The Story Of The Birthday Blowjob

ecThe first time I heard of oral sex, it was described in terms of bases. I think a blow job was considered to be third base, according to some of my seventh grade sources, but according to others, it didn’t register as a base at all. Between the new hormones raging so fiercely that I nearly mounted my locker rather than go to class, I don’t know how we were supposed to make heads or tales of it all with such conflicting answers.

All that I know is that when I first heard that I was supposed to some day put the sausage like appendage dangling between the legs of the boys I so desperately wanted to kiss, I sort of wanted to vomit. It just seemed so UNROMANTIC to me. I’d always pictured My First Time with lots of diamonds and unicorns and fluffy clouds, not with a penis in my mouth. Even the penis of the dude that I was crushing on so madly that I could hardly focus on anything else. In my fantasies, he was supposed to tell me of my radiant, haunting beauty, not suggest that I suck on his balls. It just all seemed so…wrong.

As I got older, I fell in with a group of guys who seemed to think of me as a guy…with boobs! Something that would probably explain why I am able to freely sit around and listen to people talk about their poop without wanting to toss my cookies. It also accounts, in small part, for my colorful vocabulary, so I guess I should publicly thank them for this. Thanks, Metal Heads, for the term “meat curtains” something that, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to find not hysterical.

But since I was seen as one of the guys, they thought nothing of talking about sex with me, and since as teenagers, pretty much all we ever thought about was The Sex, we spent a whole lot of time discussing it. Most of us spent more time TALKING about it than actually having it, which was a good thing for our sexually transmitted disease count, but a bad thing for our hormone levels. They talked a lot about blow jobs, something that I had studiously watched in many a porno but never had much experience with.

Apparently, since this was before most of us had The Sex on a regular basis, blow jobs were considered The Holy Grail to my guy friends which made them all the more fascinating and mystical to me. Not mystical enough to use them as practice, of course, although they regularly petitioned, because that just seemed somehow wrong to me. What I frequently pointed out to them was that although they would go on and on about how amazing getting oral sex was from their girlfriends, not a single one of them would actually reciprocate. GETTING it was okay, but GIVING it was not. This would sadly be a running theme I would see for years to come.

Many years later, in fact for my birthday one year, I was out and about with my boyfriend and we happened to be getting down and dirty in a parked car, because that’s what you do when you’re in college and don’t have a place of your own yet: you screw around in cars. Let’s talk about glamorous. So, we’re making out, and he pulls the, You Never Go Down On Me card out of his back pocket. On my fucking birthday no less! It’s one thing to ask for Mr. BJ on any given Sunday, it’s another to be guilted about something on your birthday, the one day of the year that should be full of the awesome, right?

Aunt Becky is okay with most things. Aunt Becky is HAPPY with most things (except talking about herself in third person which is kind of stupid except when necessary because it’s funny when other people do it but not when SHE does it). Aunt Becky HATES to be guilted about anything ESPECIALLY when a simple, “Hey, CAN YOU…?” will suffice. But then I was young and dumb and my balls were only made of rubber. Now they’re made of platinum, baby, and I would have told him to shut the fuck up and go down on ME for being a bung-hole on my birthday, because REALLY? My BIRTHDAY?

Anyway, so there I am, going downtown, and I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was the wind blowing at an exact thirty-five degrees north-by-northwest. Maybe it was the angle of the motherfucking dangle. Maybe it was the pie I’d eaten for dinner. Maybe it was the particular shape of the moon. Maybe it was the third leaf of the ash tree on the fifth branch tilted just so. Maybe it just was. I don’t fucking know.

What I DO know is this: when the moment arose, your favorite Internet Aunt, the one who will one day show up at your holiday party in a very festive sweater and drink all of your vodka and make a spectacular ass of herself and probably you too, Your Aunt Becky did the unthinkable: she fucking barfed. All. Over. Herself.

Oh yes, I tossed my ever-loving cookies onto my pretty purple dress that I’d bought for my birthday effectively ruining it forever, because who wants to wear a dress that’s been bathed in a mixture of barf and spooge? Not fucking me, that’s for sure.

And as for him, pants still undone, penis slowly deflating, he looked at me with a mixture of shock and horror. I simply sat there, shocked. I wasn’t embarrassed, no, not yet. I was too shocked by my body’s reaction to be horrified.

Instead, I gathered the last shred of dignity that I had, calmly wiped my mouth with some fast food napkins leftover from lunch, and said, “So, you gonna go down on me now?”

He scrambled to open his door, barely making it outside before he tossed his own cookies. I smiled.

Revenge is a dish best served barfy.

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0 comments

  1. Mariposita_Obsidiana

    I did basically the same thing the first time I gave oral to a boyfriend, only I managed to make it to the bathroom to vomit. And since we were at the movies, I made him go buy me a drink and candy to get that nasty ish out of my mouth.

    I was promiscuous little bitch.

  2. Jersey Girl

    That was excellent! Interestingly enough I was just patting myself on the proverbial back last night in the middle of…um…orally satisfying my husband. I was thinking to myself how far I have come in this area from the gagging teenage girl I used to be.

    Women are awsome aren't we??

  3. Amanda

    Wow, there's a birthday present you never knew you'd want: giving a bj. Now I'd give one for HIS birthday and then he'd reciprocate (because he's that kind of guy). Actually I'd give him one on any day ending in Y, I'm a strange creature.

  4. pjdksmith

    Holy gawd but its been a while since I 'guffawed' at something i read on the internet besides the Wallmart People webpage… Absolutely the kind of Aunt I wanna invite to MY parties! But if you gotta hurl.. well, try a construction boot.. they hold a lot.. CHEERS!

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