Sometimes the most intimate thing you can do is tell someone exactly how you want to be fucked. Not in some vague, romantic way. I’m talking graphic, specific instructions. The exact pressure of fingers digging into my hips, the precise angle that hits that spot deep in my cunt, the way I want to be told what a good girl I am taking every inch of cock while my mascara runs. It’s a vulnerability more terrifying than being naked. Letting someone see the raw, unfiltered blueprint of your pleasure is the ultimate test. They either follow it perfectly or prove they never really cared about your satisfaction in the first place. The psychology of a truly selfless lover is a rare fucking find.