Writer, Kinkster

26, she/her

You're in a tough position. You've got a partner who loves you, but who isn't arriving at this with the same hunger you are. And I think that gap is where the awkwardness lives. So you hold back. Which means he never gets to see the full version of what you actually want. Which means he can't meet you there. Which means you hold back more. And it just keeps spiraling.

So here's my actual advice. You have to say the gross disgusting things. Out loud. To him. Even when it's awkward. Because if this person loves you, they have to love all of you, including the parts of you that want things you can barely say without cringing. And they have to at least be given the chance to want those things too.

I think some people assume that being kinky is something you either are or you aren't. Like you're born knowing you want to be choked and degraded and that's just your wiring. And sure, some people figure it out early. But the vast majority of people discover what they're into slowly, over time, through exactly the kind of exploring you're doing right now. He might not be there yet. That doesn't mean he won't get there. It just means he hasn't had the chance to catch up to you, and I don't think he ever will if you keep filtering yourself to make it easier for him.

So put the whole thing on the table. Tell him what you actually want. And then give him time to sit with it. He might surprise you. He might not. But at least you'll know whether this works based on who you actually are instead of who you've been pretending to be for his comfort.

And it builds. My grip tightens. My breathing changes. My stomach tenses and I can feel it gathering, this heavy hot pressure that keeps winding tighter the longer I drag it out. I’m edging myself because I like the torture of it. Getting right to the limit and then loosening my grip and letting it fade just enough to start building again. My cock is flushed and leaking and twitching every time I take my hand away and honestly it’s a beautiful thing and it’s a shame no one’s here to appreciate it.

Which is why I need you.

I want to wake you up when I’m close. Just to watch. I’d tap your shoulder and you’d roll over still half asleep and see me with my cock in my hand, thick and hard and dripping, my chest already rising and falling fast, and I’d tell you to open your eyes wide because you’re not going to want to miss this. You can touch yourself. Rub your clit under the covers, grind against your pillow, whatever you need to do. But you’re just here to enjoy the show. You don’t get to put your hands or mouth on me without permission. You just get to watch me stroke my cock and listen to the sounds I make and get yourself off to the privilege of being in the room while it happens.

And then I cum.

Long ropes across my stomach and up my chest because I’ve been edging the entire night and I’m so, so pent up. It’s on my abs and my ribs and pooling in the dip of my collarbone and dripping down my side onto the sheets and I’m still twitching, still catching my breath, still leaking onto my own fist.

That’s when you get the okay. That’s when you get to work.

You start at my cock. Of course you start at my cock. You’ve been staring at it this whole time and now your tongue is finally on it, licking it clean from base to tip, gentle because I’m still sensitive, feeling me flinch against your lips while you lap up everything that’s left. You take your time with it. You’re thorough. That’s why I like you.

Then you work your way up. Your tongue tracing the trail along my stomach, licking the cum off my skin, following the mess up my abs and across my ribs. Cleaning each line I left there like it’s something precious. Your mouth on my chest now, your tongue dipping into the pool at my collarbone, swallowing everything I gave you. Working all the way up to my neck where you press your lips against my throat and I can feel you breathing hard because doing this got you more worked up than whatever you were doing to yourself under the covers.