On Fucking and Being Fucked

I’ve been trying to write something like an Origin post for this blog – who I am, my relevant life experiences, how I discovered my queerness to where I am now, what I hope and want for the future, and some commentary on what happens on that road. This isn’t that. Not completely anyway…

This is the bit where I get fucked with a real cock for the first time.

Helena and I have been on Fetlife for quite a while, and have good friends on there IRL and on line. When we started there, I was identifying as straight, Dom, kinky. A new city and a lot of real life meant that we took a bit of a step back from there until Summer 18 where we suddenly found we had sufficient spare capacity to start having that sort of fun again. It wasn’t that fun was switched off, just that it kind of took a back seat; I think a lot of you who have been kinky or adventurous for an extended period can probably relate.

Anyway, this summer, we started exploring the local scene, and ourselves, and discovered a new and wonderful selection of kinky friends, a few of whom are now friends first and kinky friends second. There was also a rather interesting few days in the summer where we were child-free, had the house to ourselves, the run of the toybox, the dressing up box, the kink furniture, and we weren’t available to callers. Add a little social lubricant of the sort you don’t want to be caught at airport security with, and a lot of personal discoveries were made, certainly by me. Helena is a wonderfully open, beautiful, reflective person, and knew herself much better than I knew myself. In fact, she knew me much better than I knew myself too … that’s when I recognised the ‘not-straightness’ that she’d always known was there. I mean, I knew I had slightly queer side, but I hadn’t had much interest in exploring it. Now, I’m more likely to describe myself as pansexual, queer. There’s a big old blog post right there …

Our circle of friends from that side of our life are all ‘not-straight’, with various preferred labels, and there have been some outrageous shenanigans on the way, which I will get to in another post. This one didn’t involve them – this was a couple we met via Fab Swingers. There’s a fundamental difference between Fetlife and Fab – Fetlife is mostly about showing off what you’ve done, taking cool photos, writing cool stuff; Fab is more about meeting up with new people and fucking them. I was looking for an interesting couple (as in, we can have a social life with them, not just a sex thing) with a bisexual male who I could play with. I’d sucked a few cocks over the last few months, but I wanted fucked by and wanted to fuck a man.

We found them; let’s call them Alison and Mark. A strictly social night was had, and we got on brilliantly – socially, politically, world-views, everything. This is what happened when we went to theirs for dinner …

I have to admit to being a bit nervous about how the evening was going to pan out; there was no doubt that it’d be a lovely night, but there’d been no explicit discussion about who wanted to play with whom, or that we’d actually play. I mean there was an expectation from the WhatsApp chat, but it could all just fizzle out, or the chemistry might just not work, or … yeah. I was overthinking it all, and by quite a margin. We’d planned for success, and brought a very limited toy bag (Helena’s strap-on, a wand, lube, condoms), but I was aware that it could all go home unused. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted it to work, but if it didn’t, these are two fundamentally good people who I want keep as friends. That seemed at least as important as filthy fun.

Dinner was lovely, wine flowed, and the conversation was flowing more freely than the wine. About how Mark had taken his strap-on with him to their first sleep over, and how they’d ended up in one of the city’s more exuberant gay bars. About how my ex had had a visit from the police when a security guard had caught Helena and me getting up to sexy silliness and not checked that I’d obtained her informed and enthusiastic consent. About the differences between swingers and kinksters.

The ice was well and truly broken by the time we retired to the living room to chat some more. Alison was lovely; she checked in with me that we were both comfortable and chilled. I let her know that we absolutely were, that I hadn’t actually discussed it with Helena, but that she was happy to go with how she felt in the moment, to join in, or to enthuse from the sidelines, or whatever.

I’d love to take you through the rest of the night blow-by-blow, but frankly, I was far too deep in enjoying the fuck out of it to be taking notes for a blog post. I can tell you that Mark is naturally submissive, and that Helena had him with his collar and lead on, exploring his puppy side. I can tell you that Alison does not have a submissive bone in her body and my default Dom side had to be taken under my own control. I can tell you that there’s little hotter that your partner pulling you off the beautiful woman you’re doing all sorts of delightful things to so that she can do even more delightful things to her.

I can definitely tell you this; putting your mouth around a soft cock and running your tongue over it, licking from the bottom of the balls to the tip, stroking the underside of the head with the flat of a well-moistened tongue, and feeling it firm up is a fucking incredible feeling. Lavishing the head of it with attention whilst slipping a finger up between his cheeks and stroking his arse, feeling the pulse and hearing the groan as you slide the finger in, is out of this world. Having his partner whisper in your ear, asking if you want that big hard cock up your arse is as hot a thing as I’ve ever heard. The evening had such a momentum that it didn’t quite happen at that moment, but delayed gratification is an incredible seasoning.

I’m not entirely certain what happened in what order over the course of about 5 hours of kinky fuckery, but at one point, I asked Mark if he was ready to fuck my arse, because I was sure as fuck ready to have it fucked. And by Christ, he was. I lay across the bed with my chest flat to it and my knees drawn up under me to present him with his target. The women noticed what we were getting ready to do, because I heard Helena saying to Alison that what she was doing was fucking lovely, but she had to stop, because she wanted to see me getting my arse fucked for the first time. Jesus, that was nearly enough to set me off with no further stimulation. I felt fingers behind me, working in the lube and stretching me out, ready for him. I’ve got no idea who was doing it, but if it was one of the women, that’s be even fucking hotter. Let’s just assume it was eh? I heard Helena whispering in my ear about what a dirty little slut I was, and how much she wanted to see me take that big fucking cock in my arse, and Alison warning me that Mark’s cock was fucking huge, and as big as she’d ever seen it, and how it made her eyes water when he fucked her like that, and I couldn’t do more than grunt in anticipation of feeling this fucking monster slide into me.

I felt him line up and the pressure against my sphincter. I felt myself opening up to him, and I felt the most incredible fullness as he worked himself slowly in. To be honest, I’d lost all awareness of anything that wasn’t that magnificent cock in my ass. Helena and Alison were both on hand, enjoying the sight of one of their partners fucking the other, and checking in with me, ‘Are you ok? Do you want it deeper? Slower?’ I wasn’t much capable of conversation, I just wanted fucked, and I must have got that across.

Reader, he fucked me. Slow and fast, shallow and deep, from behind and me bouncing on top of him. And it was incredible. My cock seemed to be dribbling constant pre-cum, and when we swapped over, it was more of the same. I love it when Helena fucks me, but this is different. I love sex in all its varieties and permutations with her more than anything else, but for the isolated case of having my arse fucked? It’s got to be a warm, hard cock that you’ve brought to life with your own mouth. Although I’m sorry I missed Mark bouncing on Helena’s cock until he came all over her tits, her hair, and somehow, his own hair. I’d happily have fought Alison to clean that up, but I’d just as happily have shared the spoils …

I think it was about 4am by the time we all collapsed into their enormous bed – I think everyone had fucked everyone with the exception of Helena not getting fucked with her own strap-on by Alison, but since they want us to take them to one of the local kink clubs for her birthday, I’m sure that’s only deferred success.

This is my contribution to Wicked Wednesday – click the image to see who else is having naughty thoughts …

Published by

Raoul Duke

I'm queer. I've identified as queer for about a month before I started this blog, but the path from "maybe not entirely straight" to now has been about 3 months - yeah, whoosh. The thing is that this has always been there - less repressed than unrecognised, I think. I'm going to talk about my journey, my history and some of the shits'n'giggles and personal challenges that have come along with this. I hope it's a conversation.

30 thoughts on “On Fucking and Being Fucked”

  1. Well wasn’t that fucking delightful!! You bloody lucky boy! Thank you so much for sharing this with us. There was so much in this post I enjoyed, guy on guy, girl on girl, whispering of filthy words! Hot, hot, hot! If I ever find myself in the same kink venue as you two I am DEFINITELY daying hello 😉

    Liked by 1 person

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