioned earlier I was quite nervous about fisting. I knew that's what I was there for but I didn't know when and how Mr Good-Company was going to introduce it into our play. Things went as normal for a while, kissing, touching, fingering and then the dildo with large amounts of lube. I then noticed that the dildo was hurting a little bit more than usual, but thought nothing of it, figuring that Mr Good-Company was just being a little bit rougher than normal.

Mr Good-Company was now sitting between my legs at this point. I began to notice that the dildo was becoming increasingly painful, so painful that I thought I was going to scream. I reached down between my legs and it was then that I realised that the dildo had left events some time ago and that it was Mr Good-Company trying to slide his hand inside of me that was causing my pain.

When I found that I couldn't speak I sort of realised that I was actually screaming, though I couldn't hear it myself. This scared me for a moment. It felt like a very large loss of control for me and I quickly had to find a way to let Mr Good-Company know when I needed a break. I did the most obvious thing, leaving my left hand on the hand of his that was slowly working it's way inside of me and placing my right hand on his other arm, I did all that I could really do and just squeezed like all hell when I needed a moments rest. He seemed to get the message.

I don't know how long we continued with this for. Him slowly working his hand inside of me and my digging my nails into him. When I would relax my grip he would continue, slowly moving his hand further and further. After a while he stopped completely saying that I'd probably had enough for now. I think he was right too. 

We went back to our more normal activities and we both came at the same time as he worked my dildo inside of me and I stroked his penis.

When Mr Good-Company came back from cleaning himself off we began round two. He asked me if I wanted to try again. I did of course, but I still needed a little bit of recovery time so I replied with 'not quite yet'. After he had played with me some more Mr Good-Company tried fisting me again, repeating the same process as earlier. We continued with this until, as before, I just couldn't take it any more.

Mr Good-Company then began to rub his cock on top of my clit. After the painful events of earlier this action felt like such a contrast. The soft skin of his cock compared to the hardness of his hand mea I quickly found myself coming. I then went down on Mr Good-Company, rubbing his balls and sucking his cock until he came in my mouth. I like to think I've become better at this over time. I remember when I first began going down on him that I had a lot of trouble taking all of him into my mouth without my gag reflex kicking in, now it's much easier and the gag reflex is of very little concern. I still can't quite believe how much I enjoy sucking him off.

The whole fisting experience was very intense for me. I wasn't able to take his entire fist in the end but I was able to take his hand in until just past the knuckles, the thick part at the base of the thumb seeming to cause the problem. I can honestly say that I cannot recall ever having been in so much pain in my life. I didn't come from it as such, the pain factor by far out weighing the pleasure. That's not to say that I didn't enjoy the experience. I really did. But I certainly found it to be extremely intense.

It wasn't until the next day that I found how much of an intense experience it actually was. I was extremely sore which was to be expected, yet my brain also seemed to behaving trouble digesting the events that had occurred the previous evening. I think a large part of the problem was that at that stage there were a few things I was quite unsure of and I had to ask Mr Good-Company to fill in a few of the gaps for me. 

It turns out that the reason I thought I was screaming was because I was actually screaming and quite loudly too apparently. I honestly can't recall hearing any noise at the time, but obviously the reason I was unable to speak was because of those screams. I was also unable to recall how much of Mr Good-Company's hand I had been able to take or when he had stopped using the dildo and switched to fingers and then hand. Apparently what he had done was at first insert several fingers with the dildo and then make the switch, removing the dildo and continuing with his hand.

I will admit that I still feel a little bit baffled by events. I pride myself on having an excellent memory and the fact that I sort of spaced out during the fisting attempt does make me realise how intense the situation must have been for me.

The pain also stayed with me a lot longer than expected. Previously when I have felt a bit bruised in that region everything has returned to normal fairly quickly and I've even resumed playing with myself and my dildo nearly straight away. I did not attempt that this time, but today, two days after the event I had a go. I tried first with the dildo (and lube) but found myself to be in quite a lot of pain, my insides were apparently quite bruised. I switched to using my vibrator (though switched off) because it's a great deal narrower than the dildo. I had more success with this and was eventually able to try the dildo again. It still hurt a great deal but certainly not as much as it had when I'd first tried to use it.

Despite the pain and my muddled up head, fisting is definitely something I am keen to try again. Many personal accounts I've read say that once you move past that 'ring of fire' and take the whole hand it is an extremely pleasurable experience. I want to find out just how good that experience is. Though, that said, it's entirely possible that fisting may just be something I am unable to do. If that's the case, then so be it. At least I'll know if I'm capable of it, satisfying a large amount of my curiosity in regards to the subject.

Being a Grumpy Bugger

Well tonight I have turned into a little bit of a grumpy bugger. I'm mainly in a shit because there is no-one online for me to talk to, people aren't replying to my text messages and the people who I'm talking to on the chat site are just being way to full on for my liking.

These 'full-on' people really quite annoy me. They're not the ones who are asking me the colour of my knickers (white), they're the ones who want to instantly be best friends or even more. They instantly want to know my real name, phone number and to be added to my Facebook.

I'm not sure if this is actually the way the whole online dating thing is supposed to work, but I'm just not that comfortable giving out details like that to someone who is a complete stranger. Realistically, some of these people would be decent people but some of them obviously wouldn't be. It's the ones who aren't decent that concern me. Why should I even consider giving out so many details. Quite simply, I don't even consider it. My theory, whether it's accurate or not, is that the decent people will wait until I'm comfortable enough to give them my details.

My other bitch topic for this evening is a guy I'm going to call Surfie-Bloke. He is in love with his own dick. I mean more than most guys seem to be. Surfie-Bloke just goes on and on about the size (11 inches) and asking questions such as 'Could you take it?', Would you be able to fit the whole thing down your throat?', 'Is it the biggest you've ever seen?'. This becomes very annoying, very quickly.

He then follows on by almost jumping into the category of 'full-on', by asking if I would be his girlfriend. I would respond to something he's said with something like 'Well by the sounds of it you just want someone for a casual fuck'. With which he respond s with something along the lines of 'No, I want a girlfriend'. It then becomes rather funny when I then suggest that perhaps bragging about his penis size isn't the best way to go about it and he seems to then become a little bit offended and stop talking altogether. At least for the rest of the evening that is.

Well I think that's all I have to say for tonight. I'm still a grumpy bugger but I have a full day of work to look forward to tomorrow. No, that wasn't sarcasm. I do actually like my job. I'm also approaching the last days of having a flatmate. My best mate Anita has been staying with me for the last six weeks. It's been a hilarious time of burnt tea-towels, finishing each others sentences and having her do my dishes for me (that means they don't have chance to grow mould like they do when I'm in charge). She's taking me out for dinner tomorrow night so I'm sure we'll have a hilarious time with lots of weird looks from our neighbouring diners as is the usual occurrence when we go out anywhere. Well now I'm slightly cheerier. Smile!

Pleasure and Pain

Whilst bored recently, I decided to do one of those entirely unreliable but enjoyable online quizzes that supposedly tell you everything about yourself except for the hair colour of your first born child. For some reason I had been expecting to score highly in the area of submissive, yet the results (below) came back telling me that I am some what of a masochist.

My Quiz Results

This 'discovery' didn't really surprise me that much. I have always enjoyed a little bit of pain. I don't derive sexual pleasure from it, but things like having needle, and I suppose even my self-harming, have fallen into the classification of 'fun'. Another reason I had suspected my masochistic tendencies was how much I enjoyed the biting from Mr Good-Company and the bruises resulting from this action. 

Last night I again paid Mr Good-Company a visit. I had been horny as hell for the past several days and was becoming a little bored with playing with myself. To say I was rather glad Mr Good-Company responded to my text messages would be an understatement.

After nerding it up a bit over Doctor Who we moved into the bedroom, myself grabbing my toys out of my bag on the way.

After kissing me and teasing my nipples through my bra, Mr Good-Company stopped, pulled my jeans and knickers off and proceeded to do a very thorough job of going down on me. It felt so good, the feel of his tongue moving against my pussy and the sight of his head between my legs had me so turned on, it was fantastic.

When he had finished between my legs Mr Good-Company proceeded to wipe my wetness from his face before removing his clothes and the rest of mine. I have a vague memory of him biting my neck during this process, I've a bruise there anyway that would have been caused only one way.

After a bit more making out, Mr Good-Company placed himself on top of me with his cock in my mouth whilst he again went down on me. At some point he stopped this and began to rub my dildo against me before sliding it inside of me. After he had done this Mr Good-Company added my vibrator to the mix, rubbing it against my clit. Meanwhile, I was sucking his cock, though due to the fact I was a bit distracted, I have my doubts about how decent a job I was doing.

I was so close to coming this entire time it was starting to drive me absolutely crazy. I then felt the vibe moving and a sharp sort of pain as Mr Good-Company slowly moved the vibe alongside the dildo inside of me. I have tried before on my own to have both my vibrator and dildo inside of me, but due to the pain it was not something I had ever been able to fully achieve.

I'm not going to lie, for a moment there it was quite painful, but at the same time I enjoyed it a lot and came soon after the vibe was inserted. It actually took me a few moments to regain my breath afterwards and  it's actually not to often that happens.

Once my brain had returned itself to working order I was able to focus on Mr Good-Company a bit more. He began by rubbing his cock between my breasts before asking me to go down on him again. I'm still a little bit surprised by how much I enjoy doing this, but I suppose to quote the old cliché 'life is full of surprises'.

After doing this for a while Mr Good-Company suggested that we do what I had mentioned in a text I had sent earlier that day, 'I want you to rub your cock against my clit and make me come...'. I straddled Mr Good-Company and began to rub my clit against his cock. I love how this feels. Unlike masturbation It is a sensation that I can't achieve by myself and it just feels so damn good.

After having come, I again proceeded to go down on Mr Good-Company, sucking and licking his cock until he came in my mouth. I, of course swallowed.

Even now, over 24 hours later, my poor pussy still feels a little bit sore. If someone had told me 6 months ago I would be enjoying the sensation of someone having caused me even a small amount of physical pain I would have told them something along the line of 'Hell no'. But I did enjoy it. I'm not even ashamed of that fact. If this is who I am and being hurt (to some extent) is something that I enjoy, then it's something that I can live with quite easily. I must also admit, that even though I am still feeling a little bit bruised, I am quite keen to give 'the two toys in one' deal ago by myself later on.

My pink and purple friends. Both are about 15cm long. The purple one is nearly 5cm wide and the pink vibe is 2.5cm wide.