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Showing posts from 2016

Private Parts

As anyone who writes about sex, or pens erotic stories will know, euphemisms abound . The terms we use to describe sexual acts and the erogenous zones of our bodies are too numerous to list. If you ever get stuck, I do recommend this particular post . For the purposes of this post, I am concentrating on the names that we give to those intimate bits of our own and, where relevant, partner’s bodies. Personally, when it comes to the words I use for the various naughty bits of the human anatomy, I find a lot depends on the context. So, starting with my own particulars…Generally, my penis is my penis. I will sometimes, in the context of a photo, refer to it as my cock or dick, but by and large (cue childish sniggering), it’s my penis. What my partner calls it, is entirely up to them. If they wish to feel my cock, throbbing manhood, or other such ego-stroking term inside them, then I’m happy to oblige. I’ve commented on any number of occasions that I find the male reproductive organ

One Size Fits All

I am a man, I have a penis. I have written about my penis here on this very blog . It’s a strange thing, in my opinion. It’s not particularly remarkable in any way. It’s neither especially long nor is it especially short. It is, as far as I am concerned, not particularly aesthetically pleasing, but penises, in my view generally aren’t. If anything, the penis epitomises function over style. The general opinion that I’ve encountered is, so long as it does what it does well, what it looks like is pretty much immaterial. After all, when it is engaged in its more pleasurable function, it generally isn’t visible to the eye anyway. So how do I feel about my penis? Well, as I said, I don’t think it’s much of a looker, but it does what it’s supposed to. No one has ever complained about it (to my face anyway) and it has received its share of compliments. Am I self-conscious about it? No, not particularly. No woman, on seeing it for the first time has ever fainted in shock/horror


Unseen by Kilted Wookie She couldn’t see. The blindfold over her eyes shrouded her in darkness; sharpening her other senses, heightening her arousal. Three pairs of hands explored her body. Two pairs, she was certain, were male; one of which she recognised as His by the sure way they touched her. The third pair were softer, smaller, perhaps belonging to another woman. She couldn’t tell. The thought excited her and filled her with a nervous trepidation. She squirmed as His hand ran up the inside of her thigh. The softer, smaller hand ran up the other. The hands of the other man played with her breasts, teasing her nipples. Her cunt grew wetter with every passing second as the hands explored her. The intensity of her arousal grew with every heartbeat. Without warning, the hands were gone. She waited in the darkness. Anticipation of what was to come next, grew stronger. She moaned as an unfamiliar tongue flicked between her lower lips and over her clit; licking her wit


Sounds by Kilted Wookie The book clattered to the floor. A soft moan escaped from between her lips. The sound of her fingers slipping into the wet, tight confines of her cunt as she urgently fingered herself was all she could hear. The pressure built inside her, slowly but steadily; drawing her ever closer to the point of release. She squeezed her nipple tighter as she thumbed her clit. The soft, fresh, clean linen sheets rustled below her as she tossed and writhed in response to the sensations she was giving herself. She became aware of her own breathing; increasingly shallow and rapid as her arousal grew. Her cunt tightened around her fingers, gripping them, squeezing them. Lights flashed behind her tightly shut eyelids. Her hair crackled against the pillow case as her head tossed from side to side. Her heartbeat raced as her climax approached; she could hear it, sensing the blood pounding through her. And then, a moment’s silence as she teeter

A Private Screening

A Private Screening by Kilted Wookie Arriving home from work, she showers, and gets ready; laying out a selection of toys on the bed as the laptop boots up, Skype loads, and she waits for him to arrive. He did so promptly. He cannot abide tardiness, and so she expected none from him either. Checking that he can see her properly, she asks him what he would like her to do. He instructs her to strip off. She opens her dressing-gown and lets it fall to the ground before standing there, naked, in front of the camera, exposed for him. Following his instruction, she climbs on to the bed. She begins by playing with her breasts, rubbing lotion into them. Her nipples stiffen and a lovely warm feeling begins to spread through her. Spreading her legs, she hopes that he can see how just the simple act of teasing herself is making her wet for him. Reaching down to her cunt, she spreads her labia before pushing her fingers inside. “Suck them clean!” he commands. She obeys,


Unintended by Kilted Wookie Just friends. That’s what they’d agreed. That what they had always said. Just friends. Nothing more. And yet here she was, curled up naked beside him, her body still aching pleasantly from the intense orgasms he had driven her to, the essence of his maleness still warm in her cunt. It hadn’t been supposed to happen. A chat, a few drinks, nothing more. Yet somehow, she had let herself be seduced by him. No; they had seduced each other. That first kiss, so electric, so real. That first kiss that made a lie of their promises. The anticipation as he undressed her. The vulnerability as she stood exposed to his gaze. The trembling excitement in her hands as she removed his clothes and explored his body; first with her fingers, then with her lips. His kisses excited her. The strong, confident touch of his hands as he lifted her to the bed had felt like a dream. The heat of his breath as he knelt between her thighs. The touch of his tongue.

Facial Hair

Most of you will no doubt be aware that I am “moderately” hirsute, to say the least. I have been shaving (my face) regularly since I was 12/13. My beard, such as it is, grows in pretty quickly and quite thick. I have, possibly surprisingly, only ever grown a beard twice in my life, both times for charitable causes, and both times I couldn’t wait to get rid of the bloody thing. Some men can grow a beard with relative impunity, others can’t. I fall most definitely in the “can’t” category. For one thing, it doesn’t suit me.  I really don’t have the right sort of chin (or, since I’m being honest, chins) for it. There is also the fact that, despite being dark haired, it used to grow in with ginger streaks in it.  The ginger bits have now been replaced with silver, so I’ve gone from looking like a raccoon to a badger. But then there is the itch. It starts after about 4/5 days and no matter how long I endure it, it just doesn’t diminish, and so, out comes the razor. Of course, I

Erotic Haiku

Erotic Haiku by Kilted Wookie A warm wet circle Surrounding me with softness Holding me tightly ~~~~ Time has no meaning When I am lost inside you Two bodies as one ~~~~ The sweet taste of you Lingers long after we part Joyous memories ~~~~ Lips surrounding me You encircle my hardness Taking me deeper ~~~~ Your body, my goal Your orgasm, my pleasure Your moans, my reward ~~~~ Passionate fusion A sexual collision Orgasmic release ~~~~ Warm, wet, inviting Your softness slowly yielding As I push inside ~~~~ My tongue exploring Every fold of your cunt Tasting your sweetness ~~~~ The joyous union Of cunt, cock, body and mind The sweet synergy ~~~~ Your soft, gentle moans The subtle change of flavour Announce your climax ~~~~ The crack of leather Red marks left on soft white skin The kiss of my belt ~~~~ You beg me to cum To release deep inside you To share my moment ~~~~ The rope bites your skin As you struggle to resist The

Baring All

It will probably be no surprise to anyone reading this that I am quite comfortable being in a state of undress. I have written before on the subject of self-image , and I am, I guess, quite fortunate. I have always been pretty comfortable in my own skin and always been fairly relaxed about letting it all hang out. That’s not to say that I like all bits of my body equally. There are bits that I am not particularly fond of; my lopsided ears for example and my double chins.  The latter I can partially excuse on my hypothyroidism, the ears, however, I was born with.  There are other bits that I think are actually pretty good. Thirty odd years of running up and down rugby pitches has meant my legs (especially thighs and calves) are in pretty good shape, and the upper body strength required for the game means that my shoulders and chest are pretty well developed (although this causes issues finding shirts/jumpers/etc. that fit me in the sleeve). There are other bits that I’m fairly


It’s one of those perennial “truth or dare” type questions that comes around now and again. Have you ever cheated? If so, what were the reasons behind it, and how did you feel afterwards? The honest answer to this question is: “ Yes “. I’m not proud of the fact, despite the fact that some may say I had justification for doing so; but yes, I have cheated. The circumstances, and I am not attempting to justify my actions, were difficult. My (then) wife had had at least three affairs that I was aware of. While not exactly turning a blind eye to such things, for the sake of my marriage and the fact that, despite this, I did love her, I was prepared to live with it. We were together for 16 years. It was only in the last few, painful, months that I finally strayed myself. Some might think it was a form of retaliation; it wasn’t. I didn’t actually go looking for someone else to have sex with, it just happened. The fact that the woman involved was, herself, married, only adde

Her Taste

Her Taste by Kilted Wookie He looked down on her as she lay, naked, on the bed before him; her legs open, inviting. He feasted on her with his eyes; drinking in her dark hair and pale skin. Her emerald eyes flashed as she smiled up at him. She flinched as he ran his fingertips up and down the inside of her thighs; dragging his nails lightly over her skin. Again and again, the fingers approached, and each time she wondered if this time would be the time that he touched her soft, lower lips. Each time, to her increasing torment, just when it felt that he had to touch her, his fingers drew away. Time passed, and his lips replaced his fingers. The sensations changed, but the torment remained. Approach, retreat… Approach, retreat… Each time, the warmth of his breath, the closeness of his mouth to her most sensitive of skin caused her to shiver. He could see the tension in her build. He could feel it in the tightness of her thighs as he kissed them. Her lips glistened with he

The Tube

The Tube by Kilted Wookie The carriage was packed with the rush hour hordes. Bodies crammed together uncomfortably; commuters sharing their discomfort with a stoic lack of eye contact. Once again, the train shuddered to a halt. She staggered against him; mumbled an apology. He smiled down at her in unspoken reassurance that no apology was required. Their eyes met, breaking the unwritten contract between those that travelled below London’s streets. She returned the smile, a twinkle of mischief in her emerald green eyes acknowledging the unintended intimacy. A garbled announcement; something about a breakdown on the line ahead, an apology for the inconvenience. They smiled at each other again; a shrug of resignation, a symbol of their silent companionship. Minutes ticked by; long, drawn out, minutes that slowly sapped the resolve of the crowded commuters. He heard her sigh and felt her lean slightly against him. She looked up, fatigue clear in her face. Smiling, h

Private Dancer

Private Dancer by Kilted Wookie The lights are dimmed, the music plays, he sits on a seat in the middle of the floor. Sometimes his hands are tied behind the back of the seat, sometimes not, it depends on how much she wants to tease him. She steps into the room wearing one of her sluttiest outfits; the kind of outfit that leaves little to the imagination. His eyes are immediately glued to her. She walks up and runs her hand over his head, across his shoulders. She walks around and runs her fingers down his chest; unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. Her hand dips lower; her fingers trace the outline of the growing bulge in the front of his jeans. The first song is spent simply teasing him; rubbing herself against him, sitting on his lap and ruffling his hair as she pulls his face towards her cleavage. She squirms on his lap, feeling his cock stiffen. As the second song starts, she undoes his belt, opens up his jeans. Now it’s the turn of her mouth. She ge