FELLATIO (and my current predicament)
So I have a bit of an issue with Blow Jobs.
It stems from a perfectly legitimate place, I promise.
I used to really enjoy it. I still maintain that I give a fairly decent BJ and I aim to be pretty intuitive to what guys enjoy.
Anyway, when I was around 17 I just started seeing this guy who seemed really gorgeous. He was slightly introverted, attractive (but blissfully unaware) and most of all he seemed to like me.
One problem - his emotional and sexual immaturity led to a pretty extensive thrashing of my needs in the bedroom over the next two years. As a girl, in her first real relationship, I laboured under the impression that the female orgasm was a myth and guys could get away with acting like porn was an extension of real life.
So my disdain for the blow job stems from a seemingly naiive and low place.
You told me that you didn’t want to see me, yet you still continued to play with my mind and make me feel otherwise - with no concrete way of sustaining my arguement. You came around and we made out and as usual you got off and I just got lock-jaw.
I was vulnerable, lacking in self-confidence with the slightest glimmer of hope that someone found me attractive - enough so to feel like pleasing you sexually was the only way to keep you around. You did nothing to quell this insanity.
We were in my bedroom on the lounge, I pinned you against the wall and kissed your lips - which slowly carried down to your neck, your chest, your stomach - all whilst unzipping your pants, sliding my hand down underneath underwear. I pulled your pants down just bellow your ass and made my way down your body to use my tongue on the tip of your cock. You seemed to like it so I kept going. I started using my mouth, moving up and down - deepthroating every now and then.
After a while I could tell that you were getting close, so I lifted my head up and asked for you to tell me when you were getting close and I wasn’t ready to swallow (and you thought because I had done it in the past it was now the benchmark, the expectation)
The next thing I knew you were cumming in my mouth. What the fuck is with that?
I felt so disrespected. It is not your right to do that and I thought I had made it pretty clear that I was uncomfortable doing it in this particular circumstance?
To make it worse - you didn’t apologise, you just furrowed your brow and asked me to go and get you a towel so that you could wipe yourself off. I wish I spat it at you, thats how enraged it made me - still makes me, three years later.
You wondered why I wouldn’t go down on you for more than a couple of minutes for the next two years without gagging my way through it. Its classic conditioning and I didn’t trust you in that circumstance.
(But I must make it known, that despite this cunt-ish act, we were both very much in love. I can forgive.)
It took me quite some time to rebuild from this. I don’t understand why I took it so badly? I just think that I felt betrayed and disrespected for the sake of him claiming it merely felt a bit better when I came in my mouth (truth be told, you just preferred to cum in my mouth/on me because it was less mess for you) - you put your sexual needs before me.
After we ended I started seeing someone else, I put it behind me and made an effort to forget about it and stop associating it with betrayal. It took me a year and a half for me to even be able to let my new boyfriend cum in my mouth, not even swallow. He knew it was a massive hang up for me. He respected that and there was never a request, let alone pressure to comply.
We lived together for a year, but I had to move back home (1000kms away) to attend uni - which in the long run was a more responsible decision. I felt horrible, I missed him every second of every day. I was consumed by so much confusion - because I was torn by wanting him around but knowing that we shouldn’t trap ourselves in a relationship that could not physically (in any way) manifest. He came to visit me and I set aside everything to over-compensate as product of guilt for not being able to please him whilst we were apart.
I made such an effort to show him that I was still just as sexy and in love with him.
I led him to the bathroom and locked the door, we undressed and went to the shower. I kissed him all over, we were fooling around with body wash and it was then that I noticed him getting a little hard, so I pinned him against the wall and gave him an intense blow job and finally build myself up to swallow, he came harder than I had ever seen and that was enough for me to know my disliking for the taste was totally overshadowed by his sheer satisfaction.
Days later, after a teary goodbye he went back home and I sat in the airport lounge alone crying and missing him more than ever. I felt like we were so much closer.
The following day I spoke to him on the phone, he seemed nervous. I questioned him and he revealed that he had been cheating on me.
He was cheating on me.
I just felt like dog-shit. I felt like everything we felt was a fucking sham. I wanted to slap him for disrespecting me, for disrespecting us and what we had. I cried, he cried and I felt like a fucking moron for making such a big deal about ensuring I put out enough to keep him satisfied whilst we were apart - when he was fucking someone else the whole time.
I don’t know if this will just make a cynic out of me. But I want to enjoy giving head.
