When I was about nineteen years old, a boy I was madly in love with grabbed me by the wrist to flip me over in bed. I still think about that moment. It was swift and confident and perfect. Crushed up facing each other on my single student bed, we were breathing so close to each other’s mouths, with such burning lust, that we could easily have just passed pure carbon dioxide back and forth until both of us passed out. Maybe that’s why we were so high on the horn of it. At some point before I fully fainted with desire, he took action. And the way in which he acted was so fucking hot it made my cunt swell with a tortured throb. He reached down between us to where my arms were held across my chest, grabbed the wrist of the arm I was lying on, encircling it firmly in his grip, and pulled it down my body and over my waist. Using it to flip me over so that now – instead of us facing each other and there being a cold gap between us at crotch height – I was facing away, my arse pressed up tight against his aching, diamond-hard cock.

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Here’s something that has never happened to me in the whole of my slutty life: after a fuck, a guy pulls his dick out of me and shuffles down the bed, so as to get a better view of all the cum dripping out of my freshly-fucked cunt. Never happened. Ever. This is the shining truth at the heart of why I hate the term ‘creampie’.

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It’s pitch black in my bedroom. Weirdly, so much darker than it usually is. Perhaps a streetlight is out, or maybe I’ve finally managed the perfect seal on my blackout curtains, so not a sliver of London night sneaks through. Either way, it’s dark. He’s lying naked next to me, big hands sliding smoothly down my body, soft lips on mine, cock growing hard in my hand. And although I’m going to try and tell you parts of this story in the sexy/atmospheric way in which I’ve begun this post, you’ll have to excuse me if the odd burst of glee breaks through, because on this special night I managed something truly remarkable for me: I gave a guy a hand job to orgasm!

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When we walk in the door of the strip club, I can guarantee that the people his eyes are drawn to are the dancers. The one on stage half-naked, the ones hanging out by the bar flirting with customers, one or two emerging from the curtained-off booths at the back of the room. My eyes, on the other hand, are firmly fixed on the men – him included.

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If you want me to ask for a spanking, all you need to do is text before our date and tell me exactly that. If you want me to suck your dick? Likewise. Just issue an order and I’ll drop to my knees the second it’s convenient to do so. But if what you want is to have me eating out of the palm of your hand, the most dominant thing you can do is not fuck me.

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