I wanted to respond to your recent article about the joys of going down. I agree with the author that oral sex is fantastic! But in my experience, very few men ever learn to enjoy it.
The one and only time a man kissed my hidden lips was during my twenty fifth summer, two days before I gave him my virginity. It was my first date, and I didn’t have a condom, so he and I pleasured each other with our mouths and hands. I received the first, and unfortunately only, orgasm of my life that night. The sensation began so delicately, and built so steadily, that I simply had to surrender as ecstasy coursed through me. Is this what I’ve been missing, I wondered. And it was all so easy. Sex was going to be a wonderful thing.
When Dave and I had intercourse, though, sex fell on its prat. Hurry, hurry was then the order of the day. I can’t fault Dave entirely for hurrying. He had a penis that didn’t often behave, and seldom rose to any occasion. We always used a condom, as this is the age of AIDS. Most often, though, things were over before the rubber ever got close to entering me.
And Dave was my only lover who showed any promise at all. Dave Number Two had a four inch wonder, when stiff, and hadn’t a clue as to what to do with it. He hated foreplay of any sort, and actually told me he had never touched a woman’s vagina with his lips, which he reserved for “proper kissing.” Since I allowed myself to be poked (and believe me, “poked” is the word) in the vagina by his rubber dressed wonder, he felt he didn’t have to pleasure me. Patient as I am, I nonetheless shortly ditched him and the four inch wonder.
Dave Number Three (I don’t necessarily lust after the name Dave, it’s just come out that way) was a twenty eight year old virgin. He is probably a virgin to this day, though I’m not sure he knows it. He had a learning disability, at least when it came to sex. His parents were Victorian era refugees. His mother hinted I was a whore for even considering sex before knowing a man for a minimum of two years. I was twenty six, he twenty eight. I tried to teach him what little I knew on the subject, but it was no joy. The idea of oral sex filled this guy with terror. Mother probably told him that vaginas have sharp teeth.
One man I nearly married (Nathaniel, not Dave) was utterly impotent and drank like a fish a fifth of vodka every single day. He denied both problems, as only an alcoholic can. He also enjoyed gambling. He often dropped huge sums on a single football game whilst we ate hot dogs.
Nat was a real winner. One night I asked him to lick me gently. I am a persistent lady. I lay back, expecting to enjoy his mouth on me, as he had so often enjoyed my mouth upon his member. He started licking my thigh! The man was forty eight years old! After all that time, a divorce and two kids along, you’d think he would know that a woman doesn’t carry her vagina on her thigh. (Imagine how much more shocking miniskirts would be!) I was finally forced to ditch “the thigh master” when he one day waltzed out of the emergency room despite a blood alcohol level of 4.1.
I am now twenty eight years old. My one orgasm is a three year old memory. I haven’t been with anyone in over a year. My conclusion is that oral sex is a treasured luxury that only a rare man is willing to give. A man who will caress your hidden lips with his tongue after his mindless penis is satisfied is a true unicorn.
N.B., London, England