Monday, November 15, 2010

Honestly Orally Fixated, Part B

I did an early blog post about being honestly orally fixated. But then I attended a phone sex "job interview" where my oral skills were called into question, and I realized as I was explaining my "qualifications" that I should add this information to the blogged explanations of my oral cravings.

The un-sexy part: (dental phobias? skip this paragraph) I have at least a $15,000 mouth because I had two childhood oral traumas where I knocked out baby teeth, one teen oral trauma that broke one of my front teeth (it's half-fake), five oral surgeries, and braces for two and a half years in high school.

The really un-sexy part: (dental phobics skip this paragraph too) One of my surgeries was because my adult incisors were up in the roof of my mouth, and they weren't coming down to push my baby incisors out. So they removed my baby incisors, cut a path from my adult incisors to where my adult incisors should be, attached a gold chain to my adult incisors, and then slowly tugged them into position by feeding the chain through my braces. Every time I got my braces tightened, I thought my head was going to cave in from the pain for up to a week afterward.

The bizarre outcome: I figured out that it helped relieve the pain when I pressed firmly on the roof of my mouth with my tongue or my fingers, so I did that constantly during my pain weeks. The release from pain was so comforting that it developed into a Pavlovian trigger to make me feel better, even when my mouth didn't hurt, whether I was in physical pain, emotional pain, mild discomfort, whatever... I still to this day smush the roof of my mouth to relax or comfort myself.

The sexy outcome: It's not just my tongue; anything pressing on the roof of my mouth relaxes me and makes me feel safe and comforted and happy. Like fingers. Or certain kinds of gags. Or cocks. Mmmmm, dick therapy. Delish.

The straight-A perfectionist at work: When my first true love and I started heading to third base (my first time, not his), I went to the nearby university library and researched blow jobs. I don't know what human sexuality textbooks I read, but I remember feeling like I had enough information to try it. My offer was accepted immediately, with great gratitude, and his response was, "You have to have done this before."

The theater major at work: The theater kids were a progressive lot, including sitting around in mixed-gender groups trading sex tips. I remember a horror story of a bad blow job, and my response of, "I hope I never did that to anyone" being answered by two guys simultaneously saying, "No, you're great." They high-fived and everyone laughed at me while I turned horrifically red and died a little (it was common knowledge I'd dated both of them, but ... wow).

HOLY CRAP: For my birthday that year, those same two guys both gave me a vibrator as a joint gift... and yet, I'm such a dumbass... I never realized before right now, this second, that I probably could have talked them into having a male-female-male three-way with me. I am deeply filled with sorrow and regret. And very. Dirty. Mental pictures. /blink /blink

In conclusion: (so I can go finish writing and go masturbate to the images in my head...) Mr. Interviewer, I totally deserve the job of delivering your next fellatio, because I am well-researched, well-experienced, and uniquely well-built orally to not only please you, but also have a hell of a good time doing it. Thank you very much.

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