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I’ve had gents tell me that it’s just ‘not sexy’ if they tell me how to top, or which exact area of their body they want me to slap and tickle, so they’ve respectfully requested that I make it up as I go along and they’ll let me know if I do anything that’s not hitting the right buttons.
But although that eases any worries that I might do something so awful it turns them off submission forever, it doesn’t ease my other pressing concern: that I am a flailing, insecure, bungling twat.
This is my easiest go-to domming thing, not because it’s a piece of piss (although it is), but because I cannot get enough of the look on a guy’s face when he’s desperate and pleading to come. The beauty of denial is that it can be done even when you’re not in the room.
At it’s very basic level, denial can involve wanking him off, then stopping, wanking, stopping, etc until the smallest of tears leaks from his eyes and the look he gives you is one of pure and burning need. A guy I knew used to love a slightly painful denial wank. At which point I’d stop, wipe my hand on my jeans, then continue touching him but with slow, circular strokes around the sensitive skin of his head. As a general rule I’m not a fan of sexting, because fuck it – if we’re going to have sex then I’d rather have it then just tell you in great detail exactly how we’re going to have it and have you text me back misspelled porn which I have to read and reply to on the bus. the situation in which I text him saying “I’m on my way to yours and I’ll be with you in twenty minutes.
One of my favourite dominant fucks happens in the missionary position – generally one in which people assume the gentleman is in control or holding the rythmn.