Sexy isn't perfection. Sexy is confidence.
For a whole decade, I didn’t let anyone go down on me.
No one — guys (before I tossed them to the sex curb), girls (even the ones I wanted with every fiber of my lusty being), the young, the old, one-night stands and longterm lovers — was allowed to put their head beneath my skirt.
Yes, that’s ironic for a girl who wears a pussy beanie. (PSA: I don’t smoke. The cigarette was a prop.)
The moment I felt my partner’s lips pressed up against my stomach, I tensed up. I knew what was coming, and I wasn’t going to let that happen. Nope. Not on my clock, kittens.
This was usually followed by glistening doe eyes gleaming up at me, after I rejected their oral-sex efforts.
“Whyyyy? You’re beautiful,” they would ask, peering up at me as if I’d just kicked them in the stomach.
“I’m just not into that,” I would say, pushing them down on the bed, climbing on top and taking ~control~ of the situation, in hopes of distracting them from oral sex.
And I wasn’t lying. I wasn’t that into it because the entire time my partner went down on me, I was fixed on imagining how horrendous the experience was for my partner.
Do I taste bad? Do I taste clean? What does a clean vagina even taste like? Ew, I bet she’s miserable down there.
Ugh, I can’t even see her facial expression, so I have no idea if she’s into this or not. She’s moaning, but she’s probably pretending to like it.
Why don’t I just put her out of her goddamn misery and end it. Holy fuck, my thighs look ginormous from this angle. She’s going to know what gigantic, disgusting, FAT thighs I have now. They jiggle. They’re hideous. I’m hideous.
This is a nightmare.
That was literally the monologue that played inside my head every time I attempted let someone venture down under.
It didn’t matter if I was stone-cold sober or blackout drunk (which I was 90 percent of the time in those days because I hated my body so much, I couldn’t stand to let anyone touch it or look at it in the sober light of day).
This overwhelming, self-loathing conversation I had with myself when anyone went down on me was so bad, I stopped my partner before my harsh words escalated.
See, I grew up with the belief that a lot of girls have: that sex is entirely for my partner’s pleasure and that my pleasure is entirely connected to pleasing my partner.
Girls constantly talked about how much they LOVED giving blowjobs in high school because “making someone feel sexy makes us feel sexy.” Typical selfless girl shit.
You would think being a lesbian would free me from these sexist ideals, but unfortunately, I still grew up in the same misogynistic culture as everyone else — a culture that makes us women feel like our vaginas are somehow dirty and that a person putting their mouth to our genitals is them making the ultimate sacrifice.
It never even occurred to me anyone could like going down there, even though, as a lesbian, I can safely say I fucking love going down on women. I even made this video about how much I love it:
I just felt I was too hideous for oral sex, and the whole charade was too vulnerable to handle.
Finally, I dated someone who was wildly offended by the fact that I didn’t want her to go down on me. Our courtship was brief, but hey, they say everyone comes into your life for a reason, right?
She taught me a very valuable oral sex lesson, and I’ll be forever grateful to her because of it.
One night she said to me, “Do you like going down on me?”
“Yes,” I told her, honestly. I wasn’t lying. I liked very much having my brunette head pressed between her legs, thank you very much.
“Well, it’s no different for me. In fact, I look at it as a privilege to be down there.”
And though her words were really simple, something inside of me clicked. She was right.
The more I thought about it, the more it sunk in that it’s actually a huge honor and privilege when your partner allows you to get that close and intimate to them. And being bestowed that kind of trust is sexy. It’s a turn-on, baby.
Of course, to make our partners feel good is a turn-on, but it goes both ways. As much as you get off on turning your partner on, they love to turn you on as well. Sex is the ultimate give and take, regardless of your gender or sexuality.
While thinking of it as a privilege gave me a huge, sexual breakthrough, it didn’t entirely stop the voices in my head from scrutinizing my whole body as the girl went down on me.
But you know what happened? One night, after a few velvety glasses of red wine, my girlfriend started to go down on me, and a brilliant idea washed over me: I decided to just hone in on the sensation alone.
I took a meditative approach to receiving oral sex this time. I hyper-focused on the sensation of her tongue against my clit, and I got lost in the feeling of it all. I stopped thinking and allowed it to happen. I stopped trying to control it.
And I had an oral sex orgasm for the very first time in my 20-something years on planet Earth.
I put this into practice every single time I had oral sex. Instead of freaking out about the way I looked, I just closed my eyes and felt the feelings.
Our minds really need that time to shut off. We have too many tabs open in our brains, anyway, so having an orgasm is like restarting a computer.
The deeper I got into this practice, I also began to realize our body’s natural smell and texture, in the context of sex, are actually extremely hot.
The taste of vagina randomly landing on your tongue in the middle of the day might be a bit, well, strange. But when you’re hot and heavy and teeming with lust, it tastes fantastic.
It’s all about context, girl. Our vaginas are not supposed to smell like brown sugar and powdered donuts. Our natural smells are our smells, and they’re supposed to trigger sexual attraction. To spray different scents and ointments all over them taints their natural glory.
Also, remember that no one is looking at your imperfections during sex. Sex — oral sex, in particular — is a time when we’re out of our heads and tapped into our animalistic sexuality. We’re a stripped-down, raw version of ourselves. We aren’t in an analytical state of mind, where we zero in on every piece of flab.
And if you find yourself in that analytical state, then you’re not letting yourself get into it. You might even be with the wrong gender. I did that with men, but never have I done it with a woman.
If you’re feeling self-conscious and vulnerable, take the power back. You don’t have to sit in church-level silence when your partner is going down on you. You can be a human. You can express what feels good and what doesn’t, you can laugh and you can cry. There is no “Emily Post’s Etiquette” guide to receiving oral sex.
So let’s go over this, babes. If you can’t enjoy sex because you’re feeling self-conscious, remember the following tips from your lesbian big sister Zara (Message me if you have to!):
It’s a privilege for your partner to be tasting your vagina. Just focus on the moment-to-moment sensation, and remember, no one is ever caught up in your flaws in the context of sex. Once you relax into oral sex, it’s like opening up Pandora’s box.
Having oral sex confidence is having the most raw confidence you can have. When you own — truly own — your sexuality and the incredible glory of your vagina, you come into your own as a woman. And that kind of confidence is truly what it means to be sexy.
Sexy isn’t perfection. Sexy is confidence.
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