Cock Sucking

Why Do I Love Sucking Cock?

Cock SuckingI was 8 when I finally asked my mom the question, oh, you know the one. We were sitting in the front seat of her secondhand Ford sedan and I could no longer settle for “inside the mommy’s belly,” I wanted to know where babies came from.

“Well, so…” she began hesitantly “inside the Mommy’s tummy is something called an egg, and inside the Daddy’s penis is something called sperm and…”1

At this point my little brain is working overtime. Okay, so, the egg is in the tummy, and sperm needs to get in the egg… and oh god… I… Will I have to put a penis in my MOUTH one day???

I was horrified.

“… the penis goes in the vagina, and that’s how the sperm gets to the egg and…”

Oh. Well I suppose that seems bearable at least.

“That’s where the baby grows.” She finished in a rush and waited nervously for a response.

After a moment I finally looked up at her, “Mama?” I said quietly “Next time you’re going to tell me something really gross…  just… warn me that it’s gross first.” I finished conclusively, and got out of the car.2

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Fast forward seven years and I was hunched over the family’s newly acquired desktop, scrolling through a forum I had discovered for fans of my favorite show, Bones. It took me longer than one might expect before I found a section simply entitled “Fanfiction”, with a pinned post that specifically forbade “explicit content”.

Naturally, I did what any 15 year old would do, and went looking for the sites that didn’t forbid it. I suppose I knew, in theory, that these things existed, but it had never occurred to me to look, and it definitely never occurred to me that I’d be able to find stories starring characters that I already knew, and desperately wanted to see fuck.

It wasn’t long before I was reading a rather lovely story about Dr. Brennan ducking under her FBI partner’s desk, unzipping his slacks, and deftly sucking his cock. While all this was happening, he had to struggle to maintain a work friendly facade, through paperwork and conversations with his coworkers.

…. Looking back, this story may have influenced me a bit more than I realized.

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I don’t remember the first time I actually gave a blowjob. I don’t remember the moment when I decided that it was something I was ready for, or even something I wanted to do. It just felt… natural.

What I do remember is how much I wanted to know, after every single time I did it. “How did it feel?” “What felt good?” “What could feel better?” “How do I make it the best?” I joked about inventing a report card, but it was only a joke because I knew my partner wouldn’t fill it out.

He was never as enthusiastic as I was.

As you may have noticed, my curiosity never died, but our sex life certainly did. One day I was complaining to a coworker, as I often did, when I exclaimed “You know, he just, he won’t even let me suck his dick! I asked!”

“Why do you want to suck his dick? Why don’t you just ask to have sex?” he replied, perplexed.

I don’t remember what I said. I don’t remember actually having an answer. The question had literally never occurred to me. Why do I want to suck dick? Why would I want to do anything else?

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I do, however, remember the first time I got a blowjob. I was at a women and trans only sex party in this amazing space in Brooklyn. Plywood painted black divided the room like a maze, creating cubbyholes of all different sizes and shapes, some contained benches, others beds, one even housed an elaborate swing, but they all featured peep holes for voyeurs to peer through.

A pretty girl caught my eye in the common area and curled her finger before disappearing into the hallway. It was, and still is, the only time I have ever seen anyone “come hither” when they weren’t talking about the g-spot. I followed her, because lets be honest, I’m a sub and following directions is kind of what I do, and she led me into a small cubby with a bench. She dropped to her knees, wrapped her fist around the Tantus Uncut that I had hastily strapped to my body, and aggressively jerked me off while sucking the tip.

See, here’s the thing about rushing to put on a strap on, it doesn’t always wind up in quite the right place. In this particular instance, I had a solid silicone base pounding, with each and every stroke, right into the center of my pelvis and nowhere near anything that felt even vaguely good.

It was awful, I would shift and adjust, nudge the base of the cock with my hand or shimmy up in the seat, but every time the base just made its way back to that same damn spot. Instead of communicating like a grown up, I tried to stick it out, and wound up with a black and blue pelvis for a week.

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The best part of visiting my Sir is the way he could touch and use me whenever he wanted. The way we’d spend afternoons laying on the couch, talking and cuddling; even when we weren’t having sex his hands were always on me. He’d torture my nipples, play with my hair, grab my ass, or let his fingers slip down the front of my boxers.

Most of my memories of that trip are just a sexy, happy blur, but I could tell you every detail about the moment he first pulled my boxers aside and wrapped his lips around my cock. I remember how I was laying on a pile of pillows on the couch that propped me up at an awkward angle, and the way he looked up at me while he pushed the heel of his palm against my cunt. I remember not quite knowing what to do with my hands, nervously alternating between touching his head and resting them on the couch next to me.

It felt new, and different. People had sucked my strap on before, but this was my dick, the one that I had been wearing in my pants all day, the one that probably smelled and tasted like me. It wasn’t just one of my many sex toys that I had picked out for the process, it was a piece of me that I wore damn near every day and I was watching it slide in and out of the mouth of one of my favorite people in the entire world.

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There is no simple answer I could have given as to why I love blowjobs, no one thing that makes this sex act stand out from all the others. It’s about the sight of cocks against lips, and the feel of soft skin against tongues. It’s the gasps and moans of someone engulfed by a wet mouth, and fingers entwined in hair. It’s power. It’s the way I could be completely used while someone fucks my face or the way I could hold someone still while I suck their cock for purely my own pleasure. It’s the way you can quickly and easily drop to your knees in the back seat of a car or in the bathroom of a dingy Brooklyn bar. It’s the taste of cum. It’s everything.

This post was sponsored but, as usual, all writing and opinions are my own. 

 

  1. My Mom’s knowledge of sexuality was limited and heteronormative, but she worked through an amazing amount of trauma and still did everything she could to make sure I felt comfortable with sex when she never could. She is pretty rad. []
  2. A+ Boundary setting 8 year old me! []

About Bex

Bex talks about sex, a lot, and feels this is the only way to reduce the stigma and lack of education surrounding it. When they’re not trying to save the world, talking about sex to strangers, typing frantically, or sticking things in various holes they are usually indulging the other facets of their geekery.

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  • starbit

    so I’ve been meaning to ask this since this post first came out, but what packer do you use?

    • Bex

      I use the NY Toy Collective Archer and I love it! The Sam is rad too

  • Kean Woodsworth

    Holy moly, I love this post. I can’t even come up with anything productive to say, I just really love it. <3

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