All Posts – Page 365
On how to ask nicely
When I was at school boys would occasionally, very occasionally, ask me out. Let’s say there were around 10 times this happened. On 8 out of those 10 occasions, they were joking.
Of course we grown-ups can tut and sigh and shake our heads at the cruelty of children, but what’s much better is to recognise what we can learn from it. And like all the best lessons in life, this one could help you get laid. Get your notebooks out, face front and keep your eyes on the fucking blackboard…
Understanding insecurity gives you a way into someone’s pants, because you can push the buttons that make them feel good.
It’s been years since a boy jokingly asked me out, and life’s a bit different now. I’m no longer fat and fourteen and in love with any boy who was willing to put his hand up my skirt during maths lessons, but I’m still a child really. That fourteen year old is just a bit bigger, and is gobsmacked that she has a job, a flat, and the legal right to drink herself insensible whilst livetweeting the Apprentice.
So despite my external grown-up-ness, the memory of these joke-proposals stays with me, as I imagine it stays with any girl who’s ever been shy, covered in acne, or good at science. Now that we’re grown-ups, no matter how hot we’ve become or how confident we are, there’s always a little something that makes us wonder if you’re joking when you ask.
A casual, throwaway, “Fancy a shag?” opens up the mental fight between confidence: “Say yes, say yes, he’s beautiful.” and the insecurity still nurtured by that 14 year old: “He’s joking. Say no. Then run away and cry behind the gym.”
If you ask this question of a lady and you don’t look serious, my money’s on the fact that you’ll probably get a no.
But God, GOD. In the situations where you really want it, and tell me you really want it, it’ll be the hardest thing I ever do to turn you down. There is nothing in this life more attractive than a man who is panting for you. Dripping for you. So desperate to get within 20 feet of you that he’d happily fuck a letterbox if you shouted words of encouragement.
And so, gents. When you’re looking at a lovely lady, and you think she might be out of your league, remember that one day she was probably fat and fourteen. She still wakes up most mornings and winces at her reflection in a mirror. She might worry that she’s got cellulite, or that her tits are slightly uneven, that her hands look old or her eyebrows unplucked or her feet too big for her awkward, stumbling body.
Approaching women is hard, of course. But if you can be the one who strides over with confidence, and says: “You know what? You’re fucking spectacular” then you win. You win so hard your friends will wonder what your secret is. You’ve just made someone’s day, and you could be the one screwing her twelve shades of happy by the time that day is done.
On that sex cinema in Soho
Update 2018: I’m adding new art to this very old post, and I realise that this glorious sex cinema frolic might need a bit of a content warning. It was a deeply pleasurable, intensely filthy thing, which I loved taking part in. It was also intense, as you’d imagine any event involving a slightly-nervous girl, her even-more-nervous boyfriend, and a gang of eager men with erections might be. It might not be for everyone, but if you like that sort of thing I’d like to reassure you that all of this was fully consensual, and I’m grateful to all these strangers for showing me such a sexy time!
On choosing the right words
Writing about sex involves very careful word selection. I probably use some words that kill your mood sometimes, and likewise there are some words that make me dry up and cringe into a ball of hateful misery. Here are some of them, feel free to add to the list.
Cum
You might think it is a sexualised form of a common word: I think it’s a spelling error. You say ‘tomato’, I say ‘I will probably be less attracted to you if you spell things wrong’.
Pussy
Good lord no. For so many many reasons, of which here are a few:
- ‘Pussies’ belong to porn stars and gangster hos, so experience implies that a pussy is something for a guy to fuck, not something for a girl to get genuine eye-rolling, bedsheet-tearing pleasure from.
- Say it out loud: “wet pussy”. Eugh. “wet pussy” It doesn’t sound like a part of a person, but something you might step in.
- Mrs Fucking Slocombe
Any word for ‘tits’ that ends in -ies
I have never had ‘titties’ or ‘boobies’. I have tits. These words are only acceptable during comedy, or if you are a member of the Bloodhound Gang.
Medical terms
When I leave the doctor’s surgery my vagina becomes a cunt. My breasts become tits. Likewise although my doctor has a penis, you have a cock. Dick. Prick. By using medical terms I start expecting a medical examination, so if you call it a ‘penis’ I’m less likely to suck it than to give it an ultrasound.
Cutesy names for your cock
You don’t fuck someone raw with ‘Barry Junior’. And I don’t want to swallow ‘Mr Winkie’. Come on, lads – it’s ‘it’, not ‘he’.
I have no idea why any guy ever does this, unless he has been with a girl who is a bit afraid of his looming, punishing hardon. Men: your cock is the most powerful, brilliant thing about you; don’t turn it into a fucking Disney character.
On number 22
Sometimes sex is serious, and intimate, and meaningful. It’s passionate and intense and every shudder and pant and drip of sweat makes you fall that bit more in love with them, even if you’ve forgotten their name.
That was not how it was with 22. He was glorious and fun, although I’m going to refrain from the word ‘childlike’ – I don’t want to be put on a register.
22 was a cutie, and fucking him was a burst of unexpected joy. Like walking home through the park at midnight, and treating yourself to a cheeky go on the swings.
It was his birthday, and I didn’t know him that well but the birthday was a great way in. We were with friends who were preoccupied with drinking and having fun
“Do you fancy a birthday shag?” He looked more surprised than he should have been, but nodded. I grabbed his hand and dragged him into the lifts up to my room. Awkward chat ensued, as both of us realised that we didn’t have much to say to each other, or any idea what the other one would find sexy.
I’d done the equivalent of rocking up at his house, asking if he could come out to play, then realising I had no idea what he liked playing, or if he even had a BMX.
Luckily, he was fine with that – he just wanted to play, and was happy to do it without an awkward preamble or time-consuming seduction. He started unbuckling his belt as we got in through the door, and once it was closed he pushed me backwards onto the bed and started tearing at me. He was far more beautiful than I’d expected – the sort of muscles that make me suck my own stomach in and realise I don’t deserve this.
He kissed like a 16-year-old, and got excited each time we changed up. Everything we did was like him unwrapping another layer of a pass-the-parcel – his eyes lit up, he grinned, and tore back in. Sex with 22 was like playing in the park, and being rewarded with sweets when I got up enough speed on the roundabout.
He was enthusiastic in a way that’s pretty rare, and daring in a way that more men definitely should be. He pulled my hair and whispered things, and let me lick his armpits and squeeze the base of his cock to feel how hard he was before he put a condom on.
And when I was done, and tired, and ready to rejoin the party, he let me take him deep in my mouth, and he pushed my head down so my lips were right at the base of his cock while he twitched, and shuddered, and came into the back of my throat.
We only ever did it once.
On whether I like spanking
Some questions are designed to elicit sexy answers, and others invoke a sense of wariness and dread. “Do you like spanking?” falls into the latter category, and here’s why:
‘Spanking’ encompasses a range of things – you can be spanked by someone who is giggling and brandishing a pink heart-shaped toy from Anne Summers. You can be spanked by a teacher, parent, boyfriend, girlfriend, or midget in a gimp suit. You can be spanked until it just about hurts or you can be spanked until the agony is so much that you want to bite straight through the pillow and into your bottom lip.
You can be spanked by someone who can’t get hard unless he knows you’re uncomfortable – who digs his fingers into the back of your neck and forces you over his knee, yanks your knickers down and rubs his cock into you while he whacks you. You can be spanked by someone who’s afraid that if he gives you more than a light-hearted slap you’ll report him to the authorities.
So the question ‘do you like being spanked?’ is about as relevant as ‘do you like food?’
Like ‘food’, I think everyone likes spanking. Be it a gentle tap on the bum to demonstrate ownership or so they can see your butt jiggle as they’re fucking you from behind, right up to a full-on gutwrenching spitefuck accompanied by slaps so hard they give you stars behind the eyes.
The question might open things up for more discussion and more extravagant play, but I’m always wary of giving a fully honest answer. Yes, of course I like spanking. But I’m loathed to tell you how I like it in case you spend the next five fucks trying to get the tone, the rhythm and the strength to my exact specifications.
So I think what I’m proposing is that we come up with a Universal Spanking Declaration, along the lines of:
“I like being spanked in some way, shape or form.”
That way we can assume everyone likes a bit, and push things gradually until we reach the point at which they say “oh fuck yes, that’s it.” After all, that’s basically what we do with sex itself, right? No one says “once my penis is inside you, do you want me to maintain a fairly steady, slow rhythm, or would you prefer me to tease you a bit then go at it hammer and tongs until you come all over my cock?”
No. With sex we play jazz. Because we assume everyone likes it we expend our energies working out how they like it best.
From now on, if you sign up to my Universal Spanking Declaration, I shall do the same. I know you like it, I just need to find out how; I’m going to play jazz.
Now bend the fuck over.