I know very few things, but… I know how to lick pussy.
This is not an idle boast.
Read my testimonials.
I literally can’t count the number of women who have had their first partnered orgasm with me.
I literally can’t count the number of women who have had their first orgasm via oral sex with me.
Don’t get me wrong: there are plenty of women I haven’t gotten off. I’m not Superman.
What I am, though, is really fucking intuitive.
Cunnilingus is not, you see, a matter of skills, or techniques, or tricks. Any more than is cock sucking.
No.
The two keys to pussy-licking are hunger and listening: hunger for the delicious feast that’s before me, and listening to what a woman tells me. Listening to what she shows me. And listening to her body, in real time.
Honestly, I don’t care if a woman comes. Charlotte came fifty times with me this night, and Cleo didn’t have a single orgasm on this one. Both nights? Really fucking fun. Because I got what I want, and, along the way, she felt really fucking good.
I don’t care if a woman comes. What I care about is my ruthless desire, and her pleasure. Pleasure is not orgasm, and, for some, orgasm isn’t even pleasure.
I Listen. Closely. To what she tells me. To what her body tells me.
How does she masturbate? Does she use a dildo? A magic wand? A rabbit? A bullet? Each stimulates different parts. Each stimulates differently.
Does she come once? Never? Over and over? Does she take breaks? Tease herself endlessly? Even women who are pre-orgasmic know what feels good to them.
Is she too “in her head”? Does she writhe? What does she think about when she comes? Does she want to be a good girl? A slut? A whore? Does she want to be praised? Degraded? Is she even present? All this matters! There’s no right answer, nothing I demand of a woman whose clit I’m licking.
Fuck.
When I’m going down, all I care about is me. And that inevitably goes really fucking well for her.