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One. Two. Three. Your hand does not get its own rhythm. It gets her numbers. This is Follow Every Count Part 1. A mean little British brat with a soft, slow voice who turns your cock into a metronome. Stroke on the count. Stop off the count. Miss a number and start over. No guessing. No speeding because you got greedy. First counting drill. She catches the sloppy extras. The panic when you lose the number. Hands off. Look at it twitch. Begin again. No girl texts you first. No one stays. People forget you the second you leave the room. Even the people closest to you see the quiet disappointment. That is why counting works on you. A forgotten boy likes being told what to do with his own fist. Slow counts. Then tighter counts. Hold when she parks you on the edge. Do not drop over. The number is not "finish." She makes you say it between counts: "I am forgettable." "I am a disappointment." "No one chooses me." "This brat owns my cock." Part 1 is the alphabet. Part 2 is faster counts and trick counts. Tonight you learn to follow. You do not get to cum. Press play. Count with her. Stroke only on the number. Stay denied. Stay owned.