Why I Struggle to Enjoy Oral Sex
Who puts a playground right beside a sewage treatment plant?
I was forty-years-old before a man ever went down on me. Forty. Years old.
In my defense… why do I feel like I need a defense?… I’d only ever been in one serious relationship, the one with my husband. And although I’d given him a mouthful of blowjobs in our fourteen years together, he never offered to reciprocate. In his defense, I never asked.
I was grossed out by the idea of his mouth being so close to my anus. I couldn’t imagine that he could possibly derive any pleasure licking my clit or sucking my labia. I imagined the bacteria, even right out of a shower, and thought, Nope. Not happening.
Six months out of that marriage, I dated a man who asked me to shave my pubic hair. I think it’s kind of obvious that I’d never had a reason to shave my pubes. What might not be obvious was the horror I felt when I considered the implications of his request.
He had to ask me three times before I put on my big girl panties only to take them off again so I could attack my seventies-style bush. It was an epic job.
At the time, I was writing about my dating adventures in a blog and in what would become the first novel I’d write. That novel was fifty percent fact and fifty…
