February 2007

Previously on The Erotic Journal of Juno Henry:
Frissons of excitement ran across my skin, as I felt his hand move across and down my body languorously, until he reached my breast and gave it a playful slap. I gasped in surprise as much as anything, and hummed happily.

My adventure was just beginning.

I must state something about the way we were looking at each other. The attraction was so intense, so very strong, that each time our eyes met I felt as though their imprint was burned right into the back of my skull.

“I’m not sure what to do… or not to do,” I whispered.

“You’ll do what I tell you to do,” he replied. “I’m not going to bark orders at you like a drill sergeant, I’m just going to show you and tell you what to do, and you’ll do it. And you’ll love the outcome, you must trust me with that. OK?”

I nodded wordlessly, my eyes never leaving his. The beauty of it was how it felt so natural. There was no sense of chastisement, no feeling of being looked down upon or ridiculed. I had absolutely no sense of dis-empowerment, which I think is the key. As a dear friend had once said to me about a good Dom/sub connection, it’s a two-way street. Essentially, the sub is the one calling the shots, because she can have absolute trust and faith in her Dom, and this in turn means that any eventual outcome will be mutually beneficial.

He positioned me as he wanted me — my arms above my head, secured by one of his big, strong hands. (Mmmm. Tennis players. Mmmm.) He lifted one of my legs, and placed it up high, with my foot on his shoulder. He then positioned himself above me, his cock poised at the entrance to my cunt, which was extremely wet and slippery by this stage.

“Stay still,” he said. I nodded.

Our eyes still locked, he slid inside me slowly. This not being the the first time we’d fucked, it wasn’t a new sensation to feel his cock enveloped by my taut vaginal muscles, but it felt as good as it ever had, if not better. Once all the way inside, he remained motionless for what seemed like an hour, but couldn’t have been more than a minute. I said nothing, and gave no indication of the desperate yearning I felt to feel him thrust in and out of me. I just lay there, supine, my eyes burning back into his. I knew I was being tested, and I was determined to succeed with flying colors.

Eventually he began to pump in and out of me, and involuntarily I let out a grunt of satisfaction. He smiled at me, as he moved within me, and then slapped my left buttock, as he increased the intensity of his thrusting.

Damn, but it felt so good.

He lowered his face to mine.

“Kiss me.”

I obliged. That man could kiss. Goddamn! Apparently, he thought the same of me. He moaned softly, and gently bit my lip.

“Oh my god, I love the way you kiss. Where did you learn to kiss like that?”

I giggled, despite myself. “Kissing school, of course. Where else?”


I must just take a moment from the narrative here to describe the sensation of kissing him. I’ve kissed a good few men in my time, and have been praised for my own kissing technique. As a virginal (by choice) 19 year old, while fooling around with a casual (non-virginal) 25 year old fling, I was surprised and delighted to hear him say to me, “Are you sure you’re a virgin? You do not kiss like one.”

There are so many ways to kiss or be kissed. There are the unfortunate — the slobber, the TMT (too many teeth) syndrome, the all-too delicate and feather-like kiss that borders on the barely noticeable. Then there are my more favoured techniques for being a kiss recipient. The ultra-sensual types of kisses, where a person feels firm and real, and the kiss emanates from every pore of their body. Lips that are flexible, that nip, and touch and caress in tandem with my own. A mouth that meets mine proudly and squarely; no hesitancy, no ambiguity, but with confidence and certainty.

He was all of the above, and more. The first time we kissed, my thoughts were scrambled like so many eggs, and I was literally speechless for a good few minutes afterwards, as I desperately tried to regain my composure. And failed.


As he fucked me so deliberately and slowly, I grew slightly in confidence.

“May i ask you something?” I inquired.

“Yes, Juno, of course. (Damn, but i love fucking you.” he hissed. “Your pussy is so warm and tight around my cock… god, it’s incredible.) Ask whatever you like.”

“Can i sit astride you? Is it OK if i ask that? I mean, you’d want me to ask for that and only act on it when given permission, right? Am i getting this sub thing right?”

He increased the pressure and pace of his now far-less-leisurely fucking motion.

“Of course you must ask. You’re learning fast, and you’re doing very well, baby. And yes, you can get on top of me… but not yet.”

He suddenly withdrew, and shifted himself so that he was in front of me, with his hands under my knees, lifting them.

“Right now, I’m going to taste your pussy. You must lie very still. I mean it. Don’t move.”

He bent his head until his lips were touching my labia, but so softly that i felt my ass clench in anticipation.

“No moving, Juno. Stay absolutely still.”

I did as I was bid. His tongue tickled my clit bringing me to near-orgasmic status, and then tantalizingly leaving me hanging. I groaned.

“Please make me come.”

“All in good time, Juno. Patience.” And with that, he removed his mouth from my clit, and shifted onto the bed in front of me.

I wasn’t sure whether i should ask from my position as submissive — but curiosity got the better of me, and I’d already warned Iain that i wasn’t very good at being submissive — so i cautiously asked him what he was doing.

He smiled. “Just watching you. I love looking at you. You’re so sexy.”

He moved forward until his knees were straddling my chest, and gently slapped my face with his cock. I looked at him, and he nodded at me almost imperceptibly. I opened my mouth and he slid his cock into my throat, and began fucking my face.

It wasn’t the first time that thoughts had passed between us in such a psychic manner — another fact that had me reeling. I think this was partly why i trusted him, because i knew where his head was, and that he meant every word he said sincerely and from the heart.

He deep throated me with his cock and i lapped eagerly at him, gagging slightly but remembering to breathe through my nose, and relax my throat as much as i could.

“Good girl,” he praised me. “Take it in as far as you can.”

I obliged. Cocksucking is a matter of pride to me. I always do my best, because i love to give pleasure that way. However, I’d never been in this physical position before, but I was adjusting. Kinda.

He fucked my face for a few more minutes, and then shifted once again, so that he was lying on top of me, our faces very close together.

“Kiss me,” he said. Once again, i obliged. Once again, I swooned. He slid his cock into me, as though it was the most natural thing in the world and together our mutual fucking rhythm began again, except this time it was hot and fast and furious. We were both near our peaks and needed to get there soon.

His eyes never broke from mine, as, intent on our mutual goal, we moved together, like a well-rehearsed piece of modern choreography. I could feel the mantle of orgasm begin to cloak me as he slapped my thigh — once! twice! — and then my ass — yes! hit me! yes! — and i heard myself cry out in joy as i saw his face contort and my own peak came closer as he bucked and he shuddered, and he came and I came, and i called out his name and he called out mine, as he held me tightly to him and i could smell his very wonderful earthy manly smell as i shook and convulsed and gradually subsided and he did the same and i felt his cock pulsate within me and i laughed and he laughed and we lay there together laughing quietly until we were both contented and silent and spent.

I still see Iain, from time to time. You can understand why.

Fleshbotted, here.


Exclusivity is simply not my thing. Never has been, really. Experience is everything, feelings are secondary. That is, until the feelings become primary. Not to mention, primal. Yeah baby. I want to feel, i want to know, i want to experience everything. While obviously ensuring my own safety, I’m open to pretty much any kind of sexual experience that i can think of — the caveat being that they have to turn me on.

Well honestly, what is the point otherwise?

The sort of screaming, pumping, amazing wild-monkey sex that so many people write of had always been a closed book to me. The planets didn’t align properly for me to even begin to understand the endless possibilities of sex until i hit my prime, which unlike Miss Jean Brodie, was 35, with no discernible affection for Fascism.

But once i got it… whoo-hoo mama. There began the eternal quest for adventures, encounters and experiences. You have read of many of my adventures here in these pages — and it is my fervent wish that you will continue to do so. Reports are subjective, as far as the way in which my memory works. And nothing is ever chronological. It’s all a case of what tickles my memory with its sensuously long fingers in a particular week.

And this week it’s the turn of screaming, pumping, amazing wild-monkey sex. To quote Mia Wallace, as she wipes her nose of telltale snowy residue prior to returning to her table, “Goddamn, i said goddamn!”


You have heard me speak of my wish to begin experimenting in restraint and BDSM. Control is always the issue for me. I often feel as though my real life — and yes, i do have one — is spinning out of control on a regular basis. It’s therefore time to put down the laptop (for this, read prise it out of my hands) and exert some of my well-worn and born of long experience control mechanisms and functions, and calmly bring the situation back to Normal status.

Therefore, when the issue of control enters the sexual arena in which i voluntarily place myself, it’s hard for me to let go. Hard, but not impossible. If the right person is there, whom I can fully trust.

That was Iain.

Iain and I were separated in age by only a few months,, and in height by just the requisite number of inches to make me feel petite and protected when he held me close to him. We met at a conference that i was attending as a correspondent for my employers, and he was a key note speaker.

We quickly established the kind of bond that proves that not only do pheromones exist, but that they have a wild side. Instant attraction on the eye, compounded by a sudden realization that we had felt very similarly when I’d conducted a phone interview with him a while previously, but due to pressures of professionalism were unable to act on anything.

This, however, was different. We met in the refectory of the college where the conference was being held, over a casual and excellently strong coffee. Through no more mundane a coincidence than table-sharing, we quickly established who we were, who the other was, and what time we’d both be free to meet later.

I don’t waste time when i don’t have to. Impatience is one of my worst flaws.

We had a connection from the get-go. That was very clear. We both thought of similar things at the same time, and tended to have the experience of one person sharing while the other gasped and said “I was just about to say that!”. The initial rapport and attraction grew rapidly, enabling us to shed both our inhibitions and our clothing with great speed. And the fucking was something brand new to me. Not only was it of the screaming, pumping, amazing wild-monkey variety, but the almost other-worldly compatibility had me more breathless than i already was after fucking solidly for two hours.

As we lay, limbs entwined and tangled, realizing that we couldn’t stop touching each other even for a second, the conversation returned to one we’d started earlier… about control and submission. I felt so secure, and at ease, that I told him what i was feeling at that moment; although hearing it loud came as nearly as much of a shock to me as it did to him.

“I’d love it if you took control. I trust you.”

A moment of stunned silence passed before he recovered himself, and smiled into my eyes, before kissing me deeply.

“You won’t regret it. I won’t do anything to you beyond what you can take. And I’ll listen to you, I promise. If you want me to stop at any time, you can say so — just be sure that you mean it.”

Frissons of excitement ran across my skin, as I felt his hand move across and down my body languorously, until he reached my breast and gave it a playful slap. I gasped in surprise as much as anything, and hummed happily.

My adventure was just beginning.

To be continued.