Friday, January 17, 2020

Diary

Diaries are a traditional method of journaling your thoughts, feelings and happenings, and people have been writing in their diaries for thousands of years. I’ve never been particularly good at keeping up with a written diary, despite trying several times when I was younger, but with the birth of the digital age a new way of journaling came to light. Did you know that the word ‘blog’ is actually short for ‘web log’ – a log of your happenings placed on the web?

I’m here to welcome you to this very personal area of the Cara Sutra sex blog. My diary. Here you can find updates about my homelife and work life, as well as events I’ve been to and other happenings. I’ve split this area into sex diary and kinky diary parts, to help readers find the updates they’d specifically like to read about the most.

Particular times of the year that I like to immortalise in my diary the most include birthdays, Christmases and other fun occasions and celebrations.

If you’d like an even more in-depth look at behind-the-scenes happenings, photographs not shown anywhere else and insights into my homelife, you can sign up to become a patron.

Readers who pledge their support to my work and website through Patreon ($5+ a month) can opt-in to a monthly newsletter where I provide a round-up of everything that went on with my family & I that month, along with sometimes hundreds of photographs to enjoy. Thank you for all your support.

The C Word: Let’s Talk About Cancer

Cancer. That word strikes fear into people. It's so terrifying that we tend to refer to it as The Big C, when we have to talk of it at all, and discussions surrounding possible or actual tumours stay firmly labelled with the friendlier sounding 'lump'. Those dark masses, whether they are found in ourselves or people we know, remind us of our mortality. We're all terminal, it's just a case of how long we have.

Girl date: The first fuck is the sweetest

I spread her puffy labia with my fingers, noting the wetness of her arousal leaking out on to my fingertips. I’d waited for so long and I was finally able to taste her. Lowering my head I silently offered a quick prayer to nobody in particular that I’d be good enough, then my tongue tip flashed over her clitoris while my lips sealed a circular kiss around the edges. Not content with giving just clitoral stimulation, worried it wouldn’t be enough, I slipped first the tip of my index finger inside her cunt, then my middle finger alongside it. Slowly and gently at first, I finger fucked her while my tongue danced over and around her clit.

Reclaiming his territory

He moved on his side to face me, both of us on top of the bed. His nose almost touching mine. There’s no argument which could ever be brooked with those dark eyes, brooding doesn’t even come close. Determined? Of course. Expectant. Dominant. In control. To be obeyed without question or hesitation. To stare into them means to know this is what you really want, to know your own mind and be strong enough to go where it and he leads. I'm proud enough to face those eyes openly and without hiding or running. They were out of focus range, suddenly… and his mouth was on mine, tasting and invading. The first penetration.

Spoons

Recursive ripples of pleasure emanating from our tangled form. My mouth taking in the pre-cum slicked tip of his cock, my lips wet by my tongue between taking more and more of his shaft until he’s fucking my throat. His freshly blown cock, still wet from a heady mixture of salty tears, cum and saliva, perfectly lubricated to slide balls-deep into my aching cunt. His generous cock which is always ready for more and never seems spent, completing the carnal hat-trick by flipping me over, smearing cold gel with finger tips and fucking my arse. Hard. While I sob from that addictive blend of exhaustion, need, pain and arousal, deep wracking cathartic sobs into the well-worn teddy of an ageplayer.

Pretty when I cry

Raising my hips in the usual way I can easily slip just the end of his still hard cock inside my incredibly wet cunt. Sucking him and making him cum hard down my throat always turns me on so much that my inner thighs are a sticky mess of arousal. I lean down to kiss him, my mouth still awash with the taste of his cum - but he loves the taste. It makes him kiss me all the more passionately, his tongue sweeping around my mouth, exploring, relishing every last remnant of his cum and combining that pleasure with kissing me because he loves me but lusts for me, and these moments are the culmination of that desire and emotion. I kiss him back harder, matching his passion, and at the same time sit down hard on his cock, my tight but slippery pussy offering absolutely no resistance whatsoever. He gasps and moans all at once, into my mouth as we're still kissing. So satisfying. I start to move, slowly at first, up and down on his cock and my tits hang down heavily, nipples brushing his chest hair. He moves his hands out easily from underneath my playfully Dominant hands on his wrists, there's nothing I could do to stop him. His fingers find my nipples and pinch them gently at first, then increasing in pressure until I'm the one moaning against his mouth in now intermittent kisses, gasping and moaning and squealing. Rising and sitting on his cock, my thighs clamped hard to his body, riding him on top and wanting more, always more, insatiable for his sex.

Can You Be A Homophobic Bisexual Submissive Male?

By Cara Sutra: Can you be a homophobic bisexual submissive male? Let's explore this fascinating subject. First, here's two interesting facts about a recent new slave.

Fifty Shades of Grey Movie Review by Cara Sutra

By Cara Sutra: I don’t care what you think about Fifty Shades of Grey. By the time the Fifty Shades of Grey Movie was released in UK cinemas I was bouncing with excitement about going to see it. Not because I’m the world’s biggest 50 Shades fan. Not because I find Christian Grey knicker-gushingly hot. Because I wanted to be able to make up my own damn mind without being torn one way or the other by other people’s opinions.

Why you need to ditch the ‘I hate 50 Shades of Grey’ bandwagon

I didn’t want a man (or woman, as it turned out) to look into my eyes and say my name softly as he/she fucked me gently. I wanted to have my wrists held behind my back, I wanted a hand tight around my throat, I wanted my hair around a fist and my head yanked back as I was kissed so hard that I would think I was actually dying from not being able to breathe, for my lips and neck to be bitten until they bled and I had lasting bruises to wear with pride. I didn’t want soft sex in the dark I wanted flipping over and beating with the lights on full. I didn’t want private intimacy I wanted to have hot wax dripped over my tits with an audience watching. I didn’t want a long, hard cock with a rich suitor attached, I wanted the choice of a man or a woman as a sexual partner, to ride life’s taboos which had been denied to me for so long and to taste the most exotic (to some, obscene) pleasures that the world and other consenting people could offer.

What I Get Out Of Locking A Man In A Chastity Cage

By Cara Sutra: What thrill could anyone get out of locking a man into a chastity cage? At a time when the spotlight is full blast on BDSM and kink it’s refreshing to see Uber Kinky coming to the fore and raising awareness about different types of alternative relationships. What I mean is, plenty of people are now aware of light bedroom bondage which has been mainly interpreted as female sub, male Dominant. Because all relationships consist of two people, hetero, cis, the whole gender binary he-she-bang. Well actually, no.

The Breaking of K (Wearing of the CB-6000 Male Chastity Device Journal from slave...

To dream of the unobtainable invariably leads to torment and unrequited desire. After last night's conversation I found myself imagining what it must be like to have sex with the most stunningly beautiful, unattainable, deliciously cruel Goddess and Bitch. I imagined Her naked body close to me, Her erect nipples betraying Her arousal, the heat radiating from Her sex and through that heat I could feel the moistness inviting my eventual penetration. Of course this was all in my imagination, but I was imagining something I'd never dared with any of my previous Femdom owners. Having said that, Mistress Cara is special, probably my last and certainly the most deserving and superior Mistress I have ever served. Perhaps even more reason not to imagine the impossible. Not only did I imagine it but I did so when my cock was restrained preventing not only sexual release but even a proper erection.

Can I really have an orgasm in my sleep?

Upon properly waking up I don’t feel the muscle tension that usually comes post-orgasm. The orgasm I had in my dreams isn’t that lightning bolt zing from clit to throat. It’s more of a rippling wave from top to toe, a gentle lapping of pleasure which unfurls from… where, I’m once again not sure. The pit of my stomach, my clit, my mind. All I know is that when I’m awake the feeling is ebbing away but it might just be the fading of a dream, not a real orgasm. One of my exes could orgasm without touching herself. Whether on the bus or just before going to sleep at night. Wherever she was she could just think about it and make herself have an orgasm. What an enviable skill. But her orgasms were always when she was fully awake, never when asleep.

Why I won’t be sleeping in the wet patch

I know what I want to happen after sex. I want to lay together, body to hot sweaty body, post-sex heat our only blanket, clinging together in glorious love - well, mainly stuck together with the velcro of rapidly drying bodily fluids. I want it to be just like ‘in the movies’ (films, for us Brits). To immediately drift into the deep peaceful sleep of the newly-shagged, in candlelight (without any thought of the fire hazard) and wake up in the morning still clinging together. As if we were Jack and Rose. Only Jack didn't have to die and Rose let him climb on the damn door. My makeup would be absolute perfection through the night, until the sun’s rays gently woke us from nauseatingly romantic slumber. My pillowslip would most definitely not look like a clown’s washcloth. Nor would my face.

Slamming on the brakes to find myself

I feel like I’m becoming a cold, corporate thing that isn’t really me. I’ve lost some of what makes me a person in my writing, in my blogging. I feel so privileged to be offered so much writing work, but recently I’ve been a writing machine. Churning out my best research, thoughts, tailored opinions and experiences for the delectation of various audiences. Marketing writing and promotions, features, columns and spotlights, admins and advert placement and promotional tweets, optimisation and backlinks and answering countless emails that never end. Sales advice, product advice, digital marketing advice, blogging advice.

Bear Faced Cheek

Caught Biscuit in the act. Naughty, dirty little bear, Daddy says, "well he must have learned it somewhere"

Together for four years – and this weekend we try something new

We're actually staying in a hotel room, for two nights, the two of us (my man and I) without anyone else. For most people in a relationship this long, this would have been out of the way and done with in the first 6 months, a year at most. Definitely before having a child, in any case. Not us. We've always had someone with us when we've stayed anywhere, from ex partners to the chauffeur slave who attends events with us.

Tell me, what’s your flavour?

Vanilla? Extra sauce? Something fruity with sprinkles on top? Get your tongues ready for a sexy summer.

The Time I Made Him Make Me Safeword

By Cara Sutra: He had his fingers inside me. It sounds so gorgeously innocent, doesn’t it? So young, almost like the first gentle corruption of a fresh faced virgin. They're just fingers; sweet, dipping in-and-out fingers.

Let’s Play Ball

I got a new toy this week, but not the usual kind.

Whirlwind of Fire

The evening passed in the usual blur where time speeds up and excitement is at a high. We got closer and closer during the evening and exchanged flirty banter and those looks. You know the ones. Curious, daring, challenging, knowing. Time was escaping us, rushing past in an echo of Alice in Wonderland madness. Swept up in her crazy hotness and wild fire we rebelled and kissed - and our lips then tongues meeting was fire to fire. The taste of not girl, but woman. Full knowledge and comprehension of actions, not some naive innocent who will later regret.

Is Pubic Hair Sexy? Does It Matter What You Do With Your Pubes?

By Cara Sutra: Natural dark curls, silky blonde fur, neat tufts or barely there at all. Is pubic hair sexy? Does it matter what you do with your pubes? For women, pubes are the central topic of an ongoing fight between popular culture purported by glossy magazines such as Cosmopolitan and Glamour and our innate right to do whatever we want with our own bodies.