The first time I gave head to a young guy, as a teenage girl myself, I loved it. The tastes, the feel, the rhythmic sucking, the skin on skin feel filling my mouth. I didn’t know what I was doing at first, but I learned, under the patient, steady and grateful tutelage I received at seventeen, the first time around. The attention to detail ended up lasting me throughout the rest of my dick-sucking endeavors. And I could suck into an oblivion, with gusto.
In the right angle and positioning, I thoroughly enjoyed the entire experience for minutes on end. I got adept with other techniques, incorporating hand stroking and squeezes simultaneously, using pressure, tongue tricks, reading his body and responses. I could be a self-conscious, timid fuck at times, (rife with beauty and self-esteem issues holding me back) but with giving head, I championed. I was confident and self-actualized and ejaculate was one of my rewards.
I was also a virgin for all of 22 years of my good, black Catholic-girl life and I only had sex for the first time, with that particular person (who knew I hadn’t had intercourse before) because I fell for the infamous “I promise, just the tip” ploy and next thing you know, the length of a penis was in me. Just like that, in the quick stroke successions of the blink of an eye, my v-card was revoked.
I only enjoyed the control of giving head later in life, in the early then toward my mid twenties. But more than that, I am a pleaser and I like pleasing my (a) man and making him feel good. I just enjoyed it, the process, the act. And I need to have free reign ideally, no heavy hand guiding my head and that shit. Just, you relax, let me do my thing — and I would. Somewhere between getting older, I noticed some guys repeatedly began demanding head. Requesting it outright and the autonomy of the act for me (even though I wanted to) seemed to
wane just because he required it. Continue reading