Bedroom Blunder #54: Velociraptor Snatch Attack
By Sandra Daugherty on July 22, 2010
There is something wholly intimidating about some guy’s face up against my girl parts. This should not be the case, but it is. This becomes the case when one is subjected to one of the deadliest mood killers known to the human race: The Velociraptor Snatch Attack.
VSA, as the acronym goes, is the repeated act of orally or manually pleasuring a partner (usually female) in such a way that causes the receiver’s pelvis to scoot away in retreat, seeking asylum from the over-zealous onslaught.
If done properly, VSA should feel like one’s naughty bits are being hunted by a highly-intelligent voracious fictional dinosaur. This can be rather distressing.
For instance, during an enthusiastic bout of licks, a female may start scrunching her body away from her giver, tilting her pelvis so that her goods are farther away than is reachable.
Her lover then proceeds to either:
A) Army crawl toward her and bury their face deeper into the target, licking with renewed fervor.
B) Gently massage her outer labia and ask, “want me to go lighter?”
Which one exemplifies VSA? Did I hear Lover A? You are correct.
Now, who gets a second date? You guessed it: Lover B!
So, this “scooch” is the natural counterbalance to the Velociraptor Snatch Attack. It is the act of fleeing away from the perceived threat of discomfort.
At first, The Scooch is accompanied by words, such as: “owe!” “please be gentle” and “honey, seriously, I don’t like that.” If the same behavior resurfaces time and time again, the receiver often retreats entirely.
Thus, communication during the activity turns to avoidance OF the activity itself.
The most fascinating part of VSA is its ability to resurface. Sure, on the first offense a partner will heed those requests. But one week later, there it comes, leaping out of the shrubbery to attack.
So what have I learned from years of VSA? Speak up. Don’t give up. And if all else fails, curl up into a little ball and cry. That usually hits the point home.
Sigh. It’s fun to be hunted, but not to be mauled.
*Special thanks to my friend John, for without his Jurassic Park reference, this post could not be possible.