What do you do when your guy barely touches you anymore? 
I've tried telling him. He says he'll do it more but he still hasn't.
I've tried a lot. I've worn sexy stuff, we've had drinks, I'll give him head and if that doesn't initiate sex then he'll just leave it at that. 
But I want to be touched too.  I want to cum too. With him inside me,  with his mouth, his hand, a toy...  Anything. 
It's been over a year that things have been this way. Sadly I'm starting to feel so lonely and unwanted that I'm beginning to worry I might stray if another man shows me interest. 
I just want to feel wanted. 
😥

I am so annoyed at the moment. I see myself as a slut, I love being a 3 hole whore, I love being just used for the sexual pleasure of men. I feel the most happy when i get cocks shoved inside of me and when they spurt in or all over me. I love seeing myself drenched in cum. Giving Blowjobs, handjobs, and being fucked in all holes by multiple men in a row or at the same time is just a glorious and absolutely lifting feeling for me.
I love to be treated just like a sextoy, if a total stranger would come up to me to just grope me on the streets i would just start to melt because i'm so turned on by that. I don't want to be equal to a man, I don't want to be on the same level. I want to be on my knees i want to lower myself because that's what gives me a happiness that's just amazing and i can't get any other way. I love that i have a man who controls me completely. That i gave up my job to work as a whore was the best decision i was ever forced to make.
And now comes the part that makes me so annoyed. All this fucking Feminist Cunts out there who tell me i am oppressed. Fuck jes i am oppressed, i need to be because i can´t be happy any other way. I hate that i have a university degree because it was totally useless ever doing that, if only i would have found my way earlier I could have made so much more of this wasted time. But according to them im not allowed to feel this way. I need to be a Strong woman, fuck you cunt I am a strong woman i can take the fucking load of 40 Men in a fucking dirty back alley any time and ill be happier doing so than you ever will know it's even possible. I don't need to fucking prove myself to you "sister" all i need to prove is that my clients who pay for my holes are fucking happy with my service and that my Owner is proud of me. That's all that fucking counts for me....because I chose that it is that way. So fucking shut up. If I want to be just a living breathing Sextoy for everything with a cock....I fucking will be and it's my kind of fucking feminism. Why don´t you try it maybe then you would be happy instead of constantly angry and would leave other people alone.

Sorry I just needed to rant that out, Had some really annoying and unwanted conversation in that direction.

ROUND THREE / UNEXPECTED DAY THREE

Continuation of my Minnesota adventure: May 2024 [another very long post]

To recap:
I was visiting T, my 52-year-old long-time red-haired FWB, for the first time since October 2021. In the interim, she’d had major female surgery, put on some unwanted weight due to the anti-depressant meds she’d been taking (although she still looked amazing to me), and dumped a 20-y/o lover because “he came too fast, didn’t have a decent job, and couldn’t eat pussy to save his life.” I’d made the drive from Denver to her small town, located a couple of hours southwest of the Twin Cities, with the intent of doing what we always did. That involved catching up on news since the last time we were together, taking in concerts, museums and other attractions while spending the weekend in the Twin Cities, and having sex – lots and lots of sex.

I woke up around 7:30 Tuesday morning, following another three-hour fuck session that had wrapped up around two a.m. Because T babysits her two-year-old grandson every weekday afternoon, I had only planned to sleep over for two nights and then come back for her on Friday. She was dead asleep alongside me, with the covers pulled up over her head, so I left her alone and got dressed in the living room. Her car, a Ford Focus, had been running on fumes the previous evening, so I filled it up at the nearest gas station and then stopped off at a drive-thru for a bagel. Culinary note: I asked for the bagel to be toasted, with cream cheese on the side. Who the fuck toasts a bagel without slicing it first??? Sheesh.

Anyway, I returned to her place and was having my breakfast when T came out of the bedroom and plopped down beside me. I noticed she’d put on yoga pants and a loose-fitting sweatshirt, which clearly indicated she was officially "not in the mood." She is NOT a morning person, and that includes morning sex. I offered her half my bagel, which she declined. She’s also not a breakfast person. “Are you sure you want to leave today?” T asked. “I thought we settled that on Sunday,” I replied. “I’ll be back Friday afternoon and we’ll spend the weekend in St. Paul.” She gave me one of those inscrutable looks that leave guys like me clueless. “Well, Donna is coming over for dinner. We do this every few weeks and, besides, she wants to meet you.”

Donna was one of T’s former coworkers, a tall Nordic blonde who’d succumbed to T’s bisexual charms during a blizzard in February and was apparently still infatuated with my red-haired Viking princess. “You can leave if you want,” T teased, “but you’ll miss out on a fun dinner.” Something told me that dinner wasn’t the only thing I’d miss by heading north, so I agreed to delay my drive by a day. Hey – I may be clueless when it comes to women, but I like to think I’m not an idiot!

We spent most of the day pretty much the same as on Monday, watching TV, reading, and having light-hearted conversation. After homemade bean burritos for lunch, I agreed to help her sort through her massive clothes collection that took up most of a second bedroom. It was a claustrophobic environment dominated by two huge dressers her grandparents had left to her. Piles of clothes occupied every flat surface, but the drawers were nearly empty. Our task was to divide the wardrobe up into Donate and Keep. I suggested the latter category was likely to include “fits me now” and “I hope it’ll fit again someday.” That remark earned me a not-so-playful punch on my arm, followed immediately by an offer to “kiss and make it better.”

For about two hours, I pulled out articles of clothing as T passed judgment on each item’s future. It was really humid, even with the a/c running, so she'd changed into a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had been cut down into shorts. Occasionally she felt compelled to try things on to see if they fit – some did, but many did not – which meant she was regularly showing me her tits while putting on blouses, and turning around to show off her lovely ass with each skirt or pair of pants we came across. There was hardly any floor space, so we were constantly bumping into each other. T was also being very tactile – stroking my arm, smacking me on the ass when I didn’t move out of her way fast enough, and delivering a series of random kisses. Finally, I got up the courage to ask about her behavior.

“You know,” I began apprehensively, “I can’t help but notice how affectionate you are. It’s like the old T has returned.” During past visits, she’d regularly initiated public displays of affection, but I never felt comfortable asking about this behavior – mostly because I didn’t want it to stop. “Why now; why me?” She froze with her hand halfway reaching for a hanger and turned to face me. “You really want to know?” she asked quietly. “Always,” I said. “I used to behave like this a lot, because I’m an affectionate person, but my actions kept getting taken the wrong way. Nearly every guy I’ve been with assumed I was coming on to them sexually, as in, I wanted to fuck them right then and there. You, on the other hand, never give me that vibe, because I know you truly care about me as a person, not just some sex object.”

I must have had a weird look on my face while trying to process what she’d said, because she stepped over the huge pile of clothes still on the floor and bumped up against me, wrapping her arms around my neck and planting a seriously hard kiss on my mouth. The phrase, “You know I adore you,” escaped my lips before I could even think about what I was saying. In return, T took half a step back and countered with, “Well, if you must know, I really DO want to fuck you, but that’ll have to wait because it’s almost time for me to go be with my grandson.” With that she giggled, pushed past me to climb out of the room, and called back in my direction as she was putting on her sneakers, “I’m watching him over at their place, because I don’t want to inflict him on you two days in a row. I’ll be back around 4:30.” And with that, she departed.

At 5:00 there was a knock on the door, so I hopped off the couch and went to answer it. T had previously texted me to say she wouldn’t be home until six o’clock but offered no further details. I opened up to greet a tall, slender woman with close-cropped blonde hair and a narrow face, carrying a grocery bag in each hand. I said, “You must be Donna,” at the same moment she said, “You must be Zac,” and we both laughed. I grabbed the bags out of her hands and took them straight to the kitchen. Since T lives in a double-wide trailer (err, “manufactured”) home, the counter was a mere three steps away. I explained that T was running late, and Donna countered with, “Yeah, she called to tell me that while I was at the Hy-Vee (the local supermarket), so I should just get dinner ready without her.” I offered to act as a backup chef, so we both did food prep. The menu included cucumber salad with onion, sliced tomatoes drizzled with olive oil, beer cheese soup, a baguette of French bread, and strawberry ice cream for dessert.

As we worked, we chatted amiably. I was curious about T’s experiences while working alongside Donna, and she confirmed that the stories I’d heard about harassment were true. “She just seems to attract asshole guys,” Donna said with conviction. Then, as she realized what she’d said, added, “Well, not you, obviously.” I laughed and countered with, “The jury might still be out on that one,” but she was quick to disagree. “Oh, no. T says you’re the sweetest guy. She told me you filled up her tank yesterday.” I couldn’t resist the double entendre. “You mean her car’s gas tank, right?” Donna burst out laughing. “Yeah – that, too.”

But before we could delve into additional semi-smutty talk, T returned and gave Donna a big hug and kiss. “Did you rope Zac into helping you with dinner?” she asked. “He volunteered and did a great job cutting up the vegetables,” she replied. I’d suggested we do the salad Hungarian style, dressed with sour cream, vinegar, and a dash of paprika. Lacking a dining table, we took our plates and bowls to the living room – five steps from the kitchen (!!) – and ate at the coffee table. I parked myself on T’s leather recliner, while the ladies sat on the couch.

After dessert, I gathered up the dishes and offered to do clean-up, to which there were no objections! While I was washing, drying and putting things away, T dragged out her cannabis paraphernalia and the two of them were soon “dabbing away.” Donna asked if they should save some for me, but T put the kibosh on that. “He’s got too much of a tolerance for pot,” T explained. “We split a tube Sunday night, and he didn’t even get high. I don’t think it affected him at all.” I chimed in with, “Well, it made me horny.” T responded with a laugh. “Geez, Zac, you’re hornier than any guy I know, so it clearly wasn’t the pot talking.” Naturally, Donna had to come back with, “So, how horny was he?” There was some whispering that followed between the two of them, and I was too far away to hear the conversation, except for the part where Donna said out loud, “How many times?” and then followed with “Oh, my god.”

I wrapped up my KP duties and started back toward my seat when T piped up with a request. “Zac, honey – can you go pick up something for us to drink? We’re too wasted to drive.” I reminded her we still had that Smirnoff swill from the night before, but T said, “Oh, I poured that out. It wasn’t very good.” That was the understatement of the week! Donna suggested a bottle of wine so, after a brief discussion of white versus red, they agreed “red” was the best choice. I grabbed my car keys and left the two of them puffing away on the couch.

The same woman who’d helped us the previous evening was back behind the counter. “How was that Smirnoff?” she asked. “Looking for another bottle?” [That's the issue with small towns; everyone knows your business!] I told her it was the worst stuff I’d tasted since that shot of vodka I’d sampled in a Bratislava grocery store decades earlier. That got a laugh out of her, and we chatted for about ten minutes about our respective overseas adventures, until I suddenly remembered why I was there. Two minutes and $15 later, I was on my way back to T’s place with what was reportedly a halfway decent bottle of California Cabernet.

As I walked into her place, the lights were off and no one was up front. I set the bottle down and slowly felt my way forward. The bedroom door was closed, and the rest of the place was nearly pitch-black. Because of the harsh Minnesota winters and the lack of decent insulation in her place, T keeps all the windows blocked year-round, because “it’s too much trouble to always be redoing them.” It’s like a goddamned cave in there; you can’t tell whether it’s day or night without opening the door and looking outside. I had my hands outstretched to aid in moving ahead, but thankfully it’s a very narrow hallway with no obstacles. I put my ear to the bedroom door but couldn’t make out any sounds. I thought about calling out, but instead I retraced my steps to the living room, stripped down to just my boxer briefs, and returned to where I’d just been standing.

As quietly as I could, I twisted the door handle and pulled the bedroom door open. The first thing I noticed was a pile of women’s clothes lying on the floor. Peeking around the corner, I saw two naked women erotically positioned and illuminated by the dim bedside lamp at the far side of the room. T was lying on her back, her thighs spread wide and the fingers of her left hand making slow circles around her clit. Donna was sitting on T’s face, grinding away, while the palms of her hands were pressed flat against the bedroom wall, since T’s double bed has no headboard. Neither woman was being particularly vocal – Donna was breathing hard, but quietly, whereas whatever sounds T was making were being directed straight into Donna’s vagina. I took off my boxers and began to stroke my cock, which was quickly at attention.

I was being quiet, but Donna turned her head and caught me out of the corner of her eye as I was standing at the side of the bed with my cock in my hand. “Guess—who’s—back?” Donna managed to announce, in between gasps for air. T mumbled something that I couldn’t understand, but Donna was apparently skilled at interpreting mouth-to-pussy speech. “She wants you to go down on her,” Donna translated, so I wasted no time climbing onto the bed and hopping to it. I pushed T’s hand aside and wrapped my lips around her little button-clit. I sucked on it hard, which really sets her off, and then I shoved two fingers deep into her pussy.

Eighteen months earlier, when T had the first of two back-to-back vaginal surgeries, she was worried they would affect her “pleasure parts,” as she called them. But for the past two nights, I was a witness that she was as orgasmic as she’d ever been. Meanwhile, Donna was raking her crotch up and down T’s mouth, and I looked up just as T took the hand she’d been using on her clit and stuck her middle finger deep into Donna’s ass. “Well, that’s an interesting turn of events,” I thought to myself. T was not a fan of anal play on herself, although she occasionally enjoyed it when I moistened my index finger and rimmed her butthole while simultaneously circling her clit with my tongue. She calls it “the double roundabout.” This was the first time I’d seen her finger-fuck another woman in the ass, although she’s never been shy about pounding a girlfriend’s other hole with her fingers. It didn’t take long for me to get T bucking and moaning, and I stayed with it until she exploded into a thigh-quivering orgasm.

After lifting myself up to catch a breath, I decided not to continue with more cunnilingus but instead mounted T, shoving my cock into her ultra-moist pussy. She made a half-hearted effort to push me away, but my 225 pounds was no match for her 140, so I stayed put. With Donna’s firm ass staring me in the face – she hadn’t dismounted from T’s face, despite already having had at least one orgasm – I balanced precariously on top of T and used my hands to grip Donna’s buttocks and spread them apart. Seconds later, she had the experience of two tongues on her, with one at each hole.

T mumbled something, with Donna apparently understanding her query, because she replied, “He’s got his tongue in my ass.” I sure did! But while focusing my attention on the shapely tush in front of me, I’d stopped fucking T and simply left my cock motionless, albeit balls-deep in her pussy. She seemed miffed by this lack of attention, because she responded by wrapping her legs around my thighs and humping up against me, fighting to attain yet another orgasm. Donna came with a grunt and a shudder, moaned, “Ohhhh, gawd!” and rolled off T’s face to collapse on the far side of the bed. Unfortunately, her unexpected dismount caused her knee to smack against the side of my head, and I think I might have lost consciousness for a few seconds. When I regained my senses, I’d rolled off T, having ended up on the same side of the bed where Donna had landed.

“Are you OK?” Donna asked, with concern in her voice. “Did I hurt you?” I pressed my hand to the spot where her knee had made contact with my skull. “No blood, no foul, I guess,” was my flippant reply, which was enough to elicit a hearty laugh from both women. It seemed like a good time to take a break, so I slid down to lie across the bottom edge of the mattress and laid my head on my outstretched arm. T said, “I think we could all use a drink,” and for once, I agreed that was a good idea. She climbed off the bed and slipped quickly into the kitchen, where we could hear her cursing because she couldn’t immediately find a corkscrew. I was torn between remaining in the bedroom and watching Donna play with her clit, which she was doing absent-mindedly, and following T into the kitchen to lend a hand with the wine. With the cry, “Zac – come here. I need you,” the decision was made for me.

I found T leaning back against the sink, the wine bottle in one hand and a fairly elaborate corkscrew device in the other. “I think I’m too high to figure this out,” she admitted, so I relieved her of both items and managed to extract the cork without damaging my hand, or my male ego. T looked absolutely delicious, nude with her pale pink nipples at full attention, her flushed skin accentuating the freckles on her chest, her red triangle down below curly and enticing, and the tang of pussy juice in the air. We stood there, wordlessly, for a few seconds – each checking out the other person’s body – until she reached out and wrapped her hand around my semi-tumescent cock. Then, she uttered a sentence any red-blooded male would love to hear in that situation: “I want to watch you fuck Donna, and then I’ll clean you both up.”

She and I have performed this act before, but the last time was old-COVID. Back in 2019, while spending a fuck-filled four-day weekend in a St. Paul Airbnb, she’d picked up a waitress at the neighborhood pastry shop. We’d gone there for breakfast two days in a row, where during each visit T got more and more flirty with the young woman behind the counter. On Day Three, after telling me to pay the bill and then scram, she somehow talked Simone into coming over to our place once her shift ended at noon. Awaiting her arrival, T told me Simone was only interested in girl-on-girl sex, which was OK with me. And true to her word, Simone showed up on time, stripped off her clothes, and dove into T’s pussy as if she hadn’t had sex in months – which turned out to be the case. I sat on the sidelines, stroking and watching, as they both worked each other into multiple orgasmic frenzies. Taking a break, T said to Simone, “I’m thinking about sucking Zac’s cock, because I love the taste of his cum, but I’d like it even better if it came dripping out of your pussy.” Simone seemed more than a bit skeptical, until T told her that I’d do her doggy-style so she didn’t have to see me fucking her, and that I’d do my best to ejaculate quickly. Given the stroke job I’d been doing on myself the previous 30 minutes, that last part wasn’t going to be a problem. Simone agreed, somewhat reluctantly, and I took her from behind – a deliciously tight 22-year-old pussy that needed only half a dozen pumps to get blasted. T fulfilled her part of the bargain and even managed to make Simone orgasm one last time as my man-jizz ended up all over T’s face and then down her throat.

On this evening, however, there was no reluctant acceptance on Donna’s part. I carried three full wine glasses into the bedroom, distributed them accordingly, and then T announced the next stage in our hours-long fuck-fest. As soon as T explained what she wanted us to do, Donna and I looked at each other and asked, nearly simultaneously, “How do you want me?” That got all three of us laughing, but T had her own idea. “Do her missionary, Zac, so the cum won’t leak out before I gobble it up.” Thankfully I wasn’t drinking from my wineglass at that moment, because I would have probably done a spit-take onto her lovely striped cotton sheets. Instead, I drained the last of the liquid and handed my glass to T, who set it down on the nightstand closest to the bedroom door. Then I dove forward to shove my face into Donna’s crotch.

I’d caught her by surprise, but she didn’t voice a single objection, instead sliding her butt forward so she could lie flat on the bed. I tongued her slit for a minute or two – she tasted really good – and then hopped up onto my knees and guided my dick into her pussy hole. Donna reached up and pushed against my shoulders. I thought she was doing that to get me off her, but she only wanted to create enough room to pull her knees up and press them against my chest. This was actually a very effective fucking position for me, because her legs acted as a sort of spring against which I could thrust and retract. She supplied at least half of the motion, and I was able to hang onto her knees for leverage instead of having to use my arms to bear the weight of my body.

We built up a good rhythm, with lots of heavy breathing on both our parts. Meanwhile, T was sitting cross-legged on her side of the bed, finger-fucking herself with an in-and-out motion that matched my own pussy pounding. Just as T said to Donna, “Don’t be surprised, but he sometimes takes a while to come,” I froze on the downstroke as my cock pumped three or four streams of cum deep into Donna’s pussy. All she said was, “Done?” and when I could only nod my head, she used her legs to push me off her while holding her ass up off the bed. T swooped in and dove for the gusto, first licking up the drops of cum that had dripped off my cock as I withdrew, and then using her fingers to dig deep for the rest of the load.

I managed to stand up at the foot of the bed, knees sagging a bit against the edge of the mattress to maintain my balance. T was really slurping up what I’d left for her, and I jacked my dick a bit as I watched. Having completed her task on Donna, T spun around and licked me clean. “Fuck, that was fun!” she exclaimed, and then guzzled down the rest of the wine in her glass.

We’d easily passed the three-hour mark, and I was exhausted. The ladies climbed off the bed and headed to the bathroom, while I flopped down onto the mattress with the aim of slipping off to dreamland. T had other ideas, however. “Hey,” she called out, which awakened me from my near-slumber. “Donna’s staying over, so you’ll have to camp out on the couch.” I began to object, but my argument fell on deaf ears. “There’s just no room, Zac. Sorry. You’ll find an extra pillow and a blanket in the room where my clothes are.” I passed Donna on my way down the hall, pillow and blanket in hand. She’d stopped off in the kitchen for a glass of water and patted me on the ass while I was setting things up on the couch. I straightened up and gave her a kiss on the cheek, but she put her hand gently on the side of my face – coincidentally, the same side where she’d kneed me earlier – and gave me a deep kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you in the morning, OK?” she whispered. I thanked her for an amazingly fun time, which got a shy smile from her before she returned to the bedroom and closed the door.

I’m sure I fell asleep within minutes of stretching out on the couch. At six-foot-zero, I had just enough room to lie on my side (my preferred sleeping position) with my knees slightly bent. Even so, my head was pressed against one arm of the couch, and my feet rested up against the other one. Many hours later – I had no idea of the time, since the windows were blocked and my iPhone was in the other room – I was awakened by something stroking my lower leg. Forgetting where I was for a moment, I imagined it was my cat, Jemima, since she rubs up against me every morning as if to say, “Hey, human. It’s time for my breakfast.” So, when I opened my eyes to see Donna perched on the edge of the couch, as naked as she’d been the night before, I regained full consciousness damned quickly.
She put her finger to her lips and motioned for me to slide over. As skinny as she was, there was still hardly any room to accommodate her lying next to me, so she ended up mostly on top, one knee between my legs, her well-trimmed crotch pressed against my hip, her breasts against my chest, and her mouth a mere inch from mine. “I know T isn’t into morning sex,” Donna said in a very low voice, “but I hear you’re quite the fan, right?” I agreed and lifted my head up so I could give her a good-morning kiss. She slipped her tongue into my mouth while reaching down and wrapping her fingers around my rapidly rising cock. “Mmm, morning wood is the best wood, don’t you agree?” she teased. She squeezed me gently, and we continued to make out as she ground her pussy against my hip bone. Once she determined I was sufficiently erect, Donna threw her leg across my body and straddled me effortlessly. “You were on top last night, so now it’s my turn,” she said. Before I could object – not that it even occurred to me to do so – she had my cock all the way inside her pussy and was rocking back and forth on it with gusto. I reached up and tugged on her small nipples, which were like rock-hard cherries, and she worked her way into two very quick and enthusiastic orgasms.
Donna climbed off after her second orgasm but recognized I hadn’t had one. She teased me a bit with her tongue on the very tip of my cock, pushing my hands away as I tried (unsuccessfully) to engage her mouth more fully. “Be a good boy and put your hands behind your head,” she instructed, “or else I’ll leave you to take matters into your own hands.” At my age, I wasn’t sure how much cum I could muster, given the prodigious amount I’d pumped into her pussy just six or seven hours earlier, but any blow job was better than no blow job. [I think I read that saying needlepointed on a pillow, once.] Donna continued to tease my twitching cock, using only her tongue and resting her hands on either side of my body for balance. She must have toyed with me like this for 10 or 15 minutes before finally relenting and taking my dick all the way into her mouth. Her tongue action continued to be amazing as she bobbed her head up and down only slightly. Still, it was enough of a turn-on for me that I managed to ooze out a bit of cum as I orgasmed. Donna gave me a pretty smile, climbed off the couch, and said she was heading to the shower. “You could probably use one, too,” she insisted, so I joined her under a thin stream of warm water and soaped up her body as she returned the favor. We didn’t get into anything more sexual, but I truly enjoyed the mutual contact.

T climbed out of her bedroom about an hour later, already dressed for the day in a t-shirt and yoga pants. Donna and I were sitting on the couch, a respectable distance away from each other, as we watched a local TV news show. T greeted each of us with a kiss and then went into the kitchen to brew herself a cup of tea. Upon her return, she squeezed in between us and stretched out her legs so her feet rested on the coffee table. Looking at each of us in turn, she asked, “So, did you two have a nice morning fuck?” Before either of us could answer, though, she leaned over and kissed Donna on the mouth. “Thanks for taking one for the team,” she giggled. “You know I’m not into old-noon dick.” I shot back, “I guess I'll set my alarm for 12:05 then.” T stuck out her tongue at me and said, “You’re leaving for St. Paul as soon as you get packed, and Donna will help me with my clothing once you leave.”

After that comeback, I had nothing more to say, so I placed my pjs and my shaving kit into my suitcase and headed for the door. T forestalled me as I passed through the kitchen and wrapped her arms around me in a sensuous hug. “I’ll see you on Friday, lover,” she breathed into my ear, and moments later I was in my car. My final, fleeting thought as I drove down Broadway toward the highway was, “Well, I think my tongue AND my cock can use the three-day break.”

I've been underhandedly getting away with skull fucking my wife despite knowing she absolutely hates it. Here's how it works.

The key is alcohol, and finding a reason for her to drink way more than usual that isn't too obviously a setup. Holiday gatherings are great for this, especially because she likes hosting. Once guests leave for the night we're just a few feet away from our bedroom, rather than having to waste time driving home while she sobers up. Another great option is suggesting a drinking game when she's in the mood to rewatch an old movie, then suggesting rules that'll result in her sipping way more than she expects. Sometimes it can take 2 movies.

The other big component is the type of alcohol. Her preference is vodka, but can't stand whisky, which is perfect. At the start I let her make her drink of choice, but after about drink #2 I start offering to make our drinks. I then double the amount of vodka in hers, but make sure that whatever mixers she's using can overtake the taste, and generally she doesn't seem to notice once she's already a bit buzzed. My drinks, on the other hand, only have a little bit of whisky poured over top of a lot of mixer. That way she can smell it if she wants to try a sip, which is rare, to give the illusion I'm drinking along with her.

Another serendipitous component is that she's lost a decent amount of weight recently. So she of course looks great (I personally thought she looked great before as well), but when she drinks she forgets her tolerance is terrible. So as she's rounding out drink #5 or so she's having trouble sitting up straight, at which point I have to start concealing my anticipatory erection. The last couple times she's suggested that we eat something b/c we've been drinking so much, but it's been easy enough to distract her away from that idea for a bit longer.

So here's how I get away with the unwanted face fucking.

Once I can tell she's at party time I wait for her to get up for some reason, usually to go pee, because the bathroom is next to the bedroom. Then I meet her in the hallway and start getting handsy. Usually it doesn't take much convincing, so I don't have to push her very far to get her into bed. One time it was especially sexy because she pretended like she was refusing, play-fighting off my advances saying I was just trying to take advantage of her while she's dr*nk and can't fight back. My dick's never been harder.

So I get her fully stripped, usually being rough along the way, so that when I tell her I'm going to tie her up she's kind of expecting it. She knows I enjoy tying her to the bed, but it's usually to the corners of the headboard with her on her back. Great for sex, but a terrible position to reach her mouth. Instead, I tell her to come over to me at the foot of the bed so I can tie the ropes around each wrist first. I usually aggressively kiss her while I do this to keep the momentum going, and tell her that I want to fuck her from behind, which she loves.

Then comes the twist. I tell her to lay face down with her hands hanging off the foot of the bed, rather than up by the headboard. She's been a bit surprised each time, but gone with it. Again, she thinks I'm completely dr*nk, so maybe writes it off as a harmless dr*nken request and lays face down as instructed.

I take the first rope and tie it to a bed leg, and make sure that she's scooted a bit closer to this first side rather than centered on the bed. This is important, and ensures I can make the rope short, and conceal any extra slack out of her view. I save our shorter rope for her second arm. When I go to tie the second bed leg, the rope is always a bit short, so I ask her to scoot toward me so it'll reach. She does, and in doing so makes her first arm as extended as she can while also extending her second so it'll reach. Once that's done, I tie her second wrist to the second bed leg, and at the last moment I pull it extra tight. This process only takes a few seconds, and she's never noticed I made it intentionally tight.

This process results in her arms being fully extended so she can't move backward very much, while also ensuring she's slightly hanging off the foot of the bed. I should also mention that the foot of the bed meets me at about mid-thigh, so her head is just below my waist level.

I then make a bit of a show of climbing on top of her like we're about to get into it, feeling her up and kissing or biting her neck. Then before I start, I get up, grab a smartphone stand we have next to the bed, position my camera so that it's filming her face at just the right angle for what's about to happen, and start recording. Then, since I'm already standing, I go over and start aggressively kissing her. I do this both because it seems natural and turns us both on, but by being aggressive I am pushing her head back to see how much give there is with the ropes. Usually there's not very much.

Then I stand up and my dick is right at her face level. In the past, most of the time she says she wants to suck my dick, probably thinking of it as foreplay, but of course for me it'll be the main course. Her offering has always been so sexy because it shows she doesn't realize this was the plan all along, and because she's just instigated what I'm about to do to her.

I act natural, bending my knees slightly to reach her mouth, and she starts sucking. She doesn't realize that I won't be taking my dick out until I've finished cumming. At this point I'm standing a bit back so the blowjob is easy and relaxed. Usually her tits are sort of smooshed and overhanging the edge of the bed, so I feel her up as she goes.

As time goes by, I slowly take tiny steps forward so she won't notice my dick starting to dig deeper, little by little. Slowly her head gets a bit lifted as she continues to bob up and down while I inch forward. At some point along the way things transition from her moving in and out, to me moving my hips forward and back, again slowly so she won't really realize. I also eventually go from my hand lightly on the back of her head to my fingers woven into her hair and slowly begin squeezing.

After a few minutes have passed, and I can tell she's beginning to get tired, I begin to stop bending my knees. Once I'm stood fully upright, her head and mouth are essentially locked into place. She can't go anywhere, can't move her head back to get my dick out, can't move to the side or turn away because her arms are so outstretched. Now is when it transitions from a blowjob to a face fuck and I start pumping.

I usually start talking and moaning louder at this point, partly to say things that maintain an illusion that I'm too dr*nk to realize what I'm forcing her to do, and partly to conceal any noises she makes to express her displeasure. "God I love head when I'm this dr*nk." "Fuck babe you're really going for it, don't stop." "That's it babe, use your tongue, oh god that's it." I've felt her struggle and try to pull away before, and I just push her head back down and keep fucking. I've looked down before and seen her hands open and close and fingers wiggling as she tries to move around and can't. Her feet sometimes do the same, sort of twisting like she's trying to wiggle away but can't.

To get away with this I can't really keep it going too long, though. The longest I've pushed it was about 12 minutes, with about 8 of those minutes being the skull fuck portion of the show. Any longer and it'd be hard to argue I didn't realize she wanted me to stop even though I'm "completely wasted". So I need to wrap things up.

The way I do it is I tell her something like "Oh god you're too good at this, I need to cum. Can I cum baby? Tell me I can cum baby." as I ensure I'm standing as far forward as I can. It's not really a stretch to claim that her frustrated "Nuh uhhh!" sounded like an enthusiastic "Mm hmm!" She doesn't seem to struggle too much when I get balls deep, which is fantastic after not cumming for about 10 days. It's even better when I can hear her continuing to protest while I'm telling her I'm cumming. She usually dry heaves a couple times, but she's never puked, and I make sure I feel her swallow before I finally drag my dick out.

She's never told me off, surprisingly, especially if I tell her I'm about to fuck the shit out of her like she originally wanted. Once the rest of the fun is finished she usually falls asleep right away, given she probably would've already if I hadn't pushed her into the bedroom and kept her blood pumping. She's never mentioned any of these skull fuckings the next day after sobering up. I don't know if she kinda remembers them but it's foggy and not so bad when thinking back, or if she just forgets. But so far I've gotten away with this 11 times, and each time she seems surprised when I suggest tying her hands to the foot of the bed, like it's the first time I've ever suggested it.

I decided to post this because it's such a treat, and requires a few hours of investment, but the payoff to all that buildup is worth it. Also it's been on my mind because we're having friends over this weekend for someone's birthday, and that friend has requested vodka-based mixed drinks.

What's weird is that I don't find a lot of amateur porn with this setup, where the woman's hands are tied to the bed so she is face down at dick level for the guy to do w/e he wants. Plenty of staged videos, but not many that seem genuine. If anyone reading knows of any with a similar setup to my approach, please post them in comments. Would love to watch them. Thanks for reading.

Regarding Good_Girl_Amber, her profile and whereabouts on motherless, written by her master

 Firstly, I got locked out of the account and I don't have any way to recover it. I lost the login info to the email and I didn't back it up to any other email so its basically gone. Not a huge deal, considering I deleted everything off the profile before that anyway. The main reason we don't post anymore is because she has expressed an interest in making money off of her sexuality, and considering how broke we've been it is probably a good idea. Also, this website offers a lot of attention from dudes who are legitimately scary. Especially considering how memorable she is, it's hard to feel safe having fun on this website anymore. 
That being said, we both liked posting here, and we might still do it again. But it's just so hostile. People act like she owes them something. They can't just chill out and enjoy the pics and vids, have a little fun with her. I loved making her blush hearing all those comments, I loved that she was getting confident about herself while hearing dirty stuff about her. She always got very horny when I would take pictures of her and we'd have great sex. I've tried sharing in private but that just makes people even more attached to her in an unwanted way. 
And honestly, I see a lot of guys tribute girls in the boards here lately. Where was that when we were posting? I wanted to see pics of her covered in cum like she deserves. 
All we ever wanted was to have some fun and it started to get pulled in other directions. If anyone has any advice, I'm all ears. I know she wants to make money, but she also wants to make me happy and I love sharing her so I know she'd do it again.

Any thoughts or comments are appreciated