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Showing posts from November, 2019


I was having a bit of a trawl through my “Search Terms” looking to see what random requests had driven people to my blog and the one that kind of leapt out was “ Hooked On Cunnilingus “. Now, given the the #Food4Thought prompt this week was all about Vice and Indulgence, it seemed somewhat serendipitous . I’ve waxed lyrical on many occasions about my love of this particular activity. During those periods where I am without a regular sex partner, it is probably the thing I miss more than anything else. From the very first time I tasted it, I have been hooked on the flavour of a woman’s most essential essence. Cunnilingus is one of those activities that plays either directly, or in directly on all of the senses . There is, quite obviously the taste and the way it changes, getting richer as her arousal builds, peaking as she reaches climax. So combined with taste is the scent of her; so impossible to avoid breathing in as my tongue explores every fold of her cunt. Then there a

Bangs & Whimpers

I’ve mentioned before that I don’t always achieve orgasm during sex with a partner. The reasons for this are depression and the medication I take to manage it. I can be fully aroused, I can be fully lost in that “moment” where I’m teetering on the brink. I can feel myself approaching that point of no return and then it’s gone. It can be frustrating, but I’ve learned to live with it. It is generally the exception rather than the rule and, let’s be honest, if sex is the cake, orgasm is the icing on it and I’d much rather have cake without icing than no cake at all. Sex is to be enjoyed, reveled in with every sticky, slippery, squelching, slapping lick, thrust, gasp and groan that accompanies two bodies pleasuring each other. Every touch, every kiss, every caress, every lick, every suck, every thrust, hell, every moment is to be savoured and orgasm is simply one (or several) of the moments that combine to make the whole sexual experience. So, have I ever faked an orgasm? Well,


Depression has been an almost constant companion for  over thirty years. For the first dozen (or possibly more) of those, it went undiagnosed; I was simply aware that my mood, which while never especially light, would descend into prolonged dark spells where I would withdraw from the world and become even more reclusive and introverted than I already was. In my teens, it was easy to dismiss this as part of adolescence; responding to hormonal changes, dealing with the stress of exams and getting the grades I needed for university. Once at university, again it was easy to dismiss as just part of the stresses of academic life, combined with a social awkwardness and general shyness I have when I am around people I don’t know. After university, it could easily be ascribed to work related stress, having responsibilities such as a mortgage, and then a family. It took being diagnosed with hypothyroidism when I was 28 for the depression to finally be recognised for what it was and for