The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio (6 page)

The Multi-Orgasmic Man,
by Douglas Abrams Arava and Mantak Chia, has revolutionized the way Western men control their orgasms. The book teaches men techniques that employ pressure points, controlled breathing, and muscular control to change the way they orgasm. Orgasms can be strengthened, lengthened, and multiplied; it’s also possible for men to learn how to orgasm without ejaculation. With a little practice, a man can experience the pleasure of full-body orgasms, along with all the accompanying muscular contractions, without expelling the usual mass of ejaculatory fluid. Some men may have come across their own techniques for this through experimentation. Keep in mind that this is by no means a substitute for safer-sex practices and should never be considered a reliable form of birth control.

Men who ejaculate expel different amounts, but it’s usually around 1 to 2 teaspoons. The volume can change depending on frequency (whether he’s come recently, or not in a long time), stress, or other factors. Come is comprised of plasma, fluid from the prostate and seminal vesicles, around 90 million sperm, and other fluids that contain fructose, protein, citric acid, alkalines, and other nutrients that keep sperm intact. It can also contain HIV and sexually transmitted diseases, if he’s infected. Come is usually whitish in color, but the color can also be varying degrees of clear, white, or yellow. The texture is that of a slightly thick liquidy substance, somewhere between egg whites and hair conditioner, though some men might have very thick come while others’ is thin. The muscular force with which his come is shot makes the difference in distance (if you’re measuring), and some guys shoot pretty far, while with others there is no shooting going on at all.

High Tea

by Alison Tyler

4:00 p.m. Thursday. Dainty ceramic teapot nestled beneath a white crocheted warmer. Sterling silver service polished to a reflecting sheen. Antique lace tablecloth so fine it could tear if you looked at it too hard.

Last place on fucking earth you’d find my boyfriend, Charlie.

His gold-flecked eyes are wide open, and he tosses his long, glossy-black hair out of his face with an impatient shrug. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks, visibly flinching when I tell him what I want.

“An array of delicacies served to us in our own suite by a private waiter well schooled in the age-old ritual of high tea,” I continue, undaunted by his expression. I am repeating a passage from the slick brochure of one of San Francisco’s most famous—and snobby—hotels. A passage that has turned me on indescribably.

Charlie just stares, dark brows arched incredulously.
What have I done with his girlfriend?
his expression says.
And who is this Martha Stewart-like impostor who has taken her place?

“You won’t regret it,” I assure him, and he finally reads the look in my green eyes correctly, because he begrudgingly nods his okay. Promised pleasure will make people do the most unusual things.

4:15. Thursday. The tuxedoed waiter has left, and Charlie is a true believer. Fantasy feast of finger-length cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches is ignored in favor of a far more decadent fantasy. Tiny tea cakes sit iced so prettily all alone. And my man is spread out on the richly carpeted floor, tan slacks open, receiving his first time ever tea-flavored blow job.

“Oh, God, Julie. Take another sip.”

The fragrant liquid fills my mouth and I hold it for a second, swishing slightly before swallowing. Then I’m back down on him, my lips hot from the Earl Grey, the welcoming sensation of a prewarmed mouth caressing his rock-hard rod. Sip, swallow, and suck. We could do this all day.

“Too good,” Charlie groans and arches his slim hips, pressing forward, gaining the contact he craves. “More. Please—”

Pinkie in the air, I drink again, taking my time to savor the flavor, a combination now of the strong tea and the hot-summertime taste of my boyfriend’s naked skin. I am wearing sleek white gloves and a ruffled pastel party dress in place of my standard uniform of faded Levi’s, turtleneck sweater, and beat-up black leather jacket. But my soft caramel hair has come down from its too-tight bun, and I feel that my perfectly applied lipstick has smeared. No outfit has ever excited me more.

Charlie’s warm brown eyes burn me with their heat as I swallow the tea, and then he stands, strips out of his clothes, and gets ready to really play. Gripping onto my shoulders, he moves my body, so that I’m on my back and he’s positioned above me, thrusting hard and slowly into my willing, waiting mouth. I look up at him, at the tribal tattoos that criss-cross his broad biceps, at the silver hoops piercing his nipples. He’s comfortable cruising the steepest city hills on his Ducati. Or spread underneath his treasured old Chevy pickup with his battered toolbox nearby. He’s at ease in dangerous places that would scare every upper-crust guest in this elite hotel.

And now he’s turned on by teatime.

When his cock presses against the back of my throat, I reach one hand up to find his balls as he sets the rhythm of the ride. The light caress of my still-gloved fingers takes Charlie to a higher level.

“That, Julie,” he whispers urgently. “Keep doing that.”

My fingertips make gentle circles as my mouth sucks harder. Careful rotations of soft fabric against even softer skin. The two differing sensations make Charlie close his eyes and moan, thrusting even harder and then holding still. Sealing himself to me. I’m growing wetter beneath the silly ruffles of the dress, and I look up from my position on the floor and see pink-orange sunlight filtering through the scalloped lace edge of the tablecloth.

It’s going to be a long afternoon.

Four-ish. Every Thursday. Our place.

We own our own mismatched tea service now, purchased for pennies at a second-hand store. And a small selection of teas resides in our cabinet, seemingly out of place near the bottles of exotic tequila and Johnny Walker Black Label. Charlie sets the scene himself, his large hands working to stay calm as he envisions the pleasures that await him. Delicate teacups rattle on their saucers. Petite cookies jump on the plate as he sets it onto the tray.

I put one hand on his to slow him down, and then we partake in the ritualistic and aristocratic pleasure of high tea.

CHAPTER
3

For Him

I’m going to start this chapter, the chapter for the man who will, I hope, soon be receiving fellatio, with a broad, sweeping statement: you guys are expected to know everything. Everything, especially about sex. In our culture, men are expected to take the lead, know what to do, know how everything works, and have all the answers in bed—
not
to ask questions. Not to be filled with wonder at the mysteries of the human body and pleasure. And definitely not to explore the far reaches of your desire or push the boundaries of conventional male sexuality. The worst part is that there’s a serious lack of ways for men to find answers, unless you know where to look. It’s hard for men to even ask the questions, something that you’ll eventually need to give yourself permission to do, and feel okay about. I look at how men are stereotyped, layered with expectations, and given few options, and I think that you got a raw deal. The deck is stacked against you.

Male sexuality is grossly oversimplified and stereotyped everywhere you turn. Movies, advertising, and other forms of popular culture reinforce the narrow sex box you’re supposed to fit in, and most sex guides are no better. You’re either one way or the other: you know all the answers and everything’s okay, or you don’t. You’re either gay or straight, with no fuzzy lines anywhere in between. That’s how we have come to see male sexuality, and if a man isn’t sure about sex or wants to find out more, or maybe wants to try a sex act or idea that’s outside the box, he gets labeled. The guidebooks, and practically everything else relating to men and sex, seem to be convinced that all guys want to do is “insert, thrust, repeat,” and they think that to speak to men about sex they need to either use pithy, punchy sports euphemisms or employ an overly academic tone. How insulting it all is.

Sexuality is a spectrum of expression for everyone. There will always be new desires to explore and new things to investigate, try, reject, try again…

Fellatio as a sex act is deceptively simple. Just stick your dick into your partner’s waiting mouth—and bam! Right? Well, not quite. There’s plenty to learn about being a great receptive fellatio partner. You’ll be surprised—and aroused—as you find out the many ways that you can receive pleasure through oral stimulation. So, roll up your sleeves, and dig in.

A Prelude to a Kiss

It all begins with desire. Arousal, lust, need, passion, and the specific desire to feel your partner’s mouth envelop your penis and lick your testicles, scrotum, and anus. Or perhaps it’s your partner’s desire that’s doing the talking. At some point in the erotic dance you share with your partner, you’ll know that soon you will be on the receiving end of oral sex.

As they say, it takes two to tango, and you and your lover are two equal halves of the fellatio experience. When you’re with a new partner experimenting with new sexual expressions (such as adding fellatio to your routine), paying attention to what’s going on for both of you is crucial.

The first time I got head, I was utterly terrified after the first 60 seconds—not because I thought I was doing something wrong, but because it didn’t feel good. I mean, it felt OK, but it wasn’t the mind-blowing experience I had been led to believe it would be. As a matter of fact, I was pretty bored. I just lay there while my girlfriend went up and down methodically on my dick...and I started to lose my hard-on long before I was anywhere close to coming. I felt horrible—as if I was doing something wrong. It took me a long time to figure out that getting head is an active process—you have to stay involved with your partner, your fantasy, your erotic connection, or you just become a passive bump on a log, and that’s not sexy at all.

I’m not just talking about physical safety for you and your partner, but the emotional temperature of both participants. If you’re both comfortable with fellatio, have clearly agreed to proceed, and are both fine with the sometimes fuzzy boundaries of control between giver and receiver in the fellatio exchange, then you’re in great shape. But if it’s your first time receiving oral sex or your partner’s first time performing it, if you feel unsure or anxious about something, or if your partner is reluctant for any reason, you’ll need to find out everything you can about your own physical situation, and what’s going on with your partner, before you get started.

First times have that funny catch-22 of being simultaneously scary and unforgettable. With a partner who is giving fellatio for the first time, you’ll want to be more supportive than you would have ever thought necessary—patience, words of encouragement, slow pacing, and the willingness to stop at any time will help ensure a first time you’ll want to remember. If oral sex is something you’ve requested but your partner is reluctant, be aware of the pressure they may be feeling; explore their concerns in conversation, and hand them a chapter of this book to read when they need concrete answers about anything pertaining to fellatio. And understand that some people may never feel completely comfortable with fellatio, for whatever reasons, and that they will need to experience their feelings at their own pace.

If your partner wants to perform oral sex with you, and you feel there’s something bad about sex or your genitals, please tell them so they don’t feel hurt by your rejection of their desires. Or if you’re shy, try handing them a chapter of this book.

Perhaps you’re the one stressing—about receiving oral sex. Anxiety can be no laughing matter when you’re about to have a lover touch, look at, and taste your genitals. Get to the bottom of your stress by finding out what’s interfering with your willingness or ability to receive pleasure. Are you unsure about the notion that your partner wants to put their face between your legs, let alone put your penis in their mouth? Take my word on it—our collective discomfort with our genitals is not limited by gender. Everyone worries about appearance, comparisons, and performance. Whether you’re a newcomer or an experienced recipient of oral pleasure, you might be concerned about how you look, how you respond to the sensations, or what your partner might think about you. So get comfortable, and read on.

How Do I Look?

One absolute fact about the way men’s genitals look is that every single set is different. No two penises are alike, nor do they get hard in the same way. However, the standard operating equipment is more or less the same: a penis (circumcised or not), a scrotal sack containing two testicles, and pubic hair that generally covers the mound over the pubic bone, the very base of the penis, the testicles, and the perineum (from the base of the balls to the anus). The skin on the pubic mound, the perineum, and the anus is similar in texture to the skin on the rest of the body, but usually a different shade. It deepens and changes in color as it reaches the base of the penis and the scrotum, and colors can range anywhere from light pink or peach to a tawny brown or dark chocolate. The texture is soft, and the skin is thin. If you think you may have a problem with your penis, you spot unusual bumps or lesions, there’s a discharge from your urethra, you experience pain during or after sex, or your penis bends sharply upon erection, you should consult a doctor.

Penises come in a variety of shape and size combinations too vast to catalog, and there’s no predicting what a soft penis will look like when erect. Long and thin, short and squat, curved up, down, left, right—it’s all normal. The variations make a man average. And average size? Average depends on whose statistics you’re looking at. A 1993 University of Toronto study of 63 men measured unerect penises along rulers placed at the base, and stretched them to get a range of 2 ⅜ inches to 5 ¼ inches, with 3 ¾ inches being the average. But soft means little when talking about average erect size. Almost forty years ago, Masters and Johnson found that smaller unerect penises grew more than the larger softies—showing that soft penises are no barometer for size. The truth about penis size is that there’s a lot of erection variation out there. But don’t forget—your cock is as big as your brain, meaning that the real measure is the size of the pleasure you give (and receive).