The night is not finished when you finish. Sit up. Talk rubbish. Touch my back. That quiet bit is how I decide you get another.
Category: How I like It
If you rush I stay in my head fixing my face. Give me a minute to get stupid. That is when it gets good both.
A bruise with no text after is just mess on skin. If you claim the body, you can claim the morning as well afterwards too.
Do not bury your face treating it like a task. I want the look. I want you to clock it. That bit stays with me.
I can feel when you are half in the room. Hands on me, eyes on a screen, I go cold. Be here. Notifications can wait.
I want the warm-up first. Then I want you to mean it. Soft the whole way through feels like you are frightened of me really.
Serious sex makes me watch myself. A stupid joke knocks the performance out. Filthy and funny is not a mood. It is the whole method.
There is a difference and you can feel it immediately. Hold me there. Do not treat my head like some handle from cheap porn films.
I want the sentence you would actually say. Not a script you borrowed. Awkward and filthy beats cinematic and fake. I hear the difference immediately.
Not romantic on paper. Still adult. A man who can say the word clinic without crumbling is doing more than the ones who just hope.