4. Revision applies to the gag reflex

Why do we base our self-worth on the amount of suffering we endure? My life had gotten a lot easier recently; why did I have to feel guilt and shame because of that? Is there a contest we’ve all entered, to see who works the longest hours or has the shittiest job or gets the smallest paycheck, that I could now sense I was losing? We feel good about ourselves when we are doing the things we’re really good at. It’s human nature. But why should it matter whether or not that thing you’re good at is a bigger pain in the ass than everyone else’s? Is it a global pity-party? This was not a game show on which I wanted to be a contestant, anymore. So here’s where I came out: Instead of feeling bad about all this time I wasn’t spending at work, I decided to spend that time doing other things that make me feel good, to see if that would hold off some of the guilt and shame. We feel good doing the things we’re good at. Hmm… What am I good at besides my old job? What else makes me feel good? Well, there’s writing, and then there’s cock sucking…

The art of the blow job is worth perfecting. Also, there’s no such thing as the perfect blow job – if you really get involved with your technique, you will afterwards think Oh, I should have done X just a little longer or Damn, I never got a chance to Y, pretty much every time. In that way it’s actually similar to writing poetry; no poem is ever really finished. You stop working on it when it does what you want it to do at the time, but if you come back to it later there will always be more revision. There’s joy in that, though. Here’s something you can be really good at, and still keep doing forever, getting better and better and better. Because it’s worth perfecting, and there’s no such thing as perfect. (What a glorious justification! It’s like permission to eat your favorite dessert for the rest of your life!) With cock sucking I like to think I was always something of a natural, but if perfection is unattainable, that necessarily puts it a long way off, and despite having some skill in the department, I was a particularly long way off because of a pretty decent gag reflex. I could never master the deep throat.

And just like that, I had myself a new job.

This was not the first time I’d attempted to undermine the gag. Several years before I’d read something about simply trying to get anything into the back of your throat, on a regular basis – your toothbrush, your finger, a spoon, whatever. Just try every day, and try to get a little further back, every time. This was a huge, disappointing failure. It should come as no surprise to learn that a toothbrush and a cock have very little in common. It’s not the same experience at all, and the one doesn’t translate to the other. This time I started with my most bendable vibrator. It’s almost realistic, shape-wise. It has no G-spot angle or rabbit attachment. It’s big enough. But here’s the thing: It wasn’t that much fun. This was going to take some experimentation. Again though, know when you have a lot of time to experiment? When you’re unemployed. 

It turned out that what I had to do was insinuate it into everything else I’d been getting to work for me, in this strange new time. I started keeping that vibrator in a bin of bras and stockings that I can reach from my bed, instead of in the big, sex toy chest across the room. This way, when I woke up for the second time on those mornings when someone had earlier cum all over my ass, I could add my practice to an already sexually charged situation. It’s way easier to get a cock – even a fake one – into your throat when you are halfway to orgasm, already. Similarly, when you are about to send a dirty picture to your husband, because you just had one. Assignment to be done in the house? Practice then too. Out of the house? Practice after. Writing a poem about sex? Yup. This is how it started to work. Still, a vibrator is not a cock, no matter how much it’s trying to be. It’s easier with the real thing, and honestly, so much fun that you’ll want to do it constantly. Fortunately, you’d be hard-pressed to find a man who won’t help you out if you say “Hey, I want to experiment with deep throating. Think you could let me suck your cock for awhile?” Commence hours and hours and hours of glorious, blow job luxury.

It really is easy to get caught up in. Make a game of it. Never take a break until a moment when you’ve just been particularly successful (at which point you won’t want to take a break). Which is better for you, facing his head, where you can look into his face or facing his feet, where he can look into your quim? Which is better for him? I’m a particular fan of lying sideways and sucking the head of his cock against his belly, like leaving some of the ice cream on the spoon. Teasing the tip is fairly effective, when he knows that at any moment you can take that tip and swallow it until he can feel it with his own hand at your throat. Try finding that spot that used to be as far as you could go, and playing with the difference, like a mini cock sucking that happens at a new depth. Find out where your vocal chords are, by learning at what depth you can no longer produce sound. Experiment. I can’t say enough how absorbing it is to suck a man’s huge cock into the tunnel of your throat, until there is no more length to take; to bury your face in his abdomen and feel his pelvic bone against your lips… It does things to your head. You will become infatuated with the act. Lost in the lack of breath – that familiar, solitary place that your mind becomes when you are not breathing, because no, you cannot breathe, even through your nose, with a cock closing off the pharynx. It’s a good lost. You will lose track of time. You will need a man with endurance. (You will need to start having sex earlier in the evening, if it’s a weeknight and you want to get any sleep at all.) But like with poetry, there is always something more that can be done. So now that you’ve got a cock impaled right to the hilt in the depths of your throat, what more can you do? In what ways can you move your throat when it’s so full of cock? It knows how to swallow, even when it’s full. What can your tongue get up to, in that limited space? There’s only one way to find out: Practice, practice, practice.

(This one's a little... tongue in cheek.)

(Seriously, I fucking crack myself up, sometimes.)