The Late Bloomer

I left high school as a member of the itty-bitty titties club and then somehow managed to join the big leagues in college. Calling myself a late bloomer would be an understatement.

In high school I didn’t date, no romantic snogging trysts under the bleachers, no locker room rendezvous. Instead I opted to keep my knickers on and my legs crossed.

First kiss, first sexual experience, first relationship – all happened in college, which may or may not have contributed to my strange fear of dicks.

Not to offend any guys, but the pulsing motion and the bulging veins and the pre-cum and the wrinkly balls – it can be very overwhelming the first few times. I would get mini anxiety attacks when I knew a guy wanted to take his pants off. Growing up, I became comfortable with my own female physique but I wasn’t completely sure what was going on with the male anatomy, having never witnessed the full frontal effect.

So considering all this, try imagining what my first experience giving a guy a blowjob was like…

By this point I had already run into a few sexual encounters and had grown rather fond of the male member. However, I still had a few tricks to learn.

I was dating a very athletic and tall hunk, who we’ll call Mr. G because he had a gigantic… personality (take that Sex in the City, hah!) We were making out on the living room floor of my apartment as my shirt shimmied its way right up over my bra. Mr. G heavily breathed on my exposed torso before he began the task of slowly letting “the girls” loose.

“Babeee… My roommates are awake,” I whispered.

“Let’s get caught then.”

I quizzically squinted my eyes at Mr. G as he took my hand and pressed it against his bulging member.

A light went off in my head. Well this is new… If I’m going to do this, might as well do it like a boss.

I smiled at Mr. G. “Get up, strip down, and sit on the couch before I change my mind.”

Mr. G followed my orders without a word, while I thought Oh my god, I hope his balls don’t smell bad. I took one deep breath and went for it. Taking cues from my more experienced girlfriends, think lollipop, I used my lips, mouth and tongue to flick, kiss, lick and suck while I used my hands to give Mr. G extra sensation.

At first I thought, This isn’t great but it isn’t horribly bad either. Curious, I looked up to see how I was doing and raised an eyebrow when I saw what seemed to be an ogre who was being stabbed in the back. With his eyes barely opened, his mouth was ajar with one jaw pointed to the side and he was breathing like he was prepping for childbirth.

I gently squeezed Mr. G’s thighs and tried my best to slowly unlatch my mouth.

As I was about to ask Mr. G, “Feel good?” I suddenly realized there was something salty and gel-like floating in my mouth.

This was not the time for subtlety.

I freaked out, imagining that there were millions of little flagellum whipping around in my mouth and that they were all probably like “Where the fuck are we?! This isn’t a vagina!”

I hopped over the couch and made a beeline to the kitchen sink, I couldn’t get over the thought of those whipping things crawling in my mouth. I spat them out then took a seat next to Mr. G.

He looked at me, and started laughing. “Just think of it as protein.”

I was not amused. “Next time you better give me a heads up or I’ll just think of your dick as protein.”


Till then- kiss kiss,


( photo via lalaluro)