February 9, 2017

SEX ON THURSDAY | What’s the Worst That Can Happen During a Blowjob?

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It’s a question most girls, and probably most guys, wonder.

I’ve always thought of myself as a bit of an anomaly when it comes to oral sex — I really like it. I’ve always liked it. I think that’s because my first time giving a blow job was so casual —  I asked a friend to teach me and it turned out great. Ever since then, I’ve always felt good making other people feel good. And I’ve always been good at it. I know, I know, most girls think they’re good at it, but might not be. But I promise, I’ve watched enough porn to know how to give a pornstar-level blowjob. You have to twist to the sides and your grasp has to be fairly tight. Every few seconds you need a good deep throat. And at the end of a stellar blowjob, I feel like an Olympic medalist, the audience all the little sperm clapping over me. You get the picture.

Now imagine my horror when my pride and joy of oral sex goes terribly wrong. It begins in my dorm while studying abroad last semester: there were two indoor roofs that people would go to for parties or to have dinner together. One afternoon, really hungover, I stumbled onto one of the roofs to heat up my coffee. I was wearing no pants and just a Hogwarts shirt (the roof is usually pretty empty until the evening). To my surprise, there were six Italian guys — sorry, I mean men — studying some form of calculus. They all turn to me, and one of them says, “Good morning.” I was so embarrassed that the only hot guys in my building saw me looking like a mess. Because I’m the person I am, I headed downstairs with my coffee, put on my makeup and chose a cute outfit and 30 minutes later went up to the roof with an empty cup to pretend to heat something up. I was just determined to show them that I’m not quite as hideous as they saw me a half hour before. Lucky for me, we started talking and one of them invited me up to the roof at night, when all of the Italians were throwing a party (see, my neurotic tactics work).

At around midnight and four glasses of wine later, I headed to the roof with some friends. I immediately spot an Italian that I found insanely attractive. Bright eyes, tall, dark features. We hit it off and ventured outside into a large empty storage room. At this point, I’m pretty intoxicated. And when I’m intoxicated, I’m horny. So we started making out, and he asks me to have sex. Being the (I can’t believe I’m still a) virgin that I am, I tell him I can’t, but I can do something else to make him happy. So I did what I usually do and what I’ve done multiple times with pleasure. I kiss his neck, move down to his stomach and then unbutton his pants. I take his boxers off with my teeth, and start giving him a Class-A blowjob. He’s moaning and groaning, and I’m pleased. He pushes me a little too hard when I’m deep throating, but I just swallow some vomit like a champ. Or at least I thought I did.

“Are you serious…did you just puke on me?” Imagine that in an Italian accent, from the hottest guy you’ve ever hooked up with, as you’re pitifully on your knees. I looked down, and indeed, there was some throw up on his leg and pants. Not a lot, but definitely noticeable. I completely panicked. My first instinct was to be like “no…did you just puke on yourself that’s gross,” but I realized that wouldn’t work. My next tactic was blame, so I said “oh, well you pushed me too far.” But he wasn’t buying it: his 5-inch uncircumcised penis wasn’t big enough to be pushed too far. The truth, we both knew, was that I was just too drunk shouldn’t have had a dick in my throat. I was absolutely mortified. How could this happen to me? ME? Queen of blowjobs? I wanted to run out of there, but he needed to use my wine to wipe off the vomit on his leg, so I just stood there with a cone on my head. He was so visibly angry that it made me uncomfortable. I mean I obviously can’t have expected him to ignore it, but I thought maybe we could play it off like a joke. Uh uh. Worst joke of my life. I ran to my room, cried and thought about how disastrous that was. My only solace was knowing that he didn’t live in my dorm, and I would hopefully never see him again.

Until I did. A week later, I saw him on the other roof eating dinner with his friends. I completely ignored him — after all this is MY dorm. I should feel safe in it, and not miserably uncomfortable. Now, looking back, I’m surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. I mean there’s bound to be a moment when you go too far, and I think it’s for both parties to try and make light of it. Because after all, vomit is gross, but so is your dick.

Kitty Kat is a student at Cornell University. Comments can be sent to [email protected]Sex on Thursday runs every other Thursday.