How I Learned To Stop Worrying And LOVE Giving A Blowjob

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How I Learned To Love Blowjobs
Sex

It's not rocket science, but it can feel just as high-stakes.

My history with the blowjob is pretty sordid. Is there such a thing as a not-sordid history with blowjobs? Probably not.

My name is Rebecca Jane. My friends have always called me Becca, or, Hey Idiot, if that moniker is deserved.

How does this relate to blowjobs? Well, as a child, I was briefly called B.J. You can guess why that stopped.

I think I was roughly oh, let’s say seven. The boys at school had begun to snicker when the teachers would call my name. Because the only thing I hate more than not knowing something is not being privy to an outside joke, I would not rest until they told me what was so funny.

“A BJ is what it’s called when a lady sucks all up on a penis,” a brave-hearted youth finally told me.

I could think of nothing more shocking or more rife with potential for disaster. I dropped the J and immediately just became Becca.

I avoided blowjobs with a skill rivaled only by a teenager’s ability to answer any and all questions with surly monosyllables. It wasn’t an issue in my early dating life.

That is partially because my early dating life included me looking up photos of Mel Gibson on the internet and pining.

It was also partially because I lived in fear of what would happen if a dude dropped trow and asked me to go to town.

You know that feeling you get when you’re standing near the edge of a building, where you feel suddenly so sure that you’re going to fall or be pushed or jump off?

I had that feeling, except instead of a roof it was facing a penis, and instead of falling from a great height, it was the panic that I would somehow accidentally bite off some poor unfortunate soul’s member.

Don’t worry. It’s never happened. This is the internet. You think if this story’s big twist was “That Time I Chomped Off A Dick” we wouldn’t have teased the hell out of that in the headline? WHAT IS THIS, AMATEUR HOUR?

In fact, it was just the opposite. I avoided the hell out of all penises great and small (mostly small).

If the dudes I’ve been with ever got together and talked (verily, a terrifying proposition), on one thing they could all agree: I’m a bit of a pillow princess.

It’s not from lack of interest or desire to please the dude I’m with, not at all! Heck, let’s all have all of the orgasms and cuddles and all of the hearts for eyes we want and need.

But when faced with a one-eyed trouser snake wearing a coquettish tilt, beckoning me to come forward and smooch it, I would just panic.

But there are milestones in our lives that become important to cross. So I crossed knob gobbling off of my list well before I finally got my driver’s license (at the mortifying age of 31). It’s less that I had some major awakening and more that I just grew up. I

met a dude I like. I trusted that dude. I gave that dude a blowjob, he seemed to enjoy it, so I got more confident doing it, and things kind of snowballed from there and now I give blowjobs to everyone with great aplomb.

Just kidding.

I know giving head turns on some women. I’m not one of them. But I am one of these women who firmly believes that when it comes to getting your freak on, confidence is key.

I would say that confidence is helpful in all scenarios but hurling yourself off of a roof (see above) with great confidence would still end up with what used to be you splattered on the sidewalk. Albeit it enthusiastically.

Also, in closing, your tongue goes over your bottom teeth and your top lip goes over your top teeth and it’s really not even a thing. Go forth, and blow!

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