Don’t you love it when strange things start appearing on your television around Halloween?
There’s a big disparity in the way we talk about pleasing people with penises versus pleasing people with vaginas / vulvas; one only need to Google “mystery of female orgasm” to see it (oh my god ALL THOSE ARTICLES). Touching a vulva is seen as something that needs specific technique / dexterity / finesse – there are classes and books dedicated to it. Handling a peen, on the other hand, is discussed flippantly if at all – due in part to the social narrative that men see hand jobs as a waste of time because they also have hands (as do I… but that doesn’t stop me from wanting other people to touch me with theirs!).
Because I talk about sex all the time to most of the people I come into contact with, I’ve met many a man who preferred hand jobs to blow jobs because the muscles in hands are so strong, because they don’t like the scraping of teeth, because the angle of manual sex is better for them, or for various other reasons. I prefer giving hand jobs to giving blow jobs because I have chronic jaw pain; even when I do engage in oral sex, there’s a lot of manual stimulation thrown in.
And just as every woman likes to be touched in a way that’s unique to her, every man does, too. When I’m with a new partner, I always ask: How do you like to be touched? When you masturbate, what do you do? Can you show me? I like to put my hands over theirs so that I can practice the kinds of movements and rhythms that make them feel good. I like to experiment, too; gently, at first, in case there’s something my partner doesn’t like. Hand jobs are my favorite way to learn a new penis. I prefer to think of them as a type of massage and really like integrating them into massaging other parts of my partners’ bodies. I use both hands, I use oil, I ask if I can touch areas they may or may not be comfortable with: the base of the penis that lies behind the scrotum, their testicles, their anuses.
Hand jobs can be an amazing way to connect with a partner; imagine coming home from a long day at work to a dimly-lit bedroom with relaxing music on and told to get undressed so your partner can give you a massage… and then having that massage focus on your dick. Hand jobs can also be hot as fuck when they’re illicit – say, under a blanket on a long-distance train, while driving, in the coat room at a party, or in a crowded bar (story forthcoming).
Hand jobs aren’t some lost relic of adolescence; they’re a big part of my sex life – especially in the context of a long-term relationship, they help me to establish connection and feel out (pardon the pun) the ways in which my partners prefer to be pleased.
“Handy Man,” by the way, is an amazing blues song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BmFtwwCOmmo
I finally got the claim processed from when my camera got stolen in Spain, which means there’s a camera coming my way; until it arrives, you’re all stuck with these low-res phone shots. Hope you don’t mind the quality of the picture, my darlings!
We’re making flirty banter as he’s driving down a highway; I watch one of his smooth hands guide the steering wheel as the other moves gracefully to the knob on his left to change gears. Looking at his large hands, I suddenly want them all over me – but seeing as how he’s driving, I opt to put my hands on him. There’s a moderate amount of traffic along the highway, including tall trucks wherein the drivers could see us from their cabs; I ignore this fact and reach my small, pale hand over to unbuckle his belt.
I’ve done this before, so he’s not surprised; rather, he leans his pelvis forward and grins at me. I unbutton his jeans, pull the zipper down carefully, and pull his stiffening cock out from his pants. He closes his eyes for a tenth of a second and sighs with barely-parted lips as I start grazing his cock with the tips of my fingers. Once it gets a bit harder, I lean under his left arm and wrap my lips around his warm flesh, taking him into my mouth and running my tongue around his head. I eagerly blow him as he struggles to concentrate; when I have to move so he can change gears, I look at him with pleading, lust-filled eyes and tell him how desperately I want him inside of me.
He turns right down the next road; we search for a place where we can pull over, but there is no place. We’re right outside of a mid-sized town, so it’s all driveways and private field entrances. We turn around and come back toward the main highway, my hand stroking his shaft. He asks what I think about just pulling over on the side of the road to make out a bit; sounds good to me, I say. But I want so much more than that. I take my panties off under my skirt and grab a condom from the backseat; I ask him what he thinks about fucking me on the car juuuust a little bit. Before anyone can pass us. Just a few thrusts, I say.
Within two minutes I’m bent over the bonnet, my red sundress up over my hips, and he’s pushing into my swollen and waiting cunt, jeans mid-thigh – I’m slippery and he eases in, taking his time to tease me even though we don’t have it. We (surprise!) don’t stop after a few thrusts; the taboo of fucking in public in broad daylight is so arousing that I tighten myself around him and beg him not to stop. He puts one of his beautiful hands next to me on the car and holds my hip with the other, just like when he was driving – only now, he’s driving himself into me. We can see cars and trucks flying by fifty meters down the road along the open highway, and I’m gasping with wanting him deeper. More. I wonder what the drivers would think if they could glance over and see us. We don’t want to push our luck, though; after a few minutes he pulls out – neither of us completely satisfied, both of us feeling a temporary relief.
I let my skirt fall and he pulls his pants up and I turn around to kiss him as fully as I can; how often do you get a partner who’s down to fuck in the middle of the day on a car near a busy highway? I smile and tell him he’s the best; he says I’m swell, and we kiss again, and the love I have for him fills me up.
*God I hope there’s a porn with this title.
Remember back in the eighties when pot was described by Nancy Reagan and the D.A.R.E. program as a “gateway drug” – the idea being that once you smoke mary jane, there’s no turning back, and you will IMMEDIATELY AND IRREVOCABLY crave harder drugs? I feel like spanking is the “gateway kink” of BDSM in that most people have tried it… and then have all gone on to have completely different / variant experiences with kink (‘cause the myth of a gateway drug is fucking ridiculous). Some folks try spanking, find that they’re not into it, and go back to vanilla(ish) sex; some folks like it and stick with it, but don’t get into other stuff; and some of us now own a host of impact toys, lengths of rope, and butt plugs.
Hand spanking was my introduction to kink; my high school boyfriend and I role played and experimented as much as possible, using the online purity test as a guideline for New Things to Try. I loved the stingy feeling of light pain that accompanied the heights of pleasure my sensitive body was experiencing – I wondered at how it intensified my joy. I feel so lucky that my first exposure to spanking was in a loving relationship in which I completely trusted my partner; it allowed me to explore other aspects of BDSM which I now fully enjoy and incorporate into my sexual life (and sometimes non-sexual play).
I very much enjoy pain, but I’m not a masochist; I’m not submissive, per se, but when the right person gives me orders, it makes me quiver. Having partners who not only ask if I want to be spanked, but how, is such a huge turn-on. Here’s what I say:
I want you to bend me over your knee and pull my knickers down so that they’re just underneath my bottom. With one hand around my waist holding me tight, I want you to start lightly and rhythmically slapping my ass – both cheeks – like you would a drum. Keep a slightly curved hand so you don’t hurt yourself!* Slowly build up speed and intensity, then give me one good, hard smack. Before I can finish letting out that sigh of pleasure, hit the other cheek hard – it will take me by surprise. Lightly graze both cheeks with your fingertips in whatever pattern you fancy. Start again – only this time with a bit more intensity. Do it again. And again. When my ass is a nice, bright red, I want you to slide a dildo into me – maybe a few times, right over my G-spot. Maybe more than a few. Maybe slide your fingers around the base of that dildo and circle them around my clit, pulsing the dildo with your other hand. Just when I think the spanking is over and I get to come, take your hands off – leave the dildo in – and tell me to count to ten. For each number, give me a good, hard, smack – each harder than the last. Caress my bottom with a light touch… then when I think it’s all over, give me one last extra-hard bonus smack as you start pulsing the dildo again. Tell me to touch myself while still over your knee… and that if I come for you, I might be lucky enough to get your dick (or fingers, or strap-on) inside of me instead of that dildo.
Maybe spanking was a gateway kink for me… a gate I feel grateful to have walked through.
*For real – I once got a hematoma from spanking someone too hard with a straight hand!
The first time was an accident. Maria had picked up the phone in her room when it rang; when she heard her roommate Edith say hello to her long-distance girlfriend, she almost clicked the button to hang up – until she heard Edith’s girlfriend ask, “So – what are you wearing?” This should be good, she thought, waiting for Edith’s inevitably quippy reply.
Instead, she heard Edith say, “You know that bra you bought me for Christmas? The red, lacy number that I never wear because it’s so impractical?” “Mmhmm,” came a knowing murmur from the other end. “That, and one end of your favorite dildo.”
Maria almost dropped the phone. In a panic, she pressed the earpiece to her ear and moved the mouthpiece down toward her neck, afraid to breathe or make a peep. She listened to Edith’s girlfriend give orders which Edith presumably followed:
“Are you wet? Good girl. Slide the dildo in and out until it’s covered in your juices. Get on your knees; push it deep into your A-spot and pulse it there. Press your legs together to hold it in place while you put your fingers in your mouth. Make circles around your clit… painfully slow circles.”
All she heard on Edith’s end were moans and whimpers of assent and pleasure – then a strained pleading to be allowed to come, followed by a tortured groan when she was denied. When she finally did come minutes later, it was epic – Maria had never heard anything like it before. Like a house on fire breaking apart, sending embers flying into a black sky, lighting it up with red smoke. Maria had never felt like that before.
When they finally said goodnight, it was Maria who felt exhausted. She hung up the phone and turned out her bedroom light; lying on her back in the dark, she slid her hands under the bottom of her nightgown and flung it aside. She squirmed as she felt slickness warm her inner thighs; when she moved her hand into her panties, she was shocked by how wet she was. She slid two fingers inside her cunt with one hand while gently rubbing her entire labia with the other, up and down, thinking about the orders that Edith obediently followed. Her hips bucked and her breath caught as her orgasm had her. She turned her head to bite her pillow, curling into a ball, afraid to make noise; she fell asleep in her underwear, which stuck to her.
It was the first thing on her mind when she woke up the next day; she knew she had to come clean. Edith had been her best friend for years; there just weren’t any secrets between them. Dreading the conversation, she rolled out of bed and slouched into the kitchen for coffee.
When she sat down at the table, she noticed how perky Edith seemed – how light on her feet. Good. “Ed – I have something to tell you.” “What’s up?” Edith asked, a spring in her step as she fluttered around the kitchen, grabbing dishes and cups and toast and creamer. “I heard you last night.” “Oh, god,” Edith said, her movements suddenly halted. “I was so loud you could hear me through the walls? I’m sooooo sorry!” “No…” Maria continued. “I heard you on the phone. I picked up and couldn’t stop listening. I know it was a huge violation of your privacy – I’m so, so sorry, Ed.” Her face flamed. She expected Edith to yell, to slam things on the table, to be furious. Instead, Edith just looked… curious.
“Huh,” she said. “Huh?” replied Maria. Again: “Huh.” Maria looked at her, completely baffled, not really knowing what to say. It turned out she didn’t have to say anything. “Did you… like what you heard?” asked Edith. Still beet red, Maria looked into her coffee cup. “Yeah,” she practically whispered. “It was… it was really hot, Ed.” The words rushed out of her mouth like air from a tire. “Huh.” “Why do you keep saying that?” asked Maria. “Well – Lora might be into that.” “What?” Maria asked, her mouth ajar. “Yeah – she might be into the idea of someone else listening in. Let me check with her.”
Maria felt her nipples stiffen under her nightgown – from arousal or anxiety she wasn’t sure, but she was sure of one thing: every cell in her body was saying “Yes.”
Image taken from Pixabay; credit: markito.
Do you think a nice driver would pick me up if I were lost on some lonesome highway?
Looks pretty empty to me… might have to stop to enjoy the scenery for a while.
Maybe it would help if I stuck my thumb out!
Fun note: A truck driver actually did turn onto this road as I was walking toward my clothes, which I’d unceremoniously flung onto the grass; I had to pick them up and press them to me as The Engineer tried to hide me!
I’m not super into giving head. I have chronic jaw pain; keeping my mouth open for a long time, let alone taking something into my mouth for a long time, can be a pretty painful experience. I do relish deep throating and giving sultry glances upward before sliding my tongue alongside the length of a hard cock, just… not for a long time. Almost never enough for the person I’m blowing to come. And I know, I know: orgasms aren’t the objective of sex (for me, anyway), oral sex feels amazing without coming, I shouldn’t have to grimace through my own pain to give someone else pleasure, etc. I know. It’s just – sometimes I really want my loved ones to blow a load in my mouth, you know?
So when The Engineer suggested that he hold off masturbating for a week leading up to our reunion, I was pumped because I could not wait to have him jizz into the back of my throat.
We hadn’t seen each other in two months; it was nearly impossible to keep our hands off each other at the Dublin airport and on our way to our first AirBnB in the middle of the countryside, but we did. When we arrived, we kept giving each other frustrated glances as the host chatted to us forever about the house and the history of the area, how we met and why we were traveling, etc. I had his dick in my mouth moments after she drove away; he was sitting on a swing in the backyard and I was on my knees in the grass, holding onto his hips with my hands while sliding my lips down and over his head and along the length of his shaft. My pleasure is deeply intertwined with my partner’s, so when I felt him grabbing the back of my head and heard him groan, it spurred me to take him deeper; I felt myself get wet as he told me not to stop, and I moaned in gratification when he came into my mouth in spurts just minutes after I’d started teasing his dick.
I was happy – but not as happy as I was when ten minutes later I was lying on my back on a little green hill with his face buried in my vulva. I had also participated in the Week(ish) Without a Wank, and I came fast and hard, squeezing his head between my thighs and pressing upward into his lapping tongue.
It was a beautiful day, and being outside naked in the fresh country air was the perfect way to start a holiday that would mark the end of long journeys for both of us. Later in the week, when we told other people the name of the town we’d visited first, they would reply, “Why would you ever go there? There’s absolutely nothing to do!” And we would just smile and say, “We just wanted to be in the middle of nowhere, you know?”
Besides, we found plenty to do.