Top 10 Reasons You Didn’t Make Me Come With Your Mouth

You didn’t even try. Come on, dude. I blew you for like 20 minutes, and you gave my clit little more than a cursory graze with your hand. I’m not even convinced you’re aware women can have orgasms, ’cause surely, if you knew that, you’d’ve made at least some minimal effort to give me one. Consent is, of course, vital, but you seemed content to touch all my other bits for your own pleasure – you just made no effort to pleasure me. I’m not a Fleshlight or a sex robot. For heaven’s sake. Who raised you?! Who taught you this was okay?!

You expressed zero enthusiasm about giving head. You asked whether I wanted your mouth on me, without indicating at all that it’s something you wanted, too. You approached my vulva with a tentative slowness that made me think you weren’t so keen on the taste, the smell, or pussy in general. (I know it’s not me; my hygiene is impeccable.) Or worse yet, you told me straight-up that it’s something you do rarely and begrudgingly. Once you meandered down there, you neglected to make any noise, grab my thighs or hips, or express any excitement whatsoever. I can’t help but feel like this is a favor you’re doing for me, rather than a mutual pleasure of which we’re partaking together. If that’s the case, why are we doing this at all?

You expressed zero enthusiasm about my body overall. You’ve never complimented my curves, my shape, my bits. You’ve never called me hot or pretty or sexy or beautiful. You’ve never verbally admitted to finding me attractive in any way. Maybe you do, but the verbal admission is important to me; “words of affirmation” is my love language. You might be faceplanted in my vulva with fervor but I’m still wondering if you even think I’m cute. I need clearer signals, bro, or my anxiety will kidnap my orgasm and hold it ransom for compliments.

You ignored my instructions. No, “That’s too intense” does not mean “Double down and go harder.” Yes, I really did mean it when I said “Softer and slower, please.” No, I was not lying when I explained how sensitive my clit is. Yes, “Keep doing that” really means I want you to keep doing that. No, “A little higher” does not mean “Stay exactly where you are.” Are my thighs muffling your ears, or do you just think you know my body better than I do? I assure you, you don’t.

You ignored my nonverbal signals. Hey, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but moaning during sex is usually a sign of pleasure. So is gasping, breathing faster, grabbing at your head/shoulders/arms/hands, grinding into your face, and spreading my legs wider to give you better access. Several times while going down on me, you found a perfect spot, rhythm, or pressure, and I reacted accordingly – but you missed the memo and moved on to something else. There is some value to the “channel-surfing” technique, but once you find a channel I like, I’d love if you could stay on that channel. (And please, for the love of god, if I say “Ow” and pull away, don’t fucking do that thing again.)

You didn’t stay down there for long enough. Sorry, pal – for me, cunnilingus is not a “get in, get ‘er done, and get out” type of activity. You gotta be there for the long haul. It might take ten minutes, twenty, thirty – but I can assure you it won’t happen at all if I feel like the timer’s on. I don’t necessarily need to take a long time; I just need to know that I can. I need to know you won’t be glancing at the clock, rolling your eyes, and sighing dully into my labia.

You have no sense of rhythm or consistency. Okay, I get it; tongue muscles are easily fatigued – but you can exercise them to make ’em stronger over time. Maybe you just have no rhythm; you can practice that, too. The difference between oral sex that feels good but doesn’t get me off and oral sex that feels good and gets me off is consistency. That’s the whole secret. Find a motion and location that seems to be working, and keep at it. Seriously. I’ll tell you if and when I want you to stop.

You attacked my clit too directly. Eight thousand nerve endings, buddy. The clit is surrounded by two sets of labia and a clitoral hood; there’s no reason for you to glom onto my exposed clit directly unless I’ve told you I like that, which I absolutely do not. Drift around the periphery. Lick my clit like you’re coyly flirting with it, not like you’re engaging it in combat. There’s no faster way to desensitize me than to overload my nerve endings with direct sensation; it’s often painful, always uncomfortable, and never results in an orgasm for me.

You didn’t stick your face right in there. I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, but tongue-flicking from a distance, like they do in porn, is not an effective approach for me. Not only does it feel physically bad, but it makes you seem hesitant to have my clit in your mouth. What are you so scared of? Lower your lips down; close them around the shaft of my clit. Let me feel the warmth and wetness of you on me. Your tongue feels lovely but you have a whole mouth’s worth of other sensations you could give me alongside all that tongue. Besides, when I come in your mouth, I want to feel like I am indeed coming in your mouth.

You put too much pressure on me to get off. Orgasms are fantastic, but they’re by no means a foolproof measure of sexual enjoyment overall. And frankly, the more you tell me you’re definitely gonna make me come, the less certain I am that you’re right. Just tell me to relax and enjoy what you’re doing to me; orgasms do not often result from pressure. Unless we’re talking about the pressure of your lips and tongue on my clit.

A Tale of Three Blowjobs: Getting Over Penis Terror, Continued

My very first post on this blog was about something I termed “penis terror.” Maybe that doesn’t bode especially well as a kick-off to a sex blog… but at the time, it was the main sexual issue occupying my mind.

See, when I was a youngin (by which I mean age 15–18), penises – and men in general – made me very, very nervous. I had a plethora of anxieties and neuroses about male sexuality. I believed men were hard-wired to be sexually aggressive, to put their own sexual desires above women’s, and to judge women’s sexual performance against impossible pornographic standards. And that shit terrified me.

It’s so embarrassing and strange to recount this now, but in my first sexual relationship with a cis guy, I literally cried the first several times his penis was brought up in sexual conversation. I was so fucking nervous and I can’t even explicitly identify, in retrospect, what was making me so nervous. It was just a fear of the unknown, I guess.

I worried I would be bad at pleasing penises, and that my boyfriend would judge me or leave me for it; I worried that touching penises would somehow make me “slutty” or “tainted,” even though I intellectually knew these are bullshit concepts; and, maybe most frighteningly of all, I worried I wouldn’t like penises. I was petrified that I’d turn out to be biromantic but homosexual – because I knew I wanted to date and kiss and cuddle with men most of the time, but I didn’t know if I also wanted to fuck them. And that was a scary, dicey question hanging in the air.


But my feelings about penises have transformed monumentally over the years. I crave them, I appreciate them, I write them love songs and gratitude missives. They’re kind of one of my favorite things.

There’s no clearer barometer of my penis-comfort than my attitude about performing oral sex on them. So, for your amusement: a tale of three blowjobs.



My journal entry for July 5th, 2011 begins: “Today will go down in history as the first time I ever put a penis in my mouth.” A tad dramatic, perhaps, but it really did feel that significant to me.

I was nineteen years old. My very non-scientific Twitter poll indicates that this makes me a relatively late bloomer. What can I say? Willies gave me the willies. But when I did finally get around to it (with some very gentle prompting from my then-boyfriend), it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as I thought it was going to be.

Granted, he didn’t come in my mouth that first time, which definitely made it easier to handle. But, overall, I considered it a huge step forward and an even huger relief. I had a major fear reference; I felt invincible.

“Throughout all of this penis stuff,” I wrote in my journal, “I have learned that there are two things I need in order to comfortably jump into a fear: a supportive, loving, respectful environment, and a little push.”



After the aforementioned First Penis In My Mouth (and its owner) exited my life, I started to wonder if the same fears would rear their head again when I got another dude into my bed.

I broke a long dry spell by romancing a cute guy from the internet. During the proceedings, he very politely asked if I’d go down on him, and I immediately did, and it was good.

It wasn’t until a couple days later that it occurred to me: Huh. What took me literal months of waffling and wailing with my first serious boyfriend only took one respectful request with a hook-up. I guess I really am over that fear at long last.

The one fellatio-related anxiety that lingered for me, though, was being watched while going down. Maybe it’s linked to my fanaticism over blowjob porn and some shitty internalized ideas about “sluttiness,” or maybe it’s just insecurity about the way I look, but I’ve always hated being watched while giving a BJ.

I explained this to Adorable Internet Hook-up and he seemed to have no problem with it whatsoever. We turned off the light and all was fine and good. But, well, you hear a lot of things about how the visual of a BJ is almost as important for men as the actual sensations. Obviously preferences vary from person to person, but as someone who loves watching, say, Heather Harmon inhale a dick, I totally get the appeal. And I was bummed I still couldn’t be looked at while my mouth was full of cock.



Shortly thereafter, I had sex with a… uh, how do I even put this? A friend who I also now like to kiss and have sex with? (Um, obviously I am new to this whole sex-outside-of-relationships thing, but, semantic difficulties aside, it is fucking great.)

When a blowjob became imminent, he grabbed his glasses off the nightstand where he had set them during our makeouts. I asked him what he was doing and he said, “I want to watch.”

For some reason I didn’t even think twice about this. I guess I was preoccupied by the prospect of a cock in my mouth. (Cocks!!!) As before, it took a day or two for my brain to properly process the magnitude of what had happened. I had let someone watch me blow him! And this had previously been one of my biggest sexual insecurities!

As we were putting our clothes back on afterward and getting ready to leave, the guy even said to me that he thought I’d look hot giving him a beej on my knees, and instead of reacting with terror, I just giggled with delight. Because, yes, this is a thing that I would like to do…


Did you have any anxieties or insecurities to deal with when you first started giving oral sex? How did you overcome them?

Let’s Talk About Terminology: Oral Sex For Ladies

(Blogger note: sorry for the dearth of sex toy reviews recently! I am waiting on a bunch of toy shipments at the moment. Don’t worry your pretty little head – I’ll be back to talking about dildos and vibrators on the regs in no time!)

There are so many ways in which misogyny manifests itself in our culture – ugh, so very many! – and language is definitely one of those. In fact, that’s one of the main reasons I decided to start this feature: to dissect sexist language conventions.

You can observe this shit in the different terms for oral sex performed on a man and on a woman. The gents have cool nouns like “blowjob,” “hummer,” and “brain.” They have great verb phrases like “sucking cock” and “giving head.” And there are specific terms for individual BJ techniques like “deepthroating” and “teabagging.” (By the way, if any of those look unfamiliar to you, get yo’ ass to Urban Dictionary, stat!)

What do we ladies have? Well, there’s the über-clinical “cunnilingus,” which is a fabulous word but not always practical in casual, heat-of-the-moment situations. There’s “eating pussy,” “eating out,” and “going down,” which are fine but sort of standard and boring (plus I really don’t like the word “eating” being used in sex terms unless there is actual eating involved). There are goofy slang terms that no one takes seriously, like “eating a box lunch” or “dining at the Y.” And as for non-clinical nouns, there isn’t a good one. “Tongue job” is the closest I’ve found, and I think it can be kind of hot in the right context, but mostly it’s still the sort of thing that elicits laughter rather than dirty thoughts.

So how do we remedy this slang situation? I propose a two-part plan…

First, reclaim non-gendered slang. I love the phrase “getting head” (or giving it) as a gender-neutral term for oral sex. There’s no reason why it ought to be gendered; oral sex, after all, involves somebody’s head and somebody’s genitals, regardless of whether those genitals are a penis or a vulva (or something in between!). Some people use “giving face” as the female equivalent of “giving head,” but whatever, bro. I don’t see why a distinction is necessary.

Second, make up your own slang terms and spread ‘em around. That’s what I try to do with “tongue job.” I’d love to hear your ideas for pussy-munchin’ vocabulary. In fact, I’d love to see the whole sex blogosphere agree on a few terms for cunnilingus and start propagating the hell out of them!

Photo credit: I can’t figure out who did the modifying, but it’s an altered version of this image from Comically Vintage!

Review: JeJoue SaSi

Imagine how you would feel about a lover who was totally inept at getting you off, who always seemed to change their technique just as you were getting close to coming, and who approached your genitals with a grimace of apprehension, and you’ll understand how I feel about the JeJoue SaSi.

Several years old and probably discontinued by now (though still available through Sex Toys Canada), the SaSi seemed unbelievably innovative when it first launched. It’s an oral sex simulator consisting of a small ball moving around underneath a silicone covering in various patterns that are meant to be tongue-like. Most notably, you can actually “program” the SaSi using its “skip” and “don’t stop” buttons, so it’ll learn what kind of patterns you like and give you more of those.

In theory? Bravo, JeJoue, you brilliant geniuses! In practice? Ugh, fuck you, SaSi, I hate you.

Problem number one: the motions kind of suck (and not in the “oh, yeah, suck on my clit just like that” way, unfortunately). They’re random, erratic, and weird. My inner labia and the sides of my clit have never gotten so much lovin’ in their life – which is great for them, I guess, but those aren’t the most responsive parts of my pussy. There are only a few patterns that focus on the top-centre of my clit where most of my sensitivity is, and none of them are a steady back-and-forth or up-and-down motion. This makes no sense.

Problem number two: the ball is too damn slow. It has three speeds and even the highest one feels merely like teasing and not like actual competent tonguing.

Problem number three: the SaSi does have vibration in addition to its minuscule movements, and you’d think vibes would improve the sensation, but I actually can’t feel the ball moving when the vibrations are on. I suspect this is because the ball can barely be felt when the vibrations aren’t on.

To the SaSi’s credit, it’s an elegant-looking toy, it feels relatively ergonomic in my hand (like a computer mouse!), and its silicone covering is removable so you can wash and sterilize it without ruining the rest of the toy. These are all good things, but they’re not enough to make SaSi a good or even passable sex toy.

If you want an oral sex simulator that may actually be able to get you off, try the Sqweel 2 or the oscillating mode on the Jimmyjane Form 2. But please, for the love of all things sexy and orgasmic, do not buy the SaSi. It is 100% frustrating and cruel.

Thanks, Sex Toys Canada!

Review: Sqweel 2

I have been excited about the Sqweel for a long, long time. Ever since it won a Lovehoney design competition years ago and they began marketing it as the first real oral sex simulator, I knew I had to have it. Sex toy obsession, meet my cunnilingus obsession.

Of course, I doubted it would really feel like oral sex. Especially since my boyfriend is a fucking cunnilingus master. He has studied my body and my responses and has honed his technique to the point where receiving oral is practically a spiritual experience for me. He always gives me a lot of variety while he’s teasing me up the hill toward my orgasm, but then he also knows exactly what methodical rhythm and circular motion I need in order to come. He’s a vagina genius – a vagenius, if you will. So how could a toy possibly compare with that?

It doesn’t. No toy will ever be as good as being tended to by a skilled and caring lover. But the Sqweel 2 is still worth getting if you like oral.

You might recall seeing the original Sqweel around the blogosphere a few years back. It was a simple design – a matte black disc-shaped case which snapped open to reveal ten flapping tongues on a three-speed rotating wheel. The second incarnation of the Sqweel has the same premise and mechanism, but it’s been updated: it has a stronger motor (apparently), a glossier case, a reverse function, and a “flicker” mode. Nifty.

My first warning about using the Sqweel: have lube on hand. Lots of it. If you’re not prepared to use a lot of lube every time you use this toy, then don’t even bother. Who likes getting slapped by dry, draggy tongues? Not me. Not you, either, I’m guessing.

Second warning: this toy will never work for you if you like pressure. It slows down rather pathetically when any significant amount of pressure is applied. I think the Sqweel could be a potential solution for women who find themselves too dependent on pressure and vibration to get off, as it might be able to help them ease their way out of “female death grip syndrome” – but if you need pressure and have no desire to change that, the Sqweel will not be your cup of tea.

And a few more warnings before we get to the good stuff: the Sqweel is loud and thus not very discreet, it takes three AAA batteries, and it’s not waterproof, as much as I’d love it to be.

Because I had heard so many mixed reviews of the Sqweel, I assumed I’d dislike it. And at first, I did. I lubed up my clit, held the toy to it, and turned it on – and it felt sort of blah. Ten silicone tongues flapping against my sensitive bits? So what?

But when I gave it time to do its thing, it built me up slowly to an orgasm that ended up being big and intense and shuddering, similar to the orgasms I experience from actual oral sex.

I picked up a couple of the alternative silicone wheels sold for the Sqweel, called Sqweelers. They’re for those of us who don’t like the standard “tongues” insert, or just want some variety. One of them is called the Wave, and it has little tiny tongues in the middle and two thin flaps, one on each side. This one looks weird when it’s not in use, but when it’s lubed and spinning on my clit, it actually feels like someone’s sucking me. Do you realize how amazing that is?!

The other Sqweeler I bought is called the Pearl. It has nubs on either side and a series of larger nubs or bumps in the middle. In use, this one feels like longer, firmer licks, the kind someone gives you when they’re trying to make you beg. And on the higher speeds, it feels like fast firm licks – perfect for sending me over the edge.

I find the original tongues insert is great for teasing and build-up, and so is the Wave insert. I can get off with all three of them easily, but the Pearl brings the most satisfying orgasms because it seems to apply the most pressure to my clit. The other two inserts just give up and keep on flappin’ when my clit is most in need of pressure, but the Pearl feels perfect while I’m coming.

The Sqweel’s three speeds are generally sufficient. There are times when I wish there was a fourth speed, but keep in mind: this toy doesn’t vibrate, so it’s not going to numb you out. I find that this lack of numbness means I’ll always be able to come eventually, even if I have to hang out on the highest speed for quite a while. (And honestly, that’s the way my body works when I’m receiving real oral sex, too, so whatever.)

So does the Sqweel 2 serve as a suitable replacement for an orally gifted partner? Hell naw, nothing does. But it’s still a wonderfully unique toy that gets me off and feels fantastic. I find myself actively craving it pretty often these days, which I have to assume is a good sign.

Thanks so much to Sex Toys Canada for hooking me up with this great toy!