Can't We Just Skip to the Good Stuff?

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Some time back, I wrote about men and the recent trend of boasting about their cunnilingus skills. I made mention that I was not a big fan of the act myself and could go without it. I've also mentioned on several occasions my love of the blowjob.

My biggest complaint is that whenever I talk about not being a fan of getting eaten out, there are always men lining up to claim "Well, you've just never had ME!" Yeah, I haven't. But I also don't think that it will really be any different with you, so shut up.

I'm a infamous NC-17 text message sender. Last week, after sending one out, I got the response, that while my proclamations of excellent oral delivery were nice, it wasn't something that he could "pop" from. I started to throw out my "100% success rate" claim, but later thought to myself… why am I not giving him the same consideration that I expect of men?

It's not that I absolutely CANNOT have an orgasm from oral. It's been known to happen. But it's rare and it's not my preferred method of receiving. I'd much rather have some deep dicking along with the climax. It's like having ice cream to go along with your birthday cake: a total plus.

The very first time that a guy offered to go down on me, my first instinct was utter revulsion. "Why the fuck do you want to do that?" I asked, incredulous. The mere concept of having my boyfriend stick his head between my legs made me shudder in disgust. Never mind the fact that I'd been sticking my head between his legs for a couple of months already.

"It'll feel good," he smiled. Brandon, the first love of my life, was a patient and sweet bastard. A 6'4" guitarist built like Tommy Lee with fingers that… *sigh*. Guitarist fingers. The girls know what I'm talking about.

He moved down and pried my bent knees apart. "Relax, Zara," he coaxed. He kissed the insides of my legs, gradually working his way up from my knees to my pussy. The first tentative lick delivered landed clamped legs around his head.

"Stop it. Just stop it. It's gross. Get your tongue out of there," I whined.

His voice was muffled in return, forcing me to open my legs to hear him. He was arguing that I needed to give it time. "Give me 5 minutes. Just 5 minutes. If you still don't like it, I'll stop."

I sighed deeply and nodded a weak consent. He was slow and cautious, lightly lapping. I don't know how much he even knew about what he was doing. I was 14 and he was 15. What do any of us know at that age, aside from the glimpses we've snuck of some older influence's porn?

(Sadly, it suddenly dawned on me that the generations after mine know so much more than I did. What's the low age now? 12?)

I stayed very still, feeling my body press deeper and deeper into his mattress. The room was dim, the curtains pulled to keep out the afternoon light. It was in that hour after school (man, they really warn parents about that time, don't they? And for good reason!) and we were on our normal time-limit. My heart was racing, but to this day, I couldn't tell you if it was because I was enjoying myself or worried about my ride showing up suddenly.

After the approximate 5 minutes, he raised his head and asked me if I was OK. I didn't know one way or the other if what he was doing was working, so I muttered that it was "Alright" and told him he could keep going if he wanted to. When he started again, I was relaxed a little more and it felt better.

Then panic gripped me again. The idea of having an orgasm against his face was mortifying! I rapped my knuckles on the top of his head and started panting, "Can we fuck now? Stop. Stop. Stop. Let's just fuck."

His expression was bathed in confusion, but he slowly rose up, went to his drawer for a condom, and we finished as we had been for the prior month. As he was lying next to me, shortly afterward, he sighed deeply.

"I really want you to enjoy this too, you know," he commented. "I feel bad that it's always all about me."

How fucking progressive Brandon was. At 14, I had no clue just how nice this attitude was. There were times when I would wish that he acted more the hardass that his musician demeanor was supposed to convey and not be such a sentimental pussy. I was young. I was stupid. Hindsight is always 20/20.

It wasn't until I was 19 that I had my first orgasm from receiving oral sex. I was stoned out of my gourd and unable to fight off my boyfriend's insistence. He laughed proudly after the fact, watching me pant and giggle. I actually spent the next 3 years pretty much smashed every time I had sex.

For someone that most people assume has always been a big freak, I was actually uptight for many years. Experimentation does not mean that you have low inhibitions. It just meant I was curious and followed that where it took me. At my heart of hearts, if I am a freak, it is of the Control variety.

Allowing someone to please you orally means that you give yourself over to them. It's the main reason why I love giving blowjobs so much and the exact same reason why receiving cunnilingus has never greatly appealed to me.

There are people who think that I need to "get over" this and allow myself to be more vulnerable, but I always ask why. I know what I like, I know what works and I will go after that in order to receive pleasure, so why do I need to change my preferences? Why do I need to suddenly be into receiving oral, just because that's the current trend?

Can't we just fuck? Stop. Please. Can't we just fuck?

Discussion of the Day:

What was your first thought when you received oral? Guys or girls, it doesn't matter. What are your thoughts on the popularity of oral?

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