blowjob

Flashback a decade or so.

I lay on my back, unsure, insecure. She was really going to do it. Her tongue was flicking down my chest, over my stomach, leaving hot kisses all over me.

She was really going to do it. Ohmygod.

I wasn't sure what to do. It was happening.

Her mouth was on my cock. Wow. Interesting. Not as intense as I'd expected, but nice. She moved up and down on me, it got nicer. Wow.

I was silent, almost holding my breath. Suddenly I got worried.

Oh shit. What if I tasted bad? What if I wasn't clean enough? What if I smelled or tasted of pee? Oh god. But it felt good. But what if she didn't like it? She was probably just doing it because she felt she had to, thought it was what I wanted.

Oh shit, I think I'm going to come. Gross. I mustn't.

Hold back.

Keep quiet.

Don't say anything.

Don't come.

I'm too embarrassed to say how long it took me to realize how wrong I was. Embarrassed that I could be so foolish, to think women didn't enjoy going down on me in the exact same way and for the exact same reason I love to go down on them.

Those feminists who are still feeding young men and women bullshit about how blowjobs specifically or sex in general are degrading can ... go without. And, in the interest of gender equality, I sincerely hope their clits never get kissed.

Ever.

But to the lovely women who so enthusiastically showed me the truth: Thanks.