Friday, November 12, 2010

The Blow Job Story

In the summer between my 8th grade and 9th grade years, I began talking to a girl over Myspace that I had "met" through mutual friends, named Ashley. We had met up a few times, and started "dating," which entailed nothing beyond being dropped off at the mall together, or going to each others' house. She was a year older than me (entering the 10th grade at a different school; a big deal at the time), but no more experienced than I in the treacherous world of tween sexual experimentation. That is to say, kissing was a big deal, and going even further was not worth the hours-long erection you were forced to wear like a horrible badge of honor. You know, the one that lasts way longer than it should, forcing you to take a walk of shame to her parents' Jeep Liberty to drive you home with your hands jammed into your pockets like they don't know exactly what you're trying to hide?


Aside #1: I assume all semi-sexually active males and females have been on the respective sides of this at one point or another, and know exactly what I'm talking about, or can at least imagine the situation thanks to 80's teen comedies.


Anyways, to make a long story short, after two or three months, my still-growing libido was sick of only getting to "second base" with Ashley, and wanted to take things further. Orally further. I wanted her to give me a blowjob. I'd never gotten one before (much less had sex), and was, of course...curious.


At first, she was reluctant to do this, as she'd never gone past even "first base" with anyone before, much less "third." But after some softcore-style heavy petting on her bed, with clearly broken and laughably naive promises to "always be together" exchanged in-between sloppy kisses, I was able to begin to "shoulder pat" her down to my privates.


Aside #2: I also assume that all people that have been involved on either side of male oral sex knows what I'm talking about here, the "shoulder pat" being the general term for the sort of light push guys will give their ladies while kissing them, to say, "I'd like it if you went down there. I strongly suggest you do this." It's a dick move, but we've got to let you know what we want somehow, right?


After unzipping my pants and pulling them down to my ankles (I still had my shoes on, naturally), she began to unbutton the wiener-hole in the front of my boxers.


Aside #3: I don't know what else to call it, so sorry for being twelve. I've called it that my entire life.


Her hands were shaking as she unfastened the buttons, which meant that it took a ridiculously long time to open the gates (as it was). Once she finally did it, my once rock-hard erection had sort of shrunken into what looked like a depressed, peach-colored eel, apparently no longer amused by the female face in its vicinity.


Now, at this point in the story, I have to mention that once she saw what she had to work with, she didn't throw her hands in the air and give up, or even make a funny face. Oh no. She sure as shit tried her hardest to get me going again, and I give her massive amounts of credit for that.


But there was one problem. As I mentioned before, Ashley nor I had ever been on the respective giving or receiving ends of a blowjob before, and I think she had a minor misconception as to what it involved. Rather than "suck" my dick, she instead chose to literally "blow" it; like you would a balloon. Before I had a chance to react to the sharp pain that the gust of air being blown into my penis caused, I looked down to see her cheeks blown up as big as Dizzy Gillespie's.


Unfortunately, my knee-jerk reaction was to grab the hair atop her head, pull it off of my groin (which made a very interesting popping noise), while yelling "FUCKING OW!"


Needless to say, this was not a high point in our relationship. After "cleaning up," her parents decided that they'd had enough with our preteen shenanigans, and that it was time for them to drive me home. Awkward didn't even begin to describe the car ride. We were sitting in the back of her parents' Honda Civic, holding hands loosely over the middle seat, everything feeling slightly different now that we had crossed this threshold into the void. After dropping me off, she sent me a text message explaining that she was nervous, and sorry that she'd hurt me. We made vague plans to see each other in the coming few days, but our hearts must not have been in it anymore. I never saw or talked to her again. But I sure hope she learned how to suck dick.

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