The Pup Article You Wanted. Third and Final.

I call him Pup. Because he is my Pup. Scott’s a moody, grumpy little Pug that makes me happy.

It’s been a month or so since the original Pup Interview. Of all the requests I get, the Pup story is the one that never stops. Follow-ups. DMs. Women asking if he is real. Even on my Substack Livestreams, I get superchats asking about Pup. It doesn’t matter who I guest up with, what topic it is, the money questions are always about him. Just even saying his name makes me a nice amount of money. I have stalled this article for a reason. It’s my third and final one about him, and I wanted it to be a good one. I still can’t name him openly, you’re going to have to just wonder I’m afraid. I promised not to reveal who he is publicly, we made a solid deal.

Oral sex is a treat and a novelty for us girls, most men do it for a few minutes, if we’re lucky. I know and you know, it shouldn’t be this way. Men would sooner lick an ice lolly longer than they lick us, and I don’t know about you, but it makes me quite resentful.

However, Pup is quite unique in these regards. Substack wouldn’t let me go all out, I could only hint at things. So in this article, I’m going to give you my full thesis, my findings, the play by play of what happened, and my conclusion. Hopefully it will answer all your questions, and I’ll answer the ones I get asked most. Settle in, it’s a long one.

If you want his book, you can download it free on this link. Here. Take it, give it to your fella, and he’ll learn some seriously good tricks. Trust me, if you want your guy reading your mind whilst he gives you oral, you need this book. If you use any of the details in the book, you didn’t get them from me because you’re supposed to be buying it. 😉

Going Back A Month

If you’re not in the know, I’ll catch you up real quick. It’s an easy story. I found him the way I find most things. By accident. A book popped up on Facebook. An erotic rom-com that claimed to be true. Set somewhere in Essex in 2010. A young woman and her friends were obsessed with an escort. Hours of oral sex and sex toy witchcraft. I bought it and couldn’t put it down. It’s rude as hell and banter and fighting between these girls is hilarious. Anyway, she tells of these amazing oral sex sessions that go on for hours. There isn’t many of these sessions in the book, but when they happen, they leave an impression. One of them lasting a full four chapters. So my reporter brain kicks in.

Is this real?

Can a man actually be like that?

Was he still alive?

I emailed the author, Amy Riley. I started digging.

Old review sites mostly. I put posts out Facebook. Local groups. However, the name in the book was wrong. Amy, had changed his name which was why I was coming up with nothing. His real name is *****. So, I went back and did it all again. The floodgates opened, suddenly, my posts were no longer being ignored, and now a group of ladies in the Essex area knew exactly who I was talking about. I had been at it for a few weeks at this point, but I was struggling to find proof. I had plenty of ex-clients come forward, but they didn’t have any evidence.

He didn’t advertise the way most escorts did, so the evidence was buried. It was all word of mouth (no pun intended). He is quiet about it. Selective. The women who find him usually find him through other women. A whisper. A number passed in a group chat. That is how the network works. It took me four weeks, a shitload of bribes, twenty or so very secretive ex clients… but I found him.

People have been talking about him for years. Quiet conversations in group chats. Old review sites that still get passed around. The guy who somehow became the thing women whisper about after two drinks. He was an urban legend. The man who could go for hours and never ask for anything back. Most legends stay legends. This one turned up in real life and it had teeth.

My plan was to interview him, find out what makes him move, why he focused on that skill particularly. I made a deal with him, three articles, it’s all I wanted, I’ll pay off any debt he had, quick, fast, easy. That was my plan. And it went south really quickly.

The Trap

I bribed someone that knew him and bought his phone number, contacted him, and it took some talking, but he eventually came around. So up until I met him, I had everything on paper. Ex-escort, near fifty years old, and he went back to a normal job, easy story. I said to him, yeah I want to try it, and there was some back and forth, I was basically luring him to get the interview, then I don’t know, I’ll say I had a headache or something, then make my exit. It was never my plan to go further than that. I just did and said what I had to do to get the story. I remember looking at the plan and thinking how really proud of myself I was, I had this nailed to the wall. Quick interview, money changes hands and we’re done. So the deal we made was this. I would get three articles, this being the third, and I will take six months off his debt.

He then sends me his secrecy contract. It’s a one way contract vow of silence for life. No matter what you do with him, what you talk about, it’s all locked up in his brain-vault and never shared with anyone. He’ll give it to anyone that asks, no matter what you’re history is. Guaranteed silence from that moment on. Honestly, I didn’t care, he can tell who he wants about me, I’m as liberal and as left wing as they get.  We’re both single, we weren’t breaking any laws. But I went with it.

When I met him, the moment I set on eyes on him, I was like, fuck. It was going to unravel real fast. The fact he was almost fifty was my protection. Old guys are not my thing. But I knew what this asshole was capable of, I had interviewed twenty women and I had heard twenty different versions of the exact same process, and adding all their orgasm counts together over every meet, we have an orgasm total in triple digits. But his age was my safety net. The problem was, this asshole doesn’t look anywhere near fifty. He has no ageing lines on his face, his hair complete with no recession, dark except for some grey in the stubble, all his own teeth, sparkling white, and the eyes, well, anyway, he looks a lot younger than he is. He’s no model, but he’s both manly and pretty in a strange way. He looks like he’s in his Forties or around there, give or take. So I was like, shit.

Saying that though, I still brought all the gear on his list, because I knew there was a very small possibility I would have weakness.

I ended up on my back that day. And again a few weeks later. And another after that. Yes, Emma gets professional of the year award. I know. I’m not going to lie, I’d still be doing it now if I hadn’t fucked it up. But that’s another story. Basically I got really frustrated and obsessive, bit drunk one night, and said something I shouldn’t have, because I’m a fucking plank. Yay ADHD! Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself.

What happened the first time?

That’s what you want to know. Well, we’d spent an hour or two just kissing. He’s a hypnotic kisser. I’m a bondage nut, so obviously it was one of the first things I had asked him.  He was like, sure, bring your gear and take a look at it, and in half hour I’m chained to the bed. In hindsight, given what he does, clamping my legs open like an all you can eat buffet and removing my ability to speak wasn’t the wisest move. It was, let’s just say, a lesson learned in the moment. Funny thing was, he believes even today I was at his mercy, but those straps had an emergency release on them. I could’ve unlocked those babies at anytime.

So with Pup, it’s all about theatrics. He knows how to create delicious tension. As soon as I was strapped down, you’d expect he would get to work. But no. He get’s off the bed and he stands at the foot of the bed, drinking from his bottle and he’s looking at the room service menu, and I can see he’s doing this deliberately. I’m already worked up from the kissing, and there’s this little part in me that’s just like, what the fuck?

It’s genius.

Residual Habit

In order to be able to do what he does, he has to break your ‘residual habit’. The now deleted interview went into this, so I’ll keep it short. Sex for most people has a formula and time bracket. I’m going to refer to his book for this, so I get it right. It’s Arousal by Action within Time. Simply put, when we get dirty, it’s a formula. Kissing, blowjob, pussy eating (2 mins), sex, he’s done. Blokes happy. You’re unsatisfied. That’s the bones to all sex with slight variation. It’s what your mind and body expects. Once turned on, you rush to the end.

Pup doesn’t do any of this.

He has to break that formula, otherwise your body rushes out all the orgasms it can and you’ll be knocked out in thirty minutes. When I brought up the idea of switching off, arousal dropping to the point of fuck this, let’s watch TV instead, he said, a man that knows what he’s doing can switch you back on. In short, he has to break the rush mentality, because you are going to be on that bed for hours. He only needs to keep you on simmer, then he’ll pull the boiling points as and when he thinks you deserve them.

He is ridiculously good at this, he can tease like an absolute monster. When I went in for the first kiss we ever had, he had my braids fisted and wouldn’t let me near him, and he controlled everything, his lips on my face, ears, just teasing me. Then he released me, turned and fucked off into the bathroom before even kissing me. I was so angry. I almost walked. But that’s him breaking the habit and formula you expect of him. And looking back, it works so well.

Back to it

Here’s an Audio snippet… SEX NOISE! HEADPHONE / PRIVACY WARNING!

So because I went in with my investigation head on, I’ve got loads of files. Lots of audio, photos, nothing porn-like, except maybe audio. But that’s nothing.

Remember, I’ve heard so much about this guy, I needed the evidence nobody else could get.

Context, you need the context: So I’m on my back, feet in the air and he’s got one arm holding my knees to my chest and I can’t break free. All my lunch is aimed straight up and in his face. I’m really exhausted and weak. This was like two hours in, so I’m crying here. He’s got his mouth on me and he’s got his fingers in me really deep and he’s proper rubbing in there, but alternating points randomly so I can’t get a grip of myself. He then starts sucking my clit. You’ll know when. I was punished for recording. I tried really hard to keep my shit together, but I lost it. If anything proves how good he is when down there, its this. 

Before you ask what the music is, I have no idea, it was piped through the Travel Lodge TV. He allows music which is really cool, because I’ve had men that don’t like it.  

It’s the first time I’ve ever heard myself and I’m like, Oh My God! I’m pretty certain I’m not normally this loud. Be warned guys, wait till you get home or put headphones in. The audio does it no justice when compared to what you feel. But you get the idea.

So I’m just staring at him. I can’t move and can’t speak. Then he turns, slides onto the bed he moved between my legs like he had all the time in the world. Blue eyes locked on me. No smile. No rush. Just that calm focus that makes your stomach drop and your thighs start shaking before he has even touched you. The ball gag was tight. Straps pulling my hair. My mouth stretched wide. Drool already running down my chin in warm lines I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t speak. I could only make those wet muffled sounds that made everything worse.

He lowered himself until his face was inches away. I felt the heat of his breath on my pussy. Slow. Steady. No contact. Just the promise of it.

I bucked my hips at him. I’m throwing my pussy at his face. He doesn’t react, he doesn’t laugh at me, he does nothing. He didn’t move. His fingers came up light as anything. He traced the very edges of me. No pressure. Just skimming the outer lips, inner thighs, and the whole pelvic area. Circling. Never pressing inside. Never giving me the hit on the spot I needed. I screamed behind the gag. It came out as a drooling shout. Spit ran down my chin and onto my chest. My whole body was on fire and he was barely touching me. He kept breathing on me. Hot waves. His fingers danced around my pussy. Brushing the hood of my clit without ever landing on it. Massaging the tense muscles of my inner thighs. Then sliding down to tickle that sensitive stretch of skin behind with the lightest possible touch.

I’m angry with myself now, because I knew he did this. I had interviewed twenty of his ex clients, read his book multiple times, and still, I was so frustrated and angry that I was coming apart.

I had never felt anything like it.

Desire and frustration mixed into something feral. I was screaming through the gag. Shouting. Pleading. Crying. All of it coming out as wet garbled noises. My head thrashed. Tears ran down my face. Drool soaked my neck. My hips jerked and bucked and still he gave me nothing. Minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Every time I thought he was finally going to lick me he pulled back just enough to keep me hanging. My pussy throbbed so hard it hurt. My clit was swollen and aching. My whole body shook.

I was begging. I was crying. I was a complete drooling mess. And he stayed completely calm. Please. Just once. Just do it. I will do anything. It came out as a wet frustrated sound and more drool.

He did not blink.

His breath kept fanning across me. His fingertips kept their maddening circles. Light strokes along my labia. Soft presses into my thighs. That light tickle that made my hips jerk violently. I was losing my mind. Tears of frustration mixed with the drool on my face. My wrists yanked against the restraints. My back arched and collapsed. I was so wet it was dripping onto the sheets and he still wouldn’t give me what I needed. I was getting really angry.

I had never been teased like this in my life.

My blood was boiling. I was screaming. Crying. Thrashing. A mess of need and rage and lust. Still he hovered. Still he breathed on me. Still his fingers teased everything except the one place I was dying for. My head fell back onto the pillow in defeat. Eyes fluttering to the ceiling. Vision blurry.

That was when his tongue hit me.

One long slow powerful stroke from my opening all the way up through my lips and over my clit.

I screamed. The sound was raw even through the gag. My back arched off the bed. Wrists yanked hard. Toes curled until they cramped. He didn’t stop. His tongue flicked my clit fast and precise. The sensation was so intense my vision went white for a second. I laughed through the gag. A hysterical drooling laugh because this was it. This was everything the rumours had promised. His mouth was perfect. Hot. Wet. Skilled beyond anything I had ever felt. Saliva washed over me in slick waves. Then his lips clamped around my clit and he sucked it into his mouth while his tongue rubbed hard from inside.

I screamed again. The room spun. His hands found my breasts. He played with both nipples in perfect time with his mouth. Rolling. Pinching. Tugging. Driving me higher.

I was lost. One hand slid back down. Two thick fingers rubbed around my entrance. Not just one part, he put pressure all around it, something I’ve never felt before. Teasing. Then they slid inside me smooth and confident. He hit my G-spot on the first stroke. I screamed so loud my throat hurt. He rubbed and sucked me like he had nowhere else to be. Fingers curling exactly right. Mouth working my clit without mercy.

The orgasm hit like a freight train after just a few minutes.

It started deep in my stomach. Built and built until it felt like something was going to break. Then it exploded. My back arched so hard I heard my joints crack. Toes curled until my calves cramped. Tears poured. My pussy clamped and pulsed around his fingers in powerful spasms.

It didn’t stop.

Wave after wave. Each one harder than the last. Hips jerking. Thighs shaking. Vision blurring. Every muscle tightening and releasing. I felt like I was exploding from the inside out. Pussy gushing. Nipples burning. Body convulsing so hard the bed creaked.

I lost count. I lost time. I lost everything except his mouth and his fingers drawing every last drop out of me. My screams turned into broken sobbing moans. Drool ran freely. Tears streamed. My back stayed arched. My body locked in one long shudder that refused to let go. It felt endless. It felt like I was coming apart and being put back together at the same time. Finally the waves eased. My body went limp muscle by muscle. Head collapsed into the pillow. Room spinning. Chest heaving. Drool and tears everywhere. Pussy still fluttering with aftershocks.

Pup released me.

He backed away while the last tremors rolled through. I went completely limp. Then he was back. Breath washing over my oversensitive pussy. Steady. Calm. Keeping me from flying apart. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I could only lie there wrecked and smiling behind the gag knowing one thing. Everything they said about him was true. He did not give me long to recover.

He unlocks my feet and puts me on my knees. I’m just going with it, I’m fucking defeated at this point. I’m like, man, you’re the pro, just do it. I was defeated. Face in the pillow. Ass high. Wrists locked above my head. Gag still stretching my jaw. Drool soaking the pillow. Skin glistening with oil.

My pussy was still throbbing from the first round but the hunger had only got worse. Pup knelt behind me. I felt the heat of him. The weight of his eyes on me. He nudged the thick head of the dildo against my entrance.

I whimpered.

He slid it up and down my slick lips. Slow. Deliberate. The smallest fraction of the tip pressed in. Then he pulled it away. Again. And again. My pussy was burning. Every time the dildo touched me I moaned and tried to take more. He kept it shallow. Never more than the tip. I was like, fucking really?! We doing this again? But, this was the way he does it, he drags it out so fucking slow that it’s actually torturous. Every so often he poured more oil over my back and ass. Warm liquid running over my clit. Then he would rub me with his fingers or the head of the toy. Slow light circles. Never enough.

The torment was precise.

I loved it as much as I hated it. I screamed at him through the gag. Wet furious shouts. Spit flying. Head thrashing. Every time I tried to lift up or pull away his hand pushed my face back into the pillow. I knew something was coming because he wraps my braids around his fist and used them like reins. If you ever go against one of these guys, braids is the way, because the control he has over you is pure submission, it’s fucking amazing.

Five minutes. Ten. Longer.

I was losing my mind. My pussy felt like it was on fire. Swollen. Dripping. Clenching around nothing. Clit so sensitive the lightest brush made me jerk and cry out. Thighs shaking. Oil and my own cum mixed into a slick mess down my legs. I had never felt so hungry. I had never felt so tamed. And I had never loved being powerless this much. I was, for the first time in my life, selfish in bed, and I was allowed to be. It was all about me, and it was something crazy. Every denial broke something. I had written so many threads about women not having to beg. About respect. About submission being dangerous. And here I was tied up, gagged, ass in the air like a dog in heat, sobbing because a man was expertly refusing me the one thing I needed.

And I was addicted to it. Addicted to the wait. Addicted to feeling owned. My sobs got louder. Tears soaked the pillow. Body shaking. Pussy clutching so hard it almost hurt.

I gave up. I went limp. The second I surrendered the dildo slid into me in one smooth thrust all the way to the hilt. I screamed. The depth was so precise and so perfect, like he knew my limit, with a few added fractions just to spoil me.

Raw. Muffled. Relief and pleasure crashing together. My legs tightened. Toes spreading. Ass pushing back to take every inch. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He fucked me hard. Fast. Deep. Relentless. The wet sounds filled the room. My pussy was so wet every thrust made a filthy noise. Orgasms started stacking immediately. The first one hit almost at once. Pussy clamping down. Back arching. Screaming through the gag as waves crashed over me.

Then the second. Stronger.

Then the third.

They kept coming. Overlapping. I couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began. Drool pouring. Eyes rolling. Whole body shaking.

Every thrust dragged across my G-spot. The thick head stretched me on the way out and filled me completely on the way in. The speed was almost brutal but so controlled it never tipped into pain. Only pleasure so intense it rewired me. Then I felt the plug press against my ass. It popped in. The fullness in both holes changed everything. Pressure on my G-spot plus the stretch behind sent me into another screaming fit.

He pulled my braids and forced me up onto my hands and knees. He didn’t slow down. Or tire. He was fucking me so fast I had never felt friction so wild. There was literally the smallest fractions between the hits on on my cervix, and then I felt the rising. It was different, something I had never felt before. I tried to crawl forward at one point. Too much. Body short-circuiting. His fist tightened in my hair and held me in place. His mouth appearing beside my face so I could kiss him, it was the high intensity I had always wanted, always wondered about. His mouth would disappear, reappearing at my pussy, no pattern, no time to adjust, just wild fucking shit just happening to me.

He kept going. Then the biggest orgasm of my life hit. It was devastating. I squirted for the first time in my life, soaking him, the bed, everything. I didn’t get time to be embarrassed or shocked, he didn’t react, he just kept going. My whole body seized. Vision white. A raw scream tore out of me around the gag. Pussy clamped so hard around the dildo it felt like it was trying to pull it deeper. Ass clenched around the plug. Back arched so violently I thought something would snap. Legs shaking. Tears in rivers. Screams turning into broken wails.

It would not stop.

Wave after wave. Each one stronger.

I broke free. Arms waving. Feet kicking. I scrambled forward and dragged the duvet off the bed with me. I tumbled onto the floor clutching the pile of quilt to my stomach like it was the only thing keeping me from flying apart. Squirming. Shaking. The orgasm still ripping through me.

Pup did nothing.

He sat on the edge of the bed holding the dildo with a curious look. Then he set it aside. He just watched me. Calm. No ego. No triumph. Just waiting while I shook and sobbed and fought to come back to myself on the carpet. I lay there for long minutes. Trembling. Gasping. Aftershocks still rolling through in smaller waves. When my vision cleared I looked up at him sitting there quietly. Waiting for me to get my shit together.

The one man worthy of applause never once asked for it. I was wrecked. Completely wrecked. And I had never felt more alive.

That was probably two hours, from eight. Then imagine another two sessions on that. He rewired me in a way that wasn’t natural. I saw and realised why all these women talked about him like he was something unique. That’s the impression you get from them all. I spoke to twenty. Although I couldn’t confirm any with him, they each told me things that only a client would know. And I believed them.

That was how it went the first time. And admittedly I could’ve handled it better. But when I went back, my residual habit was broken. I was more relaxed, and as a result, it was much better. I didn’t worry about time, I didn’t care that he wasn’t getting anything from me, I was being pure selfish, and I’ll be honest with you, it feels so good.

So I’ve had many livestreams since all this, and I’ve put together all the questions I’ve been asked more than just a few times. Some of these I don’t have an answer for and I’ve speculated. If it’s speculation, I will state that it is. I can only tell you what I know.

Q&A The Top 30 Questions

1. Did you find him attractive or was it just a skills thing?

Of course. This is a common question and the most annoying. So it gets top spot. I’m not big on one-night stands, and where I understand where you’re coming from, it’s quite offensive, because I won’t get eaten out by anyone. It’s a massively personal thing to me and many women. Of course I found him attractive, he’s a handsome bugger, especially for his age. He could pass as late 30’s or early 40’s, easily. But that’s my opinion. That’s the women’s sweet spot. A young looking man with the complexity, moodiness and experience of a grandad. I was on the back foot the moment we met. And once he’s done his thing to you, that magnifies times hundred.  So yes, I did, and still do find him very attractive. You guys may have other opinions, and that’s allowed.

2. How much does he charge ?

Nothing, he’s retired. But you will need to up your game to get one from him. Remember, you want everything from him, he wants nothing from you. It all comes down to single question.

3. What is his secret question?

This one’s a doozie. He’s met me and my friend Lisa, but there were those he turned down. He didn’t tell me why, but both me and Lisa have degrees in psychology and we think we have it worked out. He’ll ask you a question:

How many men have you slept with?

This a trick question. With Pup, everything you know and are used to is opposites. When a guy asks us this, annoyingly, we low-ball it. We get our body count, and we half it. With him, you double it, and again. Don’t go into ridiculous amounts, but you want double figures. Lisa has only ever slept with two guys, so she had to do some serious math gymnastics and she paid for it, he broke her in every direction. I said 35, Lisa said 25, in her case, obvious lies. My other friends told the truth. And he refused. He’s not looking to marry you, he’s not after a girlfriend. He wants to make sure you’re not going to have a stroke or something. He wants you to be able to keep up.

4. Is the eight-hour thing a must?

No, I’ve interviewed women that crashed after an hour. Between six and eight hours is the longest you’ll last before shit starts aching. I’ve seen articles saying people have lasted longer, but there’s no real evidence of this other than women gloating.

5. Why only once a month?

I don’t know the answer to this one. I can only surmise. It could be that maybe it breaks the illusion, too often you end up getting used to it. Or maybe he just don’t want to. The jury is out on this one. If he’s seeing and servicing a few people, it’s going to quite exhausting doing it every day.

6. What is the contract you mentioned? Do I have to take it?

It’s a legal document that keeps his exploits with you silent. You’re free to tell anyone, he will tell nobody. This includes all communication, text, emails, everything. Even if you’re friends. Your social history means nothing, you could way back. This contract, according to how it reads, covers you the moment you ask for it, before it even has your name on it and handed to you. We can go into the debate on a livestream whether a man denying he’s ever licked your pussy is a good thing or not, but at the end of the day, that’s not an argument that belongs to us. Now he’s retired and there’s no transactional elements, I would say it’s pointless. It’s just the way he does things. As for taking it. I see mine as a trophy, like a brochure when you go to the theatre. It’s proof you did the thing and survived.

7. Do I have to sign anything? Does the contract make a meeting definite?

No and no. When you ask for the contract, your first message to him, it only means the fact you even enquired is secret. So if a woman is married or in a relationship, you’re good to go without any concerns.

8. Does he have a girlfriend or wife?

He says he hasn’t, and I’ve seen no evidence of anything on his social media, and I’m confident that he hasn’t. I’m asked this a lot, and I don’t why I’m asked this. If you’re looking to marry this guy, that would be sexually exhausting. I don’t see any reality where that would be a good thing. You’ll get the full package most likely, but I think that will break the illusion for me. The “what must that be like?” mystery, works really well unanswered in this one case. He say’s “he aint all that in that area“, which is hilarious.

9. What happened with his ex-wife?

I’m asked this a lot. I don’t know, I have ever asked him. And it’s none of my business.

10. Does he have any fetishes or kinks?

I understand this question, anything we can use to break him back, right?. The truth is, I don’t know, and I only met him three times. If he has, then he’s hidden them very well, because I’m good at picking up on stuff like that. If he had one, I would know about it.

11. What is the “Shopping List”?

The shopping list are the things you bring with you. It’s a few sex toys that he recommends for you personally. You’ll most likely own these. And no, I’m not telling you what mine were. I told you about my bondage gear, that’s a very me thing. Part of the fun is the finding out what he thinks you need. And with both me and Lisa, he nailed it.

12. Does he do anal?

Anal stimulation yes. And he’s good at it. An ass orgasm is fucking phenomenal. But you’ll have to tell him when talking to him in the primary phase. He won’t just plug you uninvited.

13. How do I find him?

No comment. I can’t name him here, email me I’ll show you the best place to look. I have to keep my side of the bargain, not out in the open, as annoying as it is for all of you.

14. Is he rough or gentle?

He’s a sexual chameleon. His style adapts to who is dealing with. Me and Lisa are opposites, best friends. She likes the slow, gentle love approach. I’m the opposite, I like high energy, rough, I love being manhandled, tied up and abused. No painful stuff, but if you’re going to fuck me, do it like you own me. He broke us both with two very completely different approaches. Put simply, you get it how you like it. That’s why you need to be honest with him. If you’re not getting what you like, it’s not going to fun.

15. Can you book him for two people?

Common question. I don’t know. Why would you want to share anything?

16. Can I have just the oral and not the Thumper or vice versa?

I’ve had this question on livestreams. I’m sure you can if you ask, but why? First time I’ve ever squirted, just saying. The things he does are honed dishes, and complement each other. Both, are absolutely blinding experiences. But I’m sure if you ask him, he can adjust his routine.

17. How do I dress? What does he like?

Another common question, and a typically beautiful women-centric question, I love it. He’ll say, you don’t need to impress me, just come comfortable. But this doesn’t work for us, right girls? We want to look our best. You will find he’s going to chuck you in the shower anyway, maybe. But you’re going to get that first impression hit to impress. The second time, I was comfortable, but it was controlled comfortable. Go in however you want. Whatever makes you feel good.

18. Who kisses first? How  does it start?

He’ll tell you straight, you kiss him first. That’s the green light. He will stay out of your space until you make the move. If you don’t, what are you even doing there? Once you go in, he is going to tease you brutally, and make you work for it. Once you get on the roller coaster, and guard rail comes down, you’re own body won’t let you get off. There’s no such thing as time for him. When you enter his space, prepare yourself for a long run.

19. Can I stop him at any time?

Yes! I asked him whilst kissing him, a cheeky little question in the heat of the moment. Don’t I get a safe word? He looks at me, smiles, and says, “Stop, usually does the trick!”. I felt a bit stupid, but it was nice to know. I stopped him once. When I fell off the bed and clutched the quilt to my stomach, that was a stop moment. And he did. I have no complaints at all.

20. Can you ‘fuck’ his face?

I totally understand this question, and I hate that men ALWAYS back away or even stop when we do this. It’s not something we can control. Whereas men see this as an act of taking the piss, he sees it as a need for more pressure, and he will indulge you. Words don’t do it justice. When I say he get’s right in there, I’m not exaggerating. I don’t know how he breathes down there, but he does, somehow. His face and mouth are your sex toys, you treat them as such. You go all in, he loves it.

21. What positions does he do?

Yes! He does them all. He’ll hold you down, clamp you thighs, put legs in the air, eat you from behind, he’ll do it all to you, it doesn’t get boring. Just go with it, he knows what he’s doing. Word of advice: if he wraps his arms around your upper thighs, and locks you in place, brace yourself. It means he’s going to do something, and he doesn’t want you getting away. He doesn’t do it very often, but when he does, it’s a special event. That’s all I’m saying. It’s the woman’s version of receiving deep-throat. 😉

22. How wet do you actually get? Does it get messy?

Are we talking his saliva or girly-milk? Very, on both counts. You may squirt a lot too. If you’re worried about getting wet, this guy isn’t for you. Which leads us to…

23. Does he mind if I squirt?

Strange question? But I do get it a lot. I always thought I couldn’t. I did the first time, but not the second. If you squirt while he’s down here, he doesn’t care. At least, he doesn’t react to it. If you do squirt, then good for you. It’s a really great feeling.

25. What if I get too loud?

And yes, you will.

26. Can I have a break without him stopping completely?

Yes, when I say eight hours, I don’t mean literally. Just ask for a minute to get your shit together, or ask for a cuddle, he won’t judge you for it, in fact it’s better you do. I never needed a toilet break, you’re bladder will empty on it’s own. If you’re squirting a lot, you’re not going to need the toilet very often. Obviously, don’t just piss on him, I’m sure he’ll know the difference.

27. What is the one thing he does with his tongue that no other man has done?

Difficult question. I would say all of it. But this isn’t sex, or hook up. It’s just a different animal.

28. What’s the aftercare like?

I’ve had this question a lot. I don’t know what this means. After I tapped out, we did what normally happens. We cuddled and I fell asleep for a few hours. I woke up, he was asleep, I made some notes. When he woke up, I made him give me another cheeky orgasm for the road. We met again another time. What is this aftercare you talk about? What is it you want? This is a baffling question to me. Put it in the comments, what you expect. If you’re asking if he just fucked off after he was done, then no. He didn’t with Lisa either. Lisa said he was lovely, they just laid in bed chatting for hours just cuddling, she enjoyed that just as much. She is bit of a melt though. A hopeless romantic.

29. Does it ruin your sex life?

I’ve heard this, and it’s untested. I’ll go further, it’s probably part of the urban legend. I’ve not been with another guy since Pup. I kissed a guy in a club while in the states and it felt a bit flat. Pup is an amazing kisser. But he has all the time in the world and epic control, most men don’t. It’s unfair to compare men to him. Ask me once I get laid and I might feel differently. I will say that I haven’t had a particular good fuck that’s ruined my sex life, so I don’t see this as a potential problem. Will oral sex be the same? Yeah, I think that could be a problem. It was always a problem before Pup, so I doubt it feel better or worse.

30. Can I text between sessions

Yes. On a personal level Pup is good like that. He’ll never text you uninvited, and he does talk about other things. He’s a normal guy that does normal things. He’s not a robot. We disagree on near everything, and he’s not scared of putting me in my place. He’s not clingy and desperate like guys normally are. He’ll treat you like a mate, talk to you like one, and whether you hit him up again is on you, and obviously if he wants to. It’s another odd question I get I don’t really have an answer for. He’s a guy, not a god. Text him, if he replies, go from there. I don’t know what it is you expect.

31. Bonus Question: Where does this take place?

He only ever does hotels. I don’t know why. I would guess it’s a common ground thing. He has hinted that he’s had to deal with psycho ex boyfriends, husbands, and that sort of thing. But he’s huge, I shouldn’t imagine men being a problem. I would say it’s a common ground thing, if anything. In a hotel is much better anyway. The mess created is biblical.

Conclusion

---

It never felt like sex. It never felt like a hookup. There was no moment where I clocked that I was being used or that the real point was someone getting themselves off inside me and then rolling over. He was not taking. He was giving, and he kept giving long after most men would have decided they had done their bit. Hours of it. My body was the whole event. I did not leave feeling fucked. I left feeling looked after in a way I did not have language for until I was lying there afterwards unable to move properly. No performance required from me. No pressure in anything. Just a man who stayed exactly where he was until I had nothing left.

That is the only word that has ever fitted. Worship. Not the soft, candlelit version. The focused, on-his-knees, I-am-not-stopping version that treats your pleasure like it is the only job in the room. I have spent years writing about women being used as the warm-up act for a man’s orgasm. This was the opposite. He made me feel like the entire reason he was there. Every time I thought he would ease off he went again. Every time I thought I was done he showed me I was not. I keep coming back to that word because nothing else covers the difference. It did not feel like sex. It felt like being worshipped. And once you have felt that, the ordinary version is very hard to go back to.

If you want my advice: Download the book or buy it, hand it to your fella. He’s sharing all his experience for a reason, use it. It can only improve your sex life if used correctly.

If you want to contact me regarding this article or any other, commission me, or anything else. I may even give you a breadcrumb trail to follow. Use the form below.

← Back

Thank you for your response. ✨

Name(required)

Email(required)

Website

Message

Submit

Δ