Lena: What Friends are For

Lately, Lena has been blindfolding you when you have sex. Or rather, she’s been blindfolding you when you give her head. That’s been your staple diet for a couple of months now, and accounts for about 80% of the sex you have. She likes it every day.

“It’s better when you can’t see me,’ she says. “When you can see me, you get all impatient and think you get to fuck me. But this isn’t about that. So put it on now and take your time.”


So, once again, the last thing you see is her smiling, expectant face before you slip the blindfold over your eyes and then find your way down to the small patch of scented hair that remains between her legs, and then a little way below that, the wetness begins.

She’s lying diagonally across the bed, and you are kneeling at the side of it. It’s dark, warm and comfortable, and pretty soon the world around you fades away and you start zoning in on that wet lick of skin leading up to her clitoris. It becomes your world. The only sounds are her moans. Then after about ten minutes she wraps her legs around you, has a quiet, squirming orgasm, and then makes to get up.

Normally she’d have three, but today she says, “I have to get up for a moment and go check something. Stay where you are. Don’t take the blindfold off.”

Obedience to that sort of instruction has become second nature by now, seeing as the results are always so sexy; so you don’t think to question what might be going on, and just wait there for a few moments until she re-enters the room and lies down again. “Begin”, she says, in a husky voice, and you get started.

Well, she must have done something out there, because she’s not nearly so wet as she was a moment ago, and you think maybe she dried herself off with a towel, but you can’t imagine why. But after a few moments she juices up like before, but the smell is different, sweeter and lighter than her normal salty wetness. Has she put some sort of new perfume down there? Maybe she’s trying to make it taste nicer by putting some sort of lotion on it, although you have never once complained about the taste.

The clincher comes when she starts moaning. Her voice has changed; it’s deeper, and she calls out much louder than quiet, sly Lena would ever do.

“What the hell?”  You sit up, pull the covers off you head and see Lena’s friend Nicol lying there is a pre-orgasmic glow.nicol

“Hey, I was enjoying that. Keep going.”

“Whuh..? Where’s Lena?”

“Downstairs watching TV. Something with Johnny Depp is on that she didn’t want to miss.”

“Oh…” You just sit there looking dumbfounded.

“Oh, man. I knew we should have tied you up,” she says, half to herself. “I would always tie my boyfriend up for something like this.  But Lena said you were such a bimbo it wouldn’t be necessary. Anyway are you going to get started? I’m starting to cool down here.”

Giving Up Chastity for Lent

The time of sanctified abstinence is upon us, and I think it would be most appropriate for me to abstain from the selfishness of my chaste ways and have a couple of good ol’ mind-bending, sleep-producing orgasms sometime right about, oh, say, now.

This has been partly brought on by me being allowed to come on Saturday during sex, and not enjoying it as I was too drunk to feel much. Michelle did not come and did not ask me to make her come afterwards. All in all, it was a deplorable state of affairs, reminiscent of the worst of our marriage about eight years ago, and generally not what it should be about at all.

So now I’d really like to recify the situation with a good hard come for both her and me. Especially me! And then I’d start up with the chastity thing again. Hmmm.

Michelle isn’t having a bar of this…

"You had your orgasm on Saturday. It's not my fault you didn't enjoy it. Now stop whining."

"You had your orgasm on Saturday. It's not my fault you didn't enjoy it. Now stop whining."

Note: Michelle will not allow pictures of her on here, but I have been lo0king around the net for pictures of women who resemble her in some way and I found this girl, Lenka. So now there’s a pair of green-blue Slavic eyes to go with the caption.

More Michelle lookalikes to follow in another post…

Madame Mia for Queen of OWK!

The Other World Kingdom is, as far as I know, the world’s only fully-fledged effort to run a large scale femdom / gynarchy porn business in a real location and with a consistent cast of characters (dommes and slaves) played by “real “actors. Sure, they have their own queen, their own palace, and their own religious and cultural practices. But they also have their own media unit, their own currency, their own sales and marketing team, and no doubt their their own interesting tax situation too, and they are in many ways remarkably similar to a small (and extremely strange) country.

In the end, it’s the good ol’ femdom that brings you back to earth and reminds you that really, this is just a bunch of ladies from the Czech Republic who get paid to bash up older males and film it.

I do not think I would make a good and loyal citizen of the Other World Kingdom. It is not that I object to the notion of a fictitious femdom kingdom per se, but rather that I would feel compelled to take political events into my own hands once I were within its hallowed walls. Yes, I am talking about a revolution.

The current Queen of the OWK, Patricia, is never shown (in the public section at least). But in the public galleries she is variously pictured has having both brown and blonde hair. Now, feminine mystique is one thing but to my mind, a queen who will not show her face to the public is vulnerable to insurrection…

Especially considering that one of the lesser known sublime ladies of the court, bearing no particular title or rank of honour, is Madame Mia, who looks like this:


I know a strong leader when I see one. We need change and we need it now, people! Look at that stomach! Mia for Queen! Come and joing me in a new Prague Spring! We will overthrow the old regime and move forward into a new era of unparalleled prosperity based on our glorious five-year cunnilingus plan!

Ah, but already I can feel my revolutionary ardour cooling. Maybe we could all just stay home and surf the net instead…

Really the thing is: there’s real female sexual power, and then there’s plain old porn. And I don’t care how elaborate your coat of arms, this is plain old porn. For men.

I kinda like it, but I can’t take anything about it remotely seriously.

Lena: Learning the Hard Way


‘Honey, I need your help with something. ‘

You come up the stairs to find Lena there in the white morning light. You can see in her eyes she wants something, but she won’t ask you directly. She’ll start by asking you for something else.

‘You have to help me with the straps. I can’t reach them. I need to have a shower. You made me very dirty last night.’

‘I didn’t hear you complaining.’

‘Well I am complaining now. You need to be more fitter so you don’t sweat so much.’

She reaches around easily, and starts undoing the white backstraps. Now you know what she really wants. Or do you?


‘OK, I’ll get down to the gym later.’

‘Good. And speaking about excercise did you do that other thing I asked you to do?’

‘The tongue excercises?’ You laugh. ‘Yes I have been doing them.’

You point out your tongue in demonstration, poking the tip of it in and out of your mouth firmly and rapidly. But she doesn’t see, she has turned her back so you can give her the help she certainly doesn’t need.


‘It’s OK, I don’t need to see. You just make sure you keep doing them.’

‘Sure…by the way, Lena, where did you come across that website? I mean, I don’t mind doing the exercises but some of the stuff on there was pretty…weird. I mean, not bad, just strange.’

‘What do you mean?’ You can’t see her face but you know that she is smiling.

‘Well, the woman seemed to be suggesting that a man should be…kind of like a servant to the woman. It talked about “oral servitude.” That kind of stuff.”

‘And?’ She is still smiling, the eyes all-knowing and amused, and you are almost unable to meet her gaze.

‘Oh…well, I…it’s just that there are lots of other sites that give tongue training exercises, I looked them up. I just wanted to know why you picked that one….?’

‘It’s the best one. I like her. Now, that’s all you need to know. You don’t need to worry about it. Just do the exercises, hmmm?’

‘…right. Sure thing.’

‘Good. Now, I go have a shower. After that we see if your tongue is any stronger.’

She takes off the top. You’re all hers.


Czech Armpit Study Misses Point by 180 Degrees, Says Deviant

Back in 2005, a Czech scientific team led by Jan Havlicek of Charles University in Prague got 48 men to complete questionnaires that measured their social dominance. The men were also asked to collect their underarm sweat by wearing cotton pads.

A group of 65 women then sniffed the pads.

Havlicek and his colleagues reported that women who were ovulating — and thus at their most fertile — and were in stable relationships rated sweat from the men with high scores for dominance highest. Other women did not show this preference.

The researchers suggested that while women are likely to pair up with men they believe will be good fathers they might be hardwired to stray with men with good genes.

Copyright 2005 by United Press International

And boy, did this study ever do the rounds of the internet. It was like all those supressed jocko homo types with websites called things like Men Confirming What They Already Believe Dot Com latched on to it as hard as they could. “We always knew those married girls we drool over were secretly attracted to us! This arbitrary survey of 65 women proves it conclusively!”

OK, sure. I’m left wondering about a couple of things. First off, how on earth do you measure social dominance in a questionairre? You are always going to get some geeky types who are not really dominant at all but are smart and vain enough to answer the survey as though they were.

Second, why was the women’s study question so different? You see, the team did study women’s armpits and give the pads to men to smell. (I wonder if they had to pay them – and by the way, this part of the study is reported way less often on the internet). They only studied 12 women and then gave their armpit pads to 42 men. Apart from the fact that the sample numbers were less, what puzzles me is that the question they asked was so obvious, and so different.

Is women’s armpit odor more attractive to men when they are ovulating? Why, yes it is. How surprising.

But if the study was about dominance in men, why was it about fertility in women?

Unless of course, the women’s fertilty was assumed to the the major factor in their attractiveness from the outset of the study.

For the record I do not find my wife’s baby-making potential her most attractive feature. I believe there is a serious dearth of scientific research in this area. Science must step up and answer the question: do horny, orgasm-starved men greatly prefer the armpit odour of socially dominant women?

Anecdotal evidence round my way strongly suggests that they do…

Lena: Sticking to A Good Thing

‘I enjoyed last night,’ says Lena sleepily.

‘Oh, good. Me too. The guide book said it’s one of the best places in the area, so I figured it was worth the extra koruna, for sure.’

‘I don’t mean the restaurant,’ she says. ‘Although, it was nice. But I don’t need a guide book to tell me that. I used to live here, remember.’

‘Oh yeah. Sorry. So…anyway, I’m just glad you are having a good time being back home again. You want a coffee?’

You’re already up, showered, the coffee is on, and you want to get a move on so there’s not too much of a queue for the museum. But Lena has not moved from the bed. She’s still lying there in her night shirt, her evening make-up still close to perfect. She gives you a lazy half-smile and says:

‘No, I don’t want coffee now. I was talking about the sex, last night. I enjoy it. You make me feel pretty good.’

Pretty good? Talk about being damned by faint praise. But, you have already worked out that this girl always says what she means, and never says anything she doesn’t mean, so it doesn’t come as a big surprise. And you are going to be on holiday together for the next three weeks, so you might as well learn to take it on the chin.

‘Thanks,’ you say. ‘I aim to please.’

‘Good,’ she says. ‘It’s a good attitude. But there is one thing…’

‘What?’ you say, immediately and instinctively.

‘Well…’ She puts her arms up around her head (a position in which she spent much of the previous evening), and her shirt falls open. ‘How do you say in English…when I am on a good thing, I stick to it? And you are a pretty good thing, so…’

You feel a little downhearted, because that sounds like it might be a criticism, and you really thought she’d had a good time.

‘Sorry. I think I know what you mean. I thought you had…finished.’

‘Why?’ she asks.

‘Well, you…made noises like you were coming, so I thought, after that, it would be OK for me to go for it.’

‘Oh, I get it. You think I’m talking about the fucking.’ She gives you another sly smile.

Now you really are perplexed. You’d thought she meant that you’d come too soon during sex, even though you thought you hadn’t.

‘Yeah…that’s what I thought,’ you say. ‘I’m confused. I thought you’d come, so…’

‘The fucking was good,’ she says. ‘And yes, I did come, you are right. But, if you want to hold on for longer next time, that’s good, too. But actually, I was talking about what happened before that…’

What happened before that? After you’d kissed for about half an hour, you went down on her, for another half an hour, to make sure she was totally satisfied, to make sure her first night back in her home town was really something to remember. As far as you knew, she came at least once, maybe twice.

‘Oh, you mean the…cunnilingus? I…ah…what was the problem with that?’

‘Who said there was a problem? It was great. That’s why I don’t know why you stopped. And, I don’t like that word for it. Just call it eating me out.’

‘Alright, well, because I’d been…eating you out, for a while, and it seemed like you’d had enough, and I thought it would be OK for us to have sex.’

‘Hold on, you talk too fast,’ she says. ‘First thing, how long is “a while”? Second thing, why do you think that I have had enough?’

‘B…Because, you came! Didn’t you?’

‘But what is that got to do with it?’ she asks, her grammar slipping as she gets impatient with you.

‘Well, normally, when someone comes, they can’t…’

‘Normally, says who?’ she interrupts.

‘Well…alright, I suppose it’s just that when I was with my old girlfriend, if I made her come, that would be it for quite a while. Probably for the evening. So…’

‘Am I your old girlfriend?’ she says.

‘No, obviously not. Look, I think I’m missing the point here. I’m sorry that you didn’t get what you wanted. Next time you better just…ask me, I guess.’

‘I got a better idea,’ she says. ‘Next time, I say when I am finished. Like I said, when I am having a good time, I want to keep having a good time. That’s the point you are missing. OK?’

‘OK. So, next time I’ll just…keep going?’

‘Yes. Now, you have to make it up to me.’

‘Sure,’ you say, your eyes flicking over to the alarm clock, aware of the time rolling on. ‘What did you have in mind?’

She rolls her eyes, and then smiles at you. ‘I want what I missed last night, of course!’

She begins to slowly pull down the elastic on her panties. The lazy, teasing look in her eye has changed to something a little more demanding.

‘Oh…sure thing, but just for a bit, though. We don’t want to be late to the museum.’

She laughs. ‘Do I look like I want to spend the morning at the museum? I went there when I was a girl.’

‘Uh…I guess not, then. So, how long do you want me to, uh…?’ You falter, not sure how to finish the sentence.

‘Eat me out?’ she prompts.

‘Yeah. How long do you want to…’

She rolls her eyes again. ‘I don’t know how long I want it for. But I’ll let you know when I’ve had enough, you don’t worry about looking at the clock. You just keep going til I stay stop.’

She has now totally removed her pants. Your scheduled morning’s touring vanishes as her pussy comes into view. You feel lightheaded just remembering the scent of it from last night.

‘Right,’ you say. ‘Just one thing…if this was what you wanted, why didn’t you just ask me?’

She laughs again, and says:

‘And miss making you all confused? Why would I want to do that?’


NOTE: Lena is a 20-year old Czech girl who has modeled for the London Studio Group on three occasions, all in Prague. By all accounts she is actually very shy, but she doesn’t look it here. Or maybe that’s just my imagination…