Do not guess like you are brave
That is the whole article, if I am honest. Everything else is just me explaining it to the men who think asking is a mood killer and the ones who treat my body like a level they have already unlocked.
Hold my hips. Fine. I like that. Hands that know where they are going. Then ask. Then do it like you meant the answer. Confidence is not slamming into a pace you invented in your head. Confidence is listening with your hands still on me.
I say this as someone who likes it filthy. I am not asking for a risk assessment and a clipboard. I am asking not to be a spectator in my own night.
Guessing is not dominant. It is lazy.
There is a type. You know him. He clocks that I am cocky, that I swear, that I will kiss him back like I mean it, and he decides that means he has a free pass to set the speed. No check in. No look at my face. Just this idea that if he goes hard enough I will be impressed.
Sometimes I am. I will give him that. There are nights I want to be taken out of my head. Warehouse radio all day, flatmates, rent, the promotion I keep chasing. I want hands. I want to stop thinking.
That still does not make him psychic.
What feels good at midnight after two drinks is not what feels good at one in the morning when I have work in six hours. What I wanted last week is not a standing order. My body is not a playlist he saved.
When he guesses, I start performing. I fix my face. I make the noise I think he wants. I leave my own skin a bit. That is the opposite of hot, even if it looks fine from his side.
Asking does not have to sound like a seminar.
People online act like consent is either a legal document or a whisper so wet it belongs in a clip. Real life is ruder and simpler.
Like this.
This okay?
Slower?
You want it like that?
Tell me.
That is it. Said against my mouth. Said with his hand where it already is. Not a pause so long the kettle could boil. A question that still has heat in it.
I have had men ask like they are frightened of me. Soft voice, hands off, whole room gone fluorescent. That is not what I mean either. Take your hands off and it becomes an interview. Keep them on and it becomes part of it.
Hold my hips and ask the pace. The sentence works because both things happen at once. I am still wanted. I am still in it. I am also allowed to say not like that, and he does not take it as a review of his entire personality.
Watch my body. Then confirm it anyway.
I move closer, that is a yes. I go quiet and tight, that is not applause. That is me leaving the building while my body stays behind.
Some of you are very proud of reading signs. Breathing. Hips. Hands. Fine. Read them. Then still use your words, because I have been polite in bed before and it taught the wrong lesson. I have made it look good when it was only alright. I am good at surfaces. Makeup, smirk, the version of me that leaves the flat already performing.
Do not build a night on my performance. I can fake a face. I cannot fake coming and I am tired of men who cannot tell the difference.
If my hand is on yours, follow it. If I say wait, wait. If I say more, more. If I laugh, stay with the laugh. I come easier when I am not trying to look pretty. A stupid comment knocks the performance out. Filthy and funny is not a side dish. It is how I get out of my own way.
Tell me what you like too.
This bit goes both ways. I am not a slot machine you put questions into.
Say it. That. There. Like that. I want to hear it in a voice that sounds like you, not like you swallowed a script. Awkward and specific beats cinematic every time. I can hear when a line has been borrowed. It makes me want to put my clothes on.
I will tell you what I want done. I am not shy once the door is shut. Where. How slow. How hard. If you need me to draw a map, I will, but I would rather you asked and then committed. Half asking and then doing the other thing anyway is worse than not asking. That is just ignoring me with extra steps.
And if I say no to a pace, that is not me being difficult. I am specific. People love a girl who is easy to plan around. I have taste. I have a body. Wanting both respected is not a personality flaw.
Pace is the difference between good and something I will replay.
Rush me and I stay in my head. Hair, lighting, whether the wall is thin, whether she can hear, whether I look like I know what I am doing. Give me a minute to get stupid and it changes. Shoulders drop. I stop clocking the mirror. That is when I want your hands tighter. That is when faster makes sense.
Start slow, then do not stay gentle out of fear. Soft the whole way through feels like you are frightened of me. I like frightened even less than I like arrogant.
Anal, mouth, hands, whatever you are so proud of. Same rule. If you rush it I am done. If you check in and then actually use the answer, it can be properly good. Macho urgency is the fastest way off the list.
I do not need you to be a genius. I need you to notice I am still here.
The morning after tells me if you heard me.
Anyone can ask once while they want something. The test is the glass of water. The stupid talk. Whether you look at me like the job is finished or like I am still in the room.
I have left before sunrise because the sex was fine and the quiet after was empty. I have stayed for tea because someone held my hips, asked, listened, and did not make a speech about it. That second one ruins you for the rushed ones. Annoying, really. I liked being able to leave without thinking.
If you can take your clothes off you can ask if I got home. That is not extra. That is basic. Aftercare should not be marketed like a deluxe setting.
What I want, if we are being blunt.
Hands on my hips. Eyes on my face. A question that does not kill the heat. An answer you treat like it matters. Then a pace I can feel you chose with me, not at me.
I will meet you there. I will say where. I will say when to stop. I will say when to ruin me a bit, if that is the night. I will not do the whole performance while you guess and call it instinct.
Instinct is cheap. Listening is hotter. And if that sentence bothers him, he was never going to get the pace right anyway.
Ask. Then mean it. Keep your hands where they are.
