You know those nights you have, in bed with someone new and exciting… those nights when you feel like you’re… hmm. Sorry, I’ll start again. So you know those nights at the start of a relationship, just after you realise how much you want this to be a relationship… those nights when you’re f… fuck. Hang on. Let me try a different tack.

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I think it was a Reddit comment, that’s where the hairband trick originally came from. A guy was replying to a question along the lines of ‘what’s the hottest thing your partner does that isn’t specifically a sex thing?’ and he started waxing lyrical about hairbands. Prior to sucking him off, he explained, she did this thing where she reached for a hairband (from her pocket, her wrist, a nearby table, wherever: those of us who tie our hair up generally have a few scattered around our homes, bags and person at all times) and looked him dead in the eye as she scraped her hair back into a ponytail. It was hot, he explained, because not only did it get him pulsing towards erection via the Pavlovian effect of telling him ‘you’re about to get your dick sucked’, it also symbolised that she was taking this really seriously. Hair tied back means business. It means ‘I want to really go to town on you.’

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I really like this man. I am weirdly obsessed with this man. We just kind of… pulse with the same rhythm?

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I’m a big fan of meta sex advice: the tips that don’t tell you exactly what to do in bed, but instead guide you on how to better communicate with your partner. Recently one of my favourite sex writers, Joan Price, gave a perfect example of this kind of meta sex advice, and it just so happened to dovetail into a story I couldn’t work out how to frame from my own life, so it felt like a great opportunity to remind you all to follow her and read her amazing work.

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My bedsheets smell like last night’s fucking. Well, fucking which lasted the whole of yesterday if I’m honest. Then once again this morning at roughly 5 am. We barebacked: my favourite kind of fuck. Rock-solid, exquisitely-shaped, diamond-hard cock sliding inside me, bare. Leaking precum. I could feel every single atom of his dick against every ridge of the inside of my aching cunt. His flesh meeting mine, stretching me out. Sensing, as he slid into my body, just how desperately and urgently wet I was. We bareback fucked to a soundtrack of tunes that he selected and I utterly loved while I clung to that man like my life depended on it and begged him to never stop doing what he was doing. He looked into my eyes and whispered: “you’re fucking incredible” and kissed me with a kind of gentle awe. This is a real thing which happened to me yesterday. This man fucked me like he meant it. And oh God, put me out of my misery now please: if this man turns out not to mean it, I will shatter.

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