I smiled at him in what I hoped was a sultry fashion as I slowly inched down the couch.
It was a Thursday afternoon and I was skipping school with my 16-year-old boyfriend. We were currently naked on his parent’s couch (#romantic) doing our usual genital DJing. This time, however, I wanted to do something different. After my slutty friend had told me that she almost had sex last week, I knew it was time to up my promiscuous game. And while I wasn’t quite ready to go *all the way* as a Judy Bloom novel would call it (that would come in the next few weeks), I still wanted to really blow his mind. Literally. I was ready to go to Oral Station and by God, I was going to make this unexcused absence worth it.
That day, on that couch, with that cliché, crew-rowing boyfriend, I gave my first blow job. After fumbling around, literally blowing on his penis for a few minutes (what? I was confused, okay?) and trying to figure out what to do with my hands, I finally got the hang of it and received a slimy, salty golden star.
And that was the start of my blow job giving days. That was the start for most of us. Maybe it was in the back of your boyfriend’s mom’s car, or the movie theater when you saw “The Bee Movie” for the sole purpose of making out in the back row (just me?). Whatever led you to the oral life, one thing is certain — for most of us, our lives changed. And it could have gone one of two ways. You either hated doing it and became a no-job girl or you realized the power of slobbing on a knob and saw some value in a blowy.
And I totally get it. The power you feel when a guy stares into your eyes with *that* look that says you can do no wrong and he totally doesn’t even notice that you have a little extra weight on your hips or that your hair keeps poking you in the eye. It’s when you get turned on by the fact that he’s so turned on by you. And the realization that in this moment, you are a MF-ing goddess in his eyes.
Yeah, that’s a pretty good fucking feeling. I’ll give you that.
So you take a few more trips down under. You start mixing things up a little bit. You use your hand. You realize he has balls and decide to do something with those. You vary the speed and you read Cosmo articles to get the perfect tips to “rock his world.” Hell, you even swallow. You’re young. You’re dumb. You’re trying to impress guys. You feel sexual and fun and every time you give a guy a happy ending, you can’t help but think: “blow jobs are totally my thing.”
And that’s super duper. Really. It’s great to feel comfortable in the bedroom and I’m sure every guy in the world talks about how you were the best blow job giver and blah blah blah. The thing is, it’s all total bullshit. And I hate to take this away from you, but blow jobs are not your thing. And before you start yelling at me with your sperm-filled mouth (so sorry for that unsettling visual), hear me out. And just remember: I’m doing this for your own good. Let me break it down.
We started giving blow jobs when we were in high school or early college because we either didn’t want to have sex with the guy yet or because it was something everyone else was doing. And since we were young and stupid, we did it. Because what, you’re going to tell a guy “no?” Psh. Not this 16-year-old with body issues, thank you very much. So we smiled before covering our teeth with our lips and sucked it up. Literally. And every time you got with a guy (or just the special ones) you’d be willing to go down on him because you wanted nothing more than to impress him. Sure, it sounds shitty when it’s put like that, but also doesn’t it sound sort of true? As the years went on, you kept the blow jay in your back pocket for when you really wanted to “wow” someone or really wanted something in return. Sure, money can’t buy you love, but blow jobs can, amiright? But eventually, you started wising up. You realized you didn’t *have* to do that and you stopped caring about not increasing your number. You cared more about making sure you got off and you stopped swallowing because what were you fucking thinking swallowing in the first place?
And while there’s nothing wrong with thinking, or being, really good at giving *gag* head, I just want you to know, it is not “your” thing. I know you think it is because hello? Have you seen the look in his eyes? And like, you can make him destroy your sheets in minutes flat. But so can his hand. And so can pretty much any other girl out there. Sorry. The point is, blow jobs can’t be your thing because blow jobs can’t be owned. They’re a mythical, majestic form of witchcraft girls use when they want their boyfriends to go to the farmers market. And no matter how good or bad you are at them, they’re still blow jobs, and guys will look at you with *that* look because your mouth is hovering inches from their penises.
No matter what you think, we all use blow jobs as our own secret weapon. And thinking it’s “your” thing will only put you behind in the fight for love and orgasms.
I’m not saying this to make you feel bad. I’m saying this to save you a lot of lock jaw and chances of contracting the herp. Blow jobs aren’t a secret move. So instead of spitting on someone’s penis in the hopes that he’ll fall in love with you — find a different move. Go buy some handcuffs, consider having a personality, or let him do something other than missionary. Save the blow jobs for what they were really meant for: birthdays, anniversaries, and getting your way when he says he won’t watch “The Notebook” again. Your TMJ can thank me later..
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