I am super excited to introduce today’s guest blogger, because it’s the wonderful Confess Hannah! I’ve been lucky enough to spend some time with Hannah in person, and I have huge admiration and affection for her. She’s a brilliant writer and a wonderful human being, and has written some very hot and very moving pieces. Although she’s not currently publishing new content on her own blog, you should definitely go and follow her on Twitter – as long as you can be respectful about her gorgeous erotic photos. In this fabulous post, Hannah talks about the delights of learning…
I love it when partners know exactly what makes me tick. I am talking about the feeling when someone in a crowd makes an off the cuff comment about a kink of mine and they give me a knowing smirk from the other side of the group, or when they whisper the words I fucking love into my ear as my hair is stuck to my face by the mixture of spunk and saliva covering my face. Knowledge really is power.
But it was not always this way. Although I am often not shy in telling complete strangers on the internet that I love anal sex, or in confiding some of my deepest, darkest fantasies to my friends, it is difficult for someone to really get inside my head. At first, that is.
However, this is far from a problem. In fact this is one of my favourite aspects of a partnership: learning. I want you to learn and to discover for yourself. I want you to hear the noises I make when you first twist your hands through my hair or after you tell me I can take more. I crave the knotted feeling inside my stomach when you first confide that secret desire which I have an overwhelming urge to satisfy, or when I share a hot story I have read and you share the aspects which made you hard, or squirm, or wet.
Tell me what you would do to me, or with me, or near me. I will realise that it is different to others, and allow my nervous excitement to build. It is laced with you, and it is hot, beautiful and breathtakingly sexy in its uniqueness.
Be nervous. Assert yourself, and then ask if that was okay, or too much. Hear my smirk when I reply ‘not enough’. Let me into that thing you have always wanted to try, and let us arrange the time to, at the very least, give it our best shot. Let it be hot, so fucking hot we can’t breathe afterwards, or let us fall into a laughing heap and regroup over tea and biscuits. The fucking delicious noises we can’t help but make are just as valid as giggling, stalling or realising this isn’t working. The exhausted ‘we must try that again’ is just as delightful as the ‘wait… let’s try that again’ as I’m trying to reposition and find our fit.
I want to watch your eyes widen as you realise how much you enjoy restraining me, throat fucking me until my mascara runs down my cheeks or beating me, and widen even more when that feeling takes you by surprise. I want my eyes to widen as my cunt simultaneously tightens around you when I run my hands through your hair, giving it a little tug, altering the dynamic we had anticipated. Expect to use me as a dirty, desperate whore but get hard when I curl up on your lap and purr as I lick the tip of your cock. You fucking love when you are able to call me a good girl, but you unexpectedly feel ready to burst when you call me a helpless fucktoy. You know pet play isn’t your thing, but you find yourself calling me kitten and delighting in my response. Expect me to be silently waiting, obedient and compliant, but realise you enjoy trying to pin me down as I wriggle from underneath your grasp. I tell you how much I hate being looked at when I’m being fucked, but as you hold me down and watch me smirk, we feel the need to watch the mischief ignite in our eyes.
I think I want bruises, but you suck my lip as you kiss me, and I am awash with desire to be adorned with bite marks. The scratches down your back are too hard, so instead I lightly trace the tips of fingernails along your side, as I bury my head into your neck to stifle my orgasm.
Most importantly, let us place enough trust in each other to explore together, and discover what makes us different. I don’t want you to be afraid to tell me about your latest dark fantasy, and to discuss the logistics of making that happen. And in turn I won’t be afraid to enable you to experience it, or modify to include my desire to be blindfolded. Or, perhaps, appreciate your confession, most likely revel in the fantasy and decline to bring it into reality.
And afterwards, let us talk about it. I imagine your fingertips stroking my back as I curl into your lap, but instead I’m playing with your hair as you stretch out and bury your head into my chest. I’ll tell you why I came so fucking hard when you gripped my arse with your hands. You tell me you enjoyed the noises I made when you shoved your cock in my mouth, as I was in the middle of a bratty protest. Perhaps you will thank me for allowing you to experiment with your limits as you spanked me for the first time, and I will thank you for stopping when you reached mine. Next time we could consider using my cuffs to restrain me, to free up your hands, I suggest. You delight in thinking of the possibilities that could entail.
So, I have the good biscuits in. I can rustle up a mean cup of tea in a few minutes.
Where shall we begin?
Instead of getting paid for writing this wonderful blog post, Hannah has asked that instead I donate the money to a charity of her choice. The Rock Trust works with young people aged 16-25 in Edinburgh and the Lothians who are homeless or at risk of being homeless. They advise, support and educate young people to build the personal skills and resources required to make a positive and healthy transition to adulthood, while avoiding or moving on from homelessness.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a freelance journalist, sex writer, and professional transsexual. His work focuses on dismantling shame and queering sex.