How I Learned to Love Getting Oral Sex

I’ve suffered my whole sexually active life under the imploring words of other women, “But it’s so good, Kat, so, so very good!”

Aug 7, 2012 at 4:35pm | Leave a comment

Here's the only secret: You have to date a guy who loves giving head.

I don’t mean “likes.” Every guy “likes” giving head. I mean what straight man wouldn’t be stoked to the eyeballs to see a naked vagina, let alone put his mouth over one? What I’m talking about is different. You want to find a man who eats pussy like it’s the last pussy he’ll ever eat; it’s that desperate and that necessary.

This is coming from a woman who, in 27 years (or OK, maybe the past 11 or so years since I’ve actually been getting some), has never enjoyed receiving oral sex. I can hear your indignant eyeballs popping as you read this. I’ve suffered my whole sexually active life under the imploring words of other women, “But it’s so good, Kat, so, so very good!”

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Well lucky bitches, all of you, to have experienced the joys of being with a man who loves giving head, because until recently, I never understood the difference.

Every man I’ve ever been with, from casual flings to the Love Of My Life have done the pussy eating thing in that awkward, mechanical way, like there’s some mysterious code to, in the words of Lil Wayne, “turn her pussy to a fucking fire hydrant.” It’s like "American Pie" or porn or whatever dumb locker room bullshit guys talk about has influenced technique almost universally, and it’s done us absolutely no good at all.

Lick, suck, poke, repeat; this is not a recipe for anything, let alone a female orgasm.

So there I was, just living my life, completely unaware of the joys of oral sex. Imagine that; little old me, hanging about, doing the laundry, eating Salt & Vinegar chips in front of the TV, paying the bills, just like that, all the while thinking there’s not much fuss to be made about oral sex.

And upon finding myself with a man wedged between my legs, thinking, "Son, if I wanted to scratch that vaginal itch I’d do it myself."

That was until I met a scrumptious young bartender whom I met by writing my number on a tip (yes, haha, I paid him to call me, very funny). He took me out once or twice, but it wasn’t until he had his head buried between my legs that I knew I wanted to marry him. Just joking, this story is totally not romantic like that.

Now, this man, bless his cotton socks, would bury his face right in there; I mean, he’d go in completely fearless, disappearing up to his lovely eyelashes in the depths of my va-jay-jay. And whatever he was doing, it wasn’t like anything I’d ever experienced before. There was no formula, nor was there any reservation. It was wildly impassioned, messy and consuming, and every time would leave me breathless, knees shaking like I needed a sugar fix.

I’ve never been afraid of my vagina -- period sex, sweaty smelly sex, four-months-of-pubic-hair-growth sex -- I’ve never seen shame in a single part of it. But I suppose there’s still some hesitation amongst men, some innate fear of the vagina that leads them to tickle gently with the tip of their tongue, leave their noses out of it and stop to wipe their mouth off every minute or so. Or maybe my initial hypothesis was wrong and guys, generally, just aren’t that crazy about the ol’ muff dive.

Ladies, and indeed, gentlemen, there is no polite way to eat pussy. Oral sex requires courage, commitment and a bottomless, compelling love for the genitalia throbbing in one's mouth. And if you haven’t yet, you need to find someone like the bartender that changed my life; someone who’ll spit at, growl on and immerse themselves entirely in the pretty little origami between your thighs, and who will munch and slurp and eat until you’ve collapsed in a paroxysm of screams, giggles and convulsions.

You can quote me on that.