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« March 2005 | Main | May 2005 »

April 2005

April 30, 2005

Heaven

My mother gave me sheets for my birthday.

400 thread count sateen sheets.

They are the color of butter cream icing.

I put them on the bed last night (yes, without washing them first, I didn't care).

I got into bed.

The heavens opened, trumpets blared (softly, it was bedtime), and angels beamed sweet smiles down upon me.

It was the best night of sleep I've had in ages.

I'm totally ruined now; I can never go back to standard 200 thread count sheets. For those of you who were wondering--oh, yes, there is a difference.

Now I have to go buy a new blanket because the one I have is not worthy of those sheets.

April 28, 2005

Quotes

Charlie called me up a few minutes ago and said, "I've got a new impression!"

See, Charlie does very funny vocal impressions. Like Hannibal Lector as Elmer Fudd (hewwoo, Clarisse...).

So, naturally, I said, "OK, go!"

"OK. This is Al Swearengen (a character on Deadwood on HBO) as the Charlie in the Box from Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." He then proceeds to say, "Dan, take this cocksucker down to Wu's and feed him to the pigs!" with his voice cracking and creaking like the Charlie in the Box (a character dear to our hearts, as you can imagine. He's the one that yells "Who goes there?" at the Island of Misfit Toys. Remember how he talks?).

Well, I thought it was funny.

_______________________________________________

Here are a handful of other quotes I like a lot. They are all from a document we don't hear about much these days, The Constitution of The United States of America (including the First Amendment).

--[N]o religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States.

--The civil rights of none shall be abridged on account of religious belief or worship, nor shall any national religion be established, nor shall the full and equal rights of conscience be in any manner, or on any pretext, infringed.

--Congress shall make no laws touching religion, or to infringe the rights of conscience.

--That religion, or the duty which we owe to our Creator, and the manner of discharging it, can be directed only by reason and conviction, not by force or violence, and therefore all men have an equal, natural and unalienable right to the exercise of religion according to the dictates of conscience, and that no particular sect or society ought to be favored or established by law in preference to others.

*****Edited to add: These last two quotes are apparently not directly from the constitution, but from background documents (that's what I get for speed reading). However, I think they go a long way toward arguments about "what the founding fathers intended", a statement I hear a lot from conservative christians.*****

--No man shall be compelled to frequent or support any religious worship, place, or ministry whatsoever, nor shall be enforced, restrained, molested, or burthened in his body or goods, nor shall otherwise suffer, on account of his religious opinions or belief; but that all men shall be free to profess, and by argument to maintain, their opinions in matters of religion, and that the same shall in no wise diminish, enlarge, or affect their civil capacities.

And my personal favorite:

Believing with you that religion is a matter which lies solely between man and his god, [the people, in the 1st Amendment,] declared that their legislature should make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof, thus building a wall of separation between church and state.

All courtesy of the US Constitution On Line.

April 27, 2005

This Is Breaking My Heart

Last night, after a meeting and hitting the diner with my buddies (one piece of cake—split four ways!), I was happy to make it home in time to watch my favorite news broadcast—which you already know is The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.

I made it through the election and the aftermath laughing at the foibles of both sides with Jon. But you can see that our current political climate is beginning to wear even on him. Last night’s episode—while funny—was truly depressing.

First he talked about the ridiculous Justice Sunday event. I certainly didn’t watch it, and The Daily Show only showed snippets, but the bits I saw were full of hate and anger. Watching people denounce things that are important to me, like choice and gay marriage, just depresses the shit out of me. Watching it be aligned with God makes me actually feel ill.

Then he discussed the new law proposed in Texas that would prohibit lesbians and gays from being foster parents. This is depressing enough; after all, former drug addicts, felons, and even people with a history of child abuse are allowed to be foster parents in Texas, but FOR GOD’S SAKE DON’T LET THE HOMOS TAKE CARE OF THE CHILDREN! Not only will gays and lesbians be prevented from fostering, but social workers will be permitted to investigate potential foster parents to be sure that they aren’t pretending to be straight. Civil rights violations? Hello? Anyone?

What on earth are people so fucking afraid of? Well, to answer that question, Jon Stewart turned to a pundit on CNN. This idiotic woman (I’m afraid I can’t find who it was, but she was from the Family Research Council, a lovely organization of people attempting to use Jesus as a weapon) claims that children fostered by homosexuals are 11 times more likely to be molested. She sites a study well known (as Jon Stewart reminded us) to be complete fucking bullshit and COMPLETELY FUCKING WRONG.

So that was depressing enough, but, as Jon pointed out, what was even worse was the fact that the anchorwoman on CNN allowed this woman to state this bullshit as fact and didn’t even suggest that the study she was referencing was bogus. The anchor merely wrapped it up and said, “Good debate.” (Jon’s face at that was priceless. Good debate??? What a load of crap. You can view the whole piece on The Daily Show here, just click on "Gaywatch").

This is what terrifies me, people: the fact that the news media isn’t doing its job. They are allowing pundits to state their spin WITHOUT INVESTIGATING ACCURACY. No wonder people are misinformed!

I promise you, I would want the media to investigate the claims of every left-wing pundit as well as every right-wing one. I want to know if what I’m hearing is based in fact or opinion. Don’t you?

I have met plenty of people who have been through the foster system. I have heard stories of wonderful and loving foster parents as well as stories of horrendous abuse. Based only on that small sampling, the abusers were all heterosexual. I’ve also met several gay couples that have done fostering—and they have been, across the board, wonderful. All of the couples I’ve met that have done fostering eventually adopted several children, and all of those children had HIV (kids almost nobody else wants, by the way).

If you have a big enough heart to be a foster parent (I don’t think I could do it—I could never give the children back, and that is usually required), and you have a clean record, you should be allowed to be a foster parent. There are thousands upon thousands of children that need a safe place to be.

The amount of hatred, bigotry, and fear that is being held up as doctrine right now is making my heart sick. I feel like I’ve entered some sort of awful parallel universe; I swear I didn’t feel this hopeless under Reagan or the first Bush.

Last night I listened to a young man share about losing his little brother to violence a few days earlier. The boy had been stabbed, and died in his brother’s arms. The young man is sober, and a Muslim, and he spoke eloquently about his pain and his desire for revenge. He even spoke about the fact that his religion sanctifies revenge. This young man committed violent crimes during his addiction (and got sober while serving time in prison). But last night he said he knew he couldn’t live that way any longer, and while he didn’t know if he could, he would try to pray for his brother’s murderer.

Did you hear that? He said he would try to pray for the man that killed his brother only three days after the murder occured. If this angry young man can set aside his hate, can’t the rest of us?

Even though God and I aren’t on the best speaking terms these days, I will pray for the legislators in Texas. I will pray for the folks at Justice Sunday. I will pray for all the children that need to be fostered, and pray they find safe haven. I will pray for that idiotic woman spouting hatred and lies like facts on CNN, and I will pray for the clueless anchor woman that didn’t challenge her. I will pray that we all find the way to love and tolerance.

I have to. It’s the only way I can keep from weeping about what my country has become in such a few short years.

April 26, 2005

37

A couple of years ago, a coworker struggling with infertility said to me, “They never tell you this—but 37 is a magic cut off line. After that, your fertility is shot.” I was 34 at the time, and I couldn’t believe that I would ever need to worry about that deadline (a deadline that isn’t real, by the way). I was still doing IUI’s back then and had the utmost faith I would be pregnant momentarily.

Today is my 37th birthday.

Other than the whole fertility issue, 37 is kind of a nothing birthday. You can still claim mid-thirties, if you like, and get away with it. 40 is still years away.

But today I find myself feeling wistful and sad. I wish I were ten years younger. I wish I had been strong enough at 27 to make the decision to start a family, but of course, I could barely decide at that point not to kill myself. At 27, I got sober.

If I had tried to get pregnant ten years ago, the pain and agony of infertility would have been too much for my fragile sobriety, and I would have gotten drunk. Not to mention losing my sons; that would have killed me.

Infertility is evil. It cost me my sanity. It stole my ability to smile and laugh. It caused department stores with their maternity sections and baby clothes to become chambers of horrors. Social events became fields of land mines as new pregnancies are announced, or baby showers happen, or babies celebrate birthdays.

There is no way I could have survived this in early sobriety. But part of me longs for more time, more youth, more ease in living.

I know the last ten years that I’ve lived mean I will be a better mother. I have more patience, more heart, more love to spare. I have learned how to be kind. I have learned boundaries and how to take care of myself.

The loss of my sons taught me how to cherish; I have no doubt my next child, however it arrives, will be even more loved because of what I’ve lost.

So I know, in my heart that now is the right time. This is the time I’m supposed to become a parent, and not a minute sooner. Even if I suddenly feel so damn old.

So Happy Birthday to me. At least it’s sunny today; maybe God doesn’t hate me after all.

April 25, 2005

Passover, and a new Senate Bill of Horrors

So Charlie and I went to Sarah's parents for Seder on Saturday night, and we were about half way through dinner when I realized that they had probably read this.

Well. I guess that's what I get.

We almost bought a house on Saturday. It was nearly perfect--the right flow, the right size, excellent yard, and cheap enough that we could have made it into home. But it wasn't in a neighborhood, exactly--it was in a business district (although what qualifies as a business district in this tiny town isn't much) and our dear friend who does contracting basically gave it a thumbs down. Said it would really need $50-60K to really do it right, and that's too much for us to contemplate.

So the hunt continues.
___________________________________________

I read about Senate Bill 51 (House Bill 365) on Alas, a Blog today.

This bill not only requires that abortion providers inform the patient that the unborn child will be feeling pain, it actually defines what a woman is.

Here is the text of the bill, here is the sponsoring senator's rhetoric about it, and here is the part where they define what a woman is:

WOMAN- The term `woman' means a female human being who is capable of becoming pregnant, whether or not she has reached the age of majority.

There is so much that is alarming about this bill. As the unlucky recipient of a late term abortion myself, I can promise you that the LAST FUCKING THING I needed on that day was to be informed about how much pain my baby was going to be in.

But the fact that they have decided that a woman is only a female capable of getting pregnant, well. That's very fucking nice, isn't it? Fucking arrogant presumptuous assholes.

Where are we? Is this the Taliban's Afghanistan? Saudia Arabia, where it is suggested that now burkas should only expose one eye (to prevent women from winking)? Are we going to need to start binding our feet? What the fuck is going on here, people? I'm so---so---so---fuck it, I can't even go there.

Please, people, we have to make this stop. We cannot slide any further down this slope.

April 22, 2005

There's no point to being a pessimist. It doesn't work anyway.

So said my Honest Tea the other day.

Can I just tell you? I hate today.

Today I was going to go camping. But it's going to rain all weekend. This makes me want to weep.

Charlie is still sick and can't see the doctor he needs to for three weeks, no matter how much pain he's in. This has been going on for almost a month now, and I'm finding it very hard to be patient with Charlie. Because I'm a bitch like that. And that makes me want to weep.

We're looking at houses again today, including one that's a serious possibility, but we won't have the money for a down payment until late next week, so we'll probably lose this house, and that also just makes me want to weep.

My period started. Weeping should commence any moment.

I hate today.

________________________________________________

Here are the other random thoughts in my head today.

Does it bother anyone else that the new Pope used to be a Nazi? OK, it was Hitler Youth, OK, it was compulsory, but still. It's creepy.

Why, oh why, is anyone even still CONSIDERING John Bolton for the UN post? This guy actually chased an employee down a hallway while throwing things at them. Nice. Hey, W: I hear Colin Powell needs a job. Hello?

How exciting is it that all you people with a slightly-higher-than-normal BMI are actually the healthiest people in America?

Elise's husband has a brilliant idea to solve the gay marriage issue. Let's eliminate marriage altogether! The government should sanction ONLY civil unions between everyone, and let the church be in charge of marriage! I think it could work. And here's an interesting note--the Supreme Court in Spain just ruled that gay marriage should be allowed.

That's all I got folks. What are your random thoughts today?





April 20, 2005

Our Government Just ROCKS

Just heard about this on NPR at the same time I read it over at Big Fat Blog... apparently the Center for Disease Control just admitted that they had seriously overestimated the number of Americans that die from being fat.

Yep. Instead of 365,000 Americans dieing each year from obesity, the number is significantly lower--25,814. That's fourteen times lower, people.

Not only that, but according to a report I just heard on NPR, it turns out that nearly the same number of Americans die from being UNDERWEIGHT.

Yeah, you read that correctly. You may be just as likely to die from being too thin as you are from being too fat.

But, instead of possibly revising their currently publicity campaign, the CDC has made the decision to continue to spread hysteria.

Nice.

_________________________

Oh. And then there's this. More terrorism occured worldwide in 2004 than in any year before (they've only been keeping track since 1985).

Thanks, George!

April 19, 2005

Miscellany

Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?

Thank you for all your wonderful responses to our blowjob post. You all taught me as much as I taught you. There were many things I’d forgotten, mostly because Charlie and I have been together for TWELVE YEARS now and you know how you go with what works. He surely thanks you all for the new tips.

I’m glad to say that Sarah is home! Welcome home, girlfriend. Once I knew she was home safely, I was able to blurt out in our first phone conversation that before she left I’d had a horrible dream that she died in a fiery plane crash. Wasn’t that considerate of me? That I didn’t tell her before she went?

Also, I want to give a shout out to my fab friend Tracy (hi Tracy!). We hung out a lot back in the 80’s (fuck, we’re old) and we got to see each other for the first time since 1988 last night. You know those girlfriends? The ones that no matter how many years go by, you still both end up hoarse at the end of the night because you talk so darn much? Yeah, we’re like that. It was awesome seeing her and her husband and meeting all FOUR (yowza!) of her kids. I had a great time hanging out with her and am thrilled she’s back in my life. She’s also an amazing artist—check out her work and buy lots of it. I promise you won’t regret it.

Our house-hunting progress is s-l-o-w-l-y moving forward. Did I tell you about our agent saga? I can’t remember and I’m feeling too damn lazy to check. We first hooked up with an agent with an office a block away from us. The main agent we worked with—we’ll call her H—was really wonderful and we liked her a lot. Her partner, however, well. We’ll call her the Princess Cunt (because she has the word “Princess” on her rear windshield, and my google rank for the word cunt is waaaay too low). She was loud and annoying, called listing agents assholes because she didn’t follow up on scheduling our appointments (hence the morning three out of the four houses we wanted to see we couldn’t get into). She also ran about the office without shoes on and loudly proclaimed to be working when I could see she had three instant message conversations going on. The last time we dealt with her she showed up at our appointment wearing gym gear.

We know we’re no prize to an agent—we’re poor, we don’t know what we’re doing—but still. We deserve jeans at the very least. Please.

Also, once we switched to looking at houses in the suburbs, we were not in an area they knew really well. So we dumped the Princess, sadly also dumping H, and switched to using a woman who is THE local agent in the little town we adore.

This agent, however, is very sweet but she’s a bossy mom. Meaning I send her listings I want to look at and she decides which ones would be appropriate. Earlier today I had to insist that she show us a house she thinks we’ll hate. I don’t mind an agent making those assumptions after we’ve seen a bunch of houses together, but making them prior to knowing how incredibly low our standards are isn’t fair. The ones she thinks are appropriate for us are often out of our price range.

She also made several inadvertently hilarious statements like, “If you lived there, Charlie could coach a Little League team!” Which is really, really funny if you knew him. He’s more likely to take up daily skydiving.

At some point during our first tour of houses with her, we told her about the boys (after she asked if we had kids, I think). She was very kind, up until she said, “Don’t some babies survive if they are born at that age?” At which point I tossed her down a flight of stairs patiently explained how misinformed she was.

Charlie despises her, but I like the fact that she really, really has her finger on the pulse of that community and will definitely be able to hook us up with houses quickly. But aren’t there agents that aren’t obnoxious?

But we’re getting down payment money together, and have made the decision to list our house in the next week or so (with a late closing so that we have some time). We’ve also decided to sell our house primarily “as is” and reserve funds we would have spent on painting and whatnot on our new house instead (or maybe some new furniture—but I haven’t broached that subject to Charlie yet—although, since he reads my blog, I just did, in a lovely passive-aggressive way). Our neighborhood is so hot right now I think it won’t really matter, we’re still going to take a huge ass fucking profit on this house and we won’t make ourselves crazy in the process.

Elise and her family have found a home, so by the end of June they will no longer be our neighbors. This morning as I let myself into their house and got their dog out of his crate to take him for a walk (along with our dog), I realized how very, very much I will miss that. The other night they called us at 11 pm to borrow some printer paper and Elise was thinking how sad it is that we won’t be able to do things like that any more. I imagine we’ll spend the next two months doing all the normal things we do together and weeping. We’ve made plans to have an every-other-Sunday-night get together with dogs included so that we can all stay close. Plus, we will have to visit them often because their new house has the most beautiful bathrooms IN THE UNIVERSE.

Elise and her husband have decided NOT to sell their current house, so should our whole world fall apart for some reason, we can rent it and just haul our stuff down half a block. Excellent fallback plan, no?

Last but not least: how many of you are registered with Bloglines? If you are, have you found that you don’t make comments nearly as often as you used to (I know I have)? Because a husband and wife post about blow jobs SO TOTALLY deserves over 50 comments*, people. COME ON.


*What can I say, I’m greedy. Shoot me.

April 17, 2005

My Milkshake Brings All The Boys To The Yard

Years ago I dated this cellist. We lived together--even moved to the suburbs at the end--but it ended badly. One day I came home from work and I thought we’d been robbed, but he had just moved out (he’s the author of the famous note: “Cec--I thought about our relationship and moved”).

A few weeks later we ran into each other at a bar and he told me all about the new girl he was dating (yep, I was an idiot--I let him tell me). Suddenly, he got this wistful look on his face and said, “But she doesn’t give head like you do...” When I heard he married that girl I remember thinking now he’ll be missing me for the rest of his LIFE.

I share this story by way of qualifying.

I’ve been reading up on what other people say about blow jobs on line. There’s plenty of good information out there; pretty much anything I write is going to be obvious and redundant. So read here, here and here. Also, it’s almost impossible to write about this without sounding smug, pornographic, or clinical. I’ll do my best, but I’m sure a lot of you at home will say, “Oh, I knew that. Tell me something new!”

Secondly, I have to admit to three things. First off, I have little or no gag reflex, thanks to years of bulimia. So for those of you who asked me about how to not gag, well, what can I say. Secondly, I have a huge mouth. HUGE. It may not look like it, but I can open my mouth really, really wide. Third--and this one is the hardest to admit--but I don’t like receiving. Don’t ask me why, I simply don’t. It doesn’t work for me. I’m still a feminist, I promise.

Given those three things, I admit to the advantage.

Here we go.

This first tip is for both men and women. It’s critical.

FORGET EVERYTHING YOU HAVE SEEN IN PORN.

Porn head, I’m sure, feels like shit. The blow jobs in porn are meant to LOOK good--not to FEEL good. Remember, as lousy as they may be, these people are ACTORS. Male porn stars spurt on cue--not because of anything being done to them. What you are looking at when you see a porno is FAKE. You cannot learn anything from those people.

Unless you rent gay porn. THAT you can learn from.

For the boys--you cannot expect your woman to look like a porn star when she sucks you off. Trust me. Close your eyes and concentrate on what feels good, not what looks good.

Second critical tip: KNOW WHAT WORKS FOR YOU.

If you can’t deep throat without gagging, don’t do it. Vomiting on his dick is  NOT SEXY.  There are plenty of ways to avoid putting the whole thing in your mouth and still be good at it, I promise. Most involve fingers and wrapping them tight and wet around the base. Move with your hand with your mouth and trust me he’s gonna be happy.

If you don’t like to swallow then figure out what the fuck you ARE going to do when the time comes. Talk about it. Me, I’d rather swallow than clean up later. If you don’t mind cleaning up, tell the dude what parts you don’t mind getting coated. I, for one, don’t permit much on the face (although an occasional chin drop is accepted). I got it in my eye once and it burned for like a DAY (now you know why porn stars squeeze their eyes shut so tight even though that doesn’t look hot at all).

About gagging. You have a dick in your mouth. Sometimes you are going to gag. Expecting to not gag EVER is insane. If you gag, just pull back, do some licking and take some deep breaths. Resume when you can. As far as how to swallow without gagging--honestly, gag away. Nothing make a man feel worse about getting head than watching you try not to gag. Take deep breaths and relax and just accept the gagging. You might get used to it, or not. Again, if you hate swallowing, plan around that.

The best part about giving head is the teasing. I become very, very focused. I lick, I breathe softly, I put my mouth around it without actually touching it except with my tongue. I do this for a long time. I frequently slide fingers or a thumb into my mouth while I’m on it softly as well. Men seems to like it when you groan while he’s in your throat too--and here’s a cool tip--groaning can STOP gagging (seems to give the throat something to do). Also, I keep my tongue firm, almost like another finger. I’m not a lips over the teeth girl--I find that hurts me after a while, and frankly, most guys don’t like it. Soft lips are great (until the end, then firm ‘em up a bit). The best way to keep teeth from being a problem is to make him lie down. This prevents him thrusting hard and catching you off guard.

The end is going to be very Hookers at the Point--all fast and furious. Staying in that place--where you are just sucking away and bouncing--is not comfortable. Your jaw aches, your throat gets chafed, maybe your saliva begins to dry up (in my opinion, giving head that way is exactly why women don’t like it--it hurts). That’s why I’ve found teasing so important--it keeps me in control and allows me to really show off. Frankly, at the end, he’s not spending much time focusing on your technique. You just  go all hoover at the very end.

Now, if your guy is a hard-core face fucker, or wants a porn star/hooker-bouncy blow job, I don’t know what to say. Maybe try to retrain him. Chances are, none of this stuff is going to feel BAD to him--so you can just do this stuff as a prelude to sex (duh) and then you won’t have to worry about it (also a good way to avoid the whole swallowing issue). And know your limits. Some men like a finger up the ass to stimulate the prostate. If you can do that, more power to you. It can really move things along, or so I’ve heard, because I would NEVER stick a finger up anyone’s ass.

My last tip is this--FORGET EVERYTHING YOU HAVE READ IN WOMEN’S MAGAZINES. If it involves whipped cream or flavored anything, just forget it. All that shit tastes like wax and will only contribute to gagging. I promise.

All right. I have no more to say. Now Charlie will take over.

____________________________________________________

Cecily has covered an impressive amount of the erotic landscape of fellatio here, so I’m just gonna provide a bit of male counterpoint.

Two of the most important elements in any erotic experience have nothing to do with anatomy or technique.  They are IMAGINATION and ANTICIPATION.   For the typical man, the mere idea  of having his cock kissed and sucked is a powerful aphrodesiac.  So one of the most important parts of such an erotic encounter is therefore the beginning.  This can involve surprise (e.g. being greeted upon exiting the shower) or pacing (e.g., the slow unzipping of the pants, ritualized removal of the belt, etc.).  Regardless, the man will know what’s about to happen, and he will be excited by it.  And the woman can use this phase to heighten his arousal.

Another thing that makes good head so exciting (for me, at least) is INTIMACY.  There are few if any acts as intimate as oral sex.  I’ve heard it said that during bad intercourse, the woman can plan how she wants to decorate the dining room or plan her sister’s wedding, but when giving head, she must be fully present in the act.   This is true, and it really helps us men to feel loved if our lovers seem to enjoy the intimacy of giving us oral sex.    (A caveat: yes, there are guys who prefer rough oral sex/oral rape, in which the whole idea is that the woman hate the act and end up with a faceful of cum.  I am NOT one of those guys, so I’m not gonna address that.  And if your lover IS one of those guys, you’re on your own.)  So, by “enjoy,” I mean those delightful little sounds that make us feel like she’s eating the best dessert she ever tasted while she’s down there.  Cecily called it a “groan”... I prefer to think of it as a “coo” or an “mmmmm.”  Of course, we men know that this is acting.  We’re not idiots.  But we don’t care.  We like it. 

USE OF THE HANDS.  Yes, as Cecily said, this is not only permitted but important.  The gentle stroke of the fingers around the cock, then slipping in and out of the woman’s mouth can provide a powerful arousal during the TEASING phase.  (Though a good grip at the base during final phase doesn’t hurt either.)  As Cecily said, the TEASING part of head is essential.  Not only does it provide the woman with a healthy respite from the head-bobbing, up-n-down ritual (which, by the way, is not the most stimulating part of the act for me either), but it provides the man with a  chance to really enjoy the view.  Men are VISUAL.  We like to watch.  And women’s mouths are beautiful, a fact that is erotically inescapable when they are kissing our genitals.  Another important thing to remember here is MOISTURE.  The erect cock craves a moist environment, so the hands (or fingers) should be wet with saliva...wet as an aroused vagina or welcoming mouth.  And dry handjobs hurt.

COMMUNICATION is also important, whether verbal or via a gentle guiding hand.  Both lovers should let the other know what works for them, and what doesn’t.  Some of this can be worked out over cheese and crackers, other negotiations occur out of necessity during the act.  Whatever the terms, make them mutual. It will improve enjoyment for everyone involved.

The FINALÉ.  Cecily is right again... by this time, if all has gone properly, sanity has gone out the window, arousal is everything, and I’m not concentrating on the finer points of her technique.   So whatever brings the man to orgasm best...whether that’s a wet handjob, grabbing the base and sucking the head, even the finger-up-the-ass (though that’s not my preference)...if it makes him cum, it’s right.  There’s a scene in a Woody Allen film, I forget which one, where two women are talking about having the “wrong kind” of orgasm, and Allen interjects that, “even my worst one was right on the money.”  That’s sort of the way it is with men. 

Well, that’s about it.  Hope that was helpful.  Sure was fun writing it.      

April 15, 2005

To BJ or not to BJ?

OK. I made an off-hand comment over at Julia's place and it has come back to bite me in the ass *grin*.

She asked everyone about things they did "badly and often" and a number of people responded with "blow jobs."

I, foolishly, suggested that the bad blow job givers should email me for tips. And, um, they did. They asked me to write a post about it so I can "help lots of people."

Now I am--of course--absolutely altruistic and love the idea of helping people, so that tempts me mightily. Not to mention the ego stroking (stroking! get it?) of being begged to write about something.

But I wonder what the repercussions would be. I don't mind the Google hits I'd get; or even the odd comments. But the idea of my boss finding this and reading about it creeps me out. But then; is it any worse than him reading about my twat?

So I could be persuaded.

I told Charlie about this and his eyes lit up; "I'll write it!" he said. I said, "I'm not sure they want a man's perspective." He said, "No, I want to write about why you're so good at it." So that's something to consider as well. Do you want both perspectives?

Last, but not least, here is a critical point: no matter how eloquently I describe the art of cock sucking, if you don't like dick in your mouth I'm NOT going to be able to help you. Period.

So. All that in mind. Should I?