The more I do, this more certain I’m getting that the majority of heterosexual males want to be humiliated and dominated – except they’re too afraid to tell their actual sexual partners.
It’s weird how I can get such an insight into the perversions of the male mind. In a way, I find it kind of sad that society tells men that they’re not allowed to be submissive. I wholeheartedly believe that role-switching is the way forward.
And speaking of that, I just had an hour long conversation with a man from North America (he wouldn’t specifically tell me which part, but did discuss the geography of the USA for a while. It’s your money, man.)
So, after enlightening me that people from Minnesota have a weirdly Canadian accent, he began to ask me how old I was and when I first had sex, how many sexual partners I’d had, etc. I answered truthfully because I find it easier than lying. Knowing me, I’d slip up.
In his delightfully American accent, he coyly admitted one of his fantasies: he wanted a woman to make him swallow his own splooge. Not too out there, right? He seemed to think it was. I reassured him softly, then coaxed him to continue. While he stuttered out his next fantasy, I took a bite of the bacon sandwich next to me, smothered in HP sauce.
He asked me if I was into ass-play, which I’m not. But I’m not going to tell him that. I told him that I enjoyed it occasionally, to which he responded approvingly. Great. He’s going to want me to fuck him up the ass.
Minutes later, we were in the throes of moans and dildos – well, the dildo-ing was on his part. He requested that I google a ‘Maia Astral D3’ – spoiler alert, it’s a big ol’ dildo.
Now, I can honestly say that hearing a man slide a dildo up his ass and wince in pain isn’t particularly up my alley, but like a trooper, I took the role of El Dominato and chuckled haughtily down the phone, informing him that he wasn’t allowed to stop until I said so.
At the end of the call, he was forced into a chastity cage (it’s a cage for the peen) and I was fucking him up the butt with a strap-on. At our grandest moment, the call was cut short because he ran out of credits.
He was a cool guy.