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Wednesday, August 22, 2012

What It Feels Like to be Eaten Out (Again)

I recently read an article describing, in rather artistic and overtly witty detail, what it feels like for a man to get his dick sucked. While my figurative penis is usually substantially larger than most males', I - to the shock of some - don't actually have a penis. Which would make it pretty impossible for me to gage just how accurate this author truly was.

So I guess I will take his word, and his dick's sensations, for it.

The article was later coupled with a female counterpart, which described in detail the sensations associated with a man heading south for some oral fixation sensation time. While it tantalized readers with a few key descriptors, I found the majority of the piece to be much of a tease. And a let down. Like a man who lost his way while attempting to traverse your cave. Instead of hitting the clit, her words just danced around the taint. And left you feeling oddly unsatisfied. Sadly disappointed. And consistently lifting your head, looking at the syllables and wondering just what the fuck is going on down there.

The only place your eyes should be looking is the back of your skull, attempting to locate the neurons that have been awakened and rapidly firing thanks to your lover's twirling tongue and frantic, fluttering fingers. You should be incapable of lifting your head, for fear that even an ounce of movement will shift the soul-shattering intensity of their lingering mouth and hip-holding hands.

I'm too big a fan of passion, to let this one go. So here it is, you muff-diving maniacs.

Gents, sorry I'm not sorry that you miss out on the joys of having a vagina.

Ladies, I hope I fit our boxes in the proper picturesque packages.

Being eaten out feels like a swirling slushy machine top is being gently applied to the fibers of your core. You feel tingles. Twirls. Swirls. Lush. Lust. Slithering from the top of your clit to the bottom of your spine.

Being eaten out feels like The Weeknd - Wicked Games is being played from the bottom of your rib cage. Every vibration hums. Murmurs. Purrs. Buzzes, until the tip of your clit quivers in scintillated sound.

Being eaten out feels like a split personality of sexuality and susceptibility. Every lingering kiss that inches closer to your protruding hips. Every feathering finger that slides inside as a hurricane swirls around you. Is a reminder of vulnerable closeness. Of detached togetherness. Of fucking love.

Being eaten out feels like Medusa let her hair down between your legs. You've always preferred a man to a woman, but the snakes leave fingers in. Out. In. Out. Searching. Looking. Finding. Feeling. Rubbing. Twirling. Circling. In. Around. Down. And you are left wondering why Perseus would ever cut her off.

Being eaten out feels like your toes are on fire. They burn. They cringe. They dig into the sheets as if the stop drop and roll method would intensify the creeping orgasm you are beginning to feel in the back of your throat.

Being eaten out feels like your hair is shivering in ravishment. Strands of culmination crawl to the edges of the bed. Linger on the palms of your clawing hands. Ache in felicitous ecstasy. And sprawl across passionate sheets, yearning for a taste.

Being eaten out feels like a lump of orgasm is stuck in your throat, slowly sliding down to your chest. Tits. Stomach. Hip. Birthmark. Pussy. Clit. Lips. Tongue. He licks it out of you, never lacing your mouth with his. He awakens a slumbering luxury, previously resting on the tips of every sleeping nerve that silently hid under your passion-painted skin.

Being eaten out feels like melting. Like your skin is steaming chai tea. Like your legs are boiling noodles. Like your chest is sinking sand. Like the core of the earth resides between your legs. Boiling. Swelling. Swirling. In a clit that he rubs with the tentacles of his lust for you.

Being eaten out feels.

It makes you feel.

And you're left wondering if you've ever felt anything, before this.

This post is a specific response to my guilty pleasure, Ryan O'Connell, and his hilariously descriptive piece "What It Feels Like to Get Your D Sucked". Definitely take the time to check it out.