Sexual Healing
2005-05-25 2:30 p.m.
I was about 16 or 17 years old, which would make my girl at the time about 14 or 15. She was the first girl I�d been with and I was her first. Back then I was a sexual dynamo. I wanted to try anything and everything. I could go for a solid hour and hardly break a sweat. I could go 3 or 4 times in a row without stopping. So many a weekend we spent getting stoned and boned 7 to 10 times in a day. Of course, in the beginning, beign experimental isn't what it is later in life.She was having fun experimenting as well, although the instilled shame and shyness within her made her repression harder to deal with than my own. So it was all missionary and from behind and other such variations. It took me a while to convince her to get on top, which I found that I really enjoyed.
So the months went by. We�d been together for a couple years. The sex had died down a bit due to pregnancy scares and some growing apart and whatnot, but we still enjoyed the sex we had. One day, while hanging with a couple older friends who happened to be dancers, I�d gotten an introduction to the idea of giving head. I�d received it a couple times by then, and kinda enjoyed it, but never really gave it a go.
The idea of giving it intrigued me. I�d never heard guys bragging about it or anything. As a matter of fact, I�d heard a lot of guys claim they�d never do such a disgusting thing. I never quite saw eye to eye with them, but the comments about blood and piss hit home. But these girls � who I�d looked to as pros of a sort (due to age, experience and industry) went on and on about how important it was. How great it was. How it would take you from being a good lover to a great one, etc, etc.
I had to try it. I�d considered it before, but I felt silly and stupid. I figured she�d never go for such a thing. She was so embarrassed of her sexuality. So I asked her about it. She didn�t know how she felt about the idea, which was a green light in my eyes. And so, one stoned Sunday at my place, I went for it.
I started down slowly, doing my very best at trying to keep her comfortable. Once I got past the navel, I knew there was no return. I was about to see something that�s been so carefully hidden form me for so long. And man did it scare the shit out of me. It didn�t look like the one�s I�d seen in the magazines and movies. It was ugly at first glance - ugly from being so foreign. Ugly from what the world had told me about it thus far. Ugly from her seemingly dislike or shame or embarrassment from it. Ugly from the idea that I had to stick my tongue in there.
I had to man up. I shut my eyes and went for it. It barely had any taste at all, which was unexpected. I moved my tongue around trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do. All the reading and movie watching and other various research wasn�t doing shit for me at that point. I noticed that her entire body tensed up. She pulled me off by the hair almost instantly. She hated it. It was the worst thing she�d ever felt. It tickled and made her shiver and made her feel just plain wrong.
I figured either I fucked up really badly or that was something she had to get used to. I backed off and we talked for a bit. I tried to get her comfortable again and promised not to try again.
Of course that was bullshit. A week later I convinced her that it might be better this time since she knew what to expect. So here I went again. This time it wasn�t as scary or ugly to me. It wasn�t quite as beautiful as it would later become in my mind, but I was far more comfortable with it. I told her to do her best to guide me, whether with her words or hands. She agreed and I slowly went for another try. Again she was turned off by the slightest touch of the very tip of my tongue. She got angry this time, and I knew it was time to stop the effort. At least for now.
It�s not my business to share such things, especially with people I only know so well, and especially at that time in my life� the most non-trusting time in my life � so I couldn�t ask anyone for advice. So I dove into my own head to analyze everything. I tried to think about all the things my experienced friends told me. I tied it to the stuff I read, from magazines and whatever else I could find, and the stuff from the videos. It seemed like I was doing it right, or at least not THAT wrong.
I thought it over and decided that maybe it�s merely because she was too afraid of her own body. At the time I had no idea that most people masturbated, so I knew she would take it oddly if I asked her if she would try. She wasn�t as offended as I expected her to be, but she was absolutely against it. After a couple weeks of roundabout and direct convincing, I began to come up with more subtle approaches.
I tried to guide her hands along her body and eventually to herself so that she might know I was there with her. I was trying to help her with the comfort she seemed to lack on her own. No go. Once we were there, she�d shy away. She couldn't bare any contact with her clit.
I was nearly fed up, and figured it just wasn�t going to happen, when suddenly the light bulb flickered. It was a night I couldn�t make the 45 � 60 minute drive to her place in the suburbs. I think my car was in the shop or something. We hadn�t seen each other in about a week. She still hadn�t been comfortable enough to try hooking herself up. I had an idea�
I lowered the lights and asked her to do the same. I shut my eyes and tried to imagine some of the better times we�d had sexually. I lowered and deepened my voice and started describing it to her. It was killing her, and I knew it. She was out of her mind begging me to come over. Shit I was rock hard and ready to steal a car and head over there, but I had to keep my cool. A good 20 � 30 minutes of sexual talk. I nearly nut twice without even touching myself. Still didn�t work.
I tried a couple more times a couple weeks later. Still nothing. Only begging for me to come over. And once my car was fixed, it didn�t take very much begging at all.
I�d decided my days of phone sex were long over way before I even realized that I was attempting phone sex. Back then I figured phone sex was something old lonely guys paid for. I figured I�d never give a woman head. I figured most women didn�t masturbate. My sexual ingenuity and creativity and eventually motivation was shot to hell. This was the beginning of my sexual cynicism.
Eventually I would get to a point where any sexual writings were corny to me. Porn magazines were ineffectual. The idea of writing or talking about sex in any detail became completely foreign to me. At the poetry readings I was turning tables for, anytime someone tried to kick off something erotic, I�d flip my headphones on and listen to the next track I�d have queued.
The only things with sexual connotation that I wasn�t completely turned off to was music. Al Green will always be a bad motha fucker. I think maybe it�s because music tends to dig into the soul a little easier than other things.
Of course, years later I would learn that I wasn�t so bad at giving head. But my sexual creativity has become what her pussy had been for her. An embarrassing place meant not to be explored. And as I hope she eventually learned how to enjoy her own body, I hope that I might now be able to learn to enjoy my sexuality again.