- Culture
- 10 Oct 06
There is something primal about blowjobs, where you can feel the tautness of the skin and taste the very essence of a man.
love giving blowjobs. Now, don’t get too excited – it’s not an open offer that everyone can avail of. My desire to give them rests on two particular things – first, and most importantly, the man attached to the penis and secondly my fascination with the penis itself.
Oral sex has always seemed to me to be the most intimate of sexual activities – it’s sex, in your face. Literally. My enthusiasm for it is directly related to my enthusiasm for the person with me. The more I like him, the more eager I am.
I once had a boyfriend who had no interest in being on the receiving end of oral sex. While he was happy to spend ages with his head between my legs, he didn’t want me to return the favour. He said no one had ever made him cum this way, and he wouldn’t even let me try. Weird, or what?
When I told my girlfriends, quite a number of them were jealous. For them, blowjobs were a necessary chore, in order to secure their own quota of oral sex. But the others understood. By restricting the pleasure I could give him, he undermined the give and take of sex.
GENDER DIFFERENCES
I love the way that blowjobs put me in charge of the sexual situation. Having another person’s pleasure totally in my control makes me feel sexy and powerful, and that’s a huge turn-on.
One of the reasons I love blowjobs is because I have always been fascinated by penises. Personally, I blame my brother. I know that’s sounds unusually perverse, but bear with me, it isn’t.
I was born into a family that was, but for the notable exception of my father, entirely female. With a mother and two sisters, and even a dog that was a bitch, I would have thought the whole world was anatomically similar, until the unexpected late arrival of a little bundle of joy named David.
I was seven when the little mewling, puking horror appeared – old enough to begin to question gender differences and develop a curiosity about them. When my mother returned from the hospital she spotted a learning opportunity and took it upon herself to explain to my sisters and me why this baby was somewhat different to the rest of us.
My mother called us in and unveiled what lay beneath the nappy. My sisters and I were fascinated. The baby itself was unremarkable – he was bald, noisy and demanding like most babies – but his little todger was quite a shock. It was just so…. weird.
The educational experience took a turn for the worse when David, a troublemaker from the start, decided to demonstrate just how different he was by behaving like a human water pistol. Perhaps he didn’t like being examined like a circus freak and he took his revenge. He peed in our faces, getting me squarely in the eye.
Advertisement
SEXUAL MORALITY
After that, the baby was regarded with a mix of awe and revulsion. He was part human, part whale. Having learnt the hard way, we kept a safe distance whenever my mother changed him – he was dangerous, you never knew when he might blow.
A while later I heard from a playmate, who had older brothers, that a boy’s ‘thingie’ was a sensitive spot and if kicked would result in tremendous pain. Luckily my brother is on the other side of the equator and not likely to read this, but the only male I have ever kicked in the ‘nads on purpose, is him. Sorry David, it was scientific curiosity.
I never did manage to make him cry though because, although I wanted to check the veracity of this claim, I was scared of hurting him – and only ever prodded him tentatively on the nappy with my big toe.
As I got older my curiosity did not abate. The year my parents moved us lock, stock and barrel to South Africa, I went to a co-ed school. I was a good student, a member of the choir and the sprinting champion, but six months later I got expelled. My crime? Getting caught playing I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours behind the bicycle sheds. When I think about it now I am flabbergasted. We were just curious kids, but the school had an extremely conservative Calvinist bent and such behaviour was not tolerated.
The next school I went to was a convent. The lack of boys meant my opportunities for field research were curtailed. Instead my parents bought me books. I was too young for the sexual morality discussion – that came later – so my parents stuck to the basic biological facts.
MUSKY SMELL
Theoretical research has its place, but as they say, nothing compares to the live experience. As I got older and began to accumulate sexual experience, my curiosity intensified. One of the things that truly intrigues me about the penis is how they are all different – like snowflakes, no two are exactly the same. And some are wonderfully different!
My enjoyment of blowjobs is a direct result of this fascination. To really get to know what a penis is like, you’ve got get up close. Taking my lover in my mouth has always seemed quite primal. You experience the taste of it, the tautness of the skin, can feel every ridge and drink in the sexy, musky smell of a man.
It’s the very essence of his sexuality up close. With a man whose pleasure is important to me, that’s pretty damn intoxicating.
Some people see the act of giving head as demeaning, submissive or just plain unpleasant. I couldn’t disagree more. To think this way you need to be suspicious about sexuality in general. Sex is only as beautiful or as coarse as your own feelings about it.
At first glance, my boyfriend Thomas might seem like an average kinda guy. What you couldn’t tell is that beneath his Calvin Klein’s he is the proud possessor of the most beautiful penis I have ever seen.
On a fairly regular basis I’ll choose to give him a blowjob instead of having sex. It satisfies me too, but in a different way, and he always makes it up to me by spending ages satisfying my sexual demands.
He thinks he’s the luckiest guy in the world; and me, well, I sure get a lot of flowers.