Unashamed Truths of a Middle Class Twenty Something

I'm figuring it all out as I go.

How I Learned to Give a Blow Job

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I have been told a time or two that I give exceptionally good blow jobs. A lesser known fact, I really enjoy giving them. I’ll rephrase that. I really enjoy giving them to someone I love.

If a girl gives good head that can only mean one thing: she’s a floozy.

I have no problem blowing a guy. I haven’t done it for tons of guys, but enough to know I’m good at it. Here’s why I’ll go down: 1) It’s not personal. 2) I have all the power in that situation… Literally his dick is in my mouth; don’t fuck with me. 3) He doesn’t have to do anything to me a.k.a. I don’t have to be naked. That’s personal. 4) Once I’m done, he’ll be too tired to have sex, right?

I learned to give a blow job after I “lost my virginity” to my high school boyfriend. He’d never had one, and I had never had a dick near my face. For some ungodly reason, he never forced me into it… the first time. After weeks of begging and pleading and tears, yes he cried, I realized: a) maybe he wouldn’t rape me if I got him off with my mouth b) it can’t be that hard c) I didn’t need to be naked and therefore vulnerable d) maybe things would change.

I don’t remember much about the event except that was the one and only time he hit me in the face, thank God I don’t bruise easily. I just remember a whirl of events, separate but bleeding one into the other. Seven years later, I guess even the day after, I never could remember what came first. There was yelling, the feeling of my hair being ripped out, tears filling my nose, suffocating. I vividly remember trying so hard not to throw up as my gag reflex was triggered again and again and again. By the end of it we were both so exhausted he didn’t have enough energy to rape me.

After that first time things changed. Blow jobs quickly became currency. In one afternoon I had perfected it to the point I wouldn’t get hit. I learned how to barter blow jobs. Head instead of sex; finding new ways to make it interesting and infinitely better than sex. I found out I felt far less violated when I blew him. I quickly knew how to make it last long enough he would be exhausted and wouldn’t have enough energy to hit me or force me onto my back, and even if he had the energy there wouldn’t be enough time before our parents got home. Date nights began to include a blow job in the car before dinner or coffee because hey, I wouldn’t have to pay!

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Author: Midwestern Twenty Something

RaeAnna is a wanderer on a mission; though, she's not always sure what that mission is. Taking on adulthood with a sense of humor, a book, and her dog, she's ready to conquer the world. Unafraid to celebrate her faults or photograph her tumbles, she aims to help people see life as an ever-rolling, lopsided wheel instead of the perfectly manicured and Instagrammably stationary square we wish it were.

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