KS and her “Oral” Dissertation

[Another day, another new contributor to Ultraparadoxical!  In the short time I have known her we have had some very interesting conversations, this post is a follow-up to one of them.  As usual my comments in black and her post is in red.  Welcome KS and all her orally suspicious glory!]

A recent discussion with Mr. Ultraparadoxical led to a discussion about oral sex [Pretty much all of my conversations lead to oral sex somehow... weird], during which I made some strong statements.  He responded by asking me to present them to you.

Allow me to begin by saying clearly: THERE ARE men out there who will suffer from none of the below afflictions; men who just sincerely enjoy pleasing a lady and who combine and balance their oral skills with a healthy dosing of, well, dick.

The conversation Mr. U and I were having however was about men who, after repeated sexual encounters with ample opportunities, have not yet tried to have sex (yep, the penis in the vagina kind) but instead enthusiastically insist on pleasuring her orally and then calling it a day. True, as a lady, this should sound nothing but blissful; all the orgasm and none of the effort? Huzzah! Alas, not so simple.

After wondering aloud in many-a-circle of girl friends, I have confirmed a few truths about these sorts of men, the “I just want to please you” type of men, and women far and wide agree that there are three conclusions to be had.  First, numbers one and two:

  1. He has a small penis… and he knows it
  2. He has and STD… and he’s waiting for the right time to tell you about it

For girls in our early and mid twenties they encompassed every reasonable possibility.  Not everyone in their twenties has seen as much ass as has Mr. U, and it’s perfectly rational to expect that some men (and women), having not yet come into their own sexual confidence and comfort, would feel slightly insecure about what they bring to the table.  [Special personal note to Mr. U:  I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from learning the term “Arby’s Vagina.”

If college age women catch wind of that euphemism, I think we can safely expect that dorm room sex will plummet and emotional eating will rise.]  If a man is concerned that he’s bringing something less than average to the table, it seems reasonable that he would try to keep it under his hat (if his hat were his pants) for as long as he could in the hopes that he wins the poor gal over with his stellar personality and his incredible oral talents.

Further, we’re a dirty generation. We are. If everyone who had the clap was actually clapping the volume would be profound [That begs the philosophical question... what's the sound of one STD clapping?].  And holy shit, imagine the cacophony if we went ahead and attributed a sound to each affliction! You there, with the herpes, yep – I want you to snap, slowly, like a beatnik… Christ, we’d all be deafened.  There are so many STD’s stuck to our collective genitalia that my gynecologist has switched from trying to scare the bejesus out of me about contracting one (circa 1996) to congratulating me profusely each time I again test clear (circa three weeks ago) because she just “can’t believe it’s actually possible to avoid them anymore.”  So, when you think about it, the numbers are against you.  Therefore, when your date seems to be undeniably avoiding touching his contagious parts to yours, an STD stall is a statistical reality.

These two reasons served me pretty well as a young pup. I would toss them at girlfriends who phoned out of desperate sexual frustration and we’d bat them around a bit, making guesses about whether or not he had a visible STD or a visible penis, for that matter.  But then our 30s began to approach, and with that, the men coming in and out of our lives began to age and explanation number three came into clear sights:

  1. He’s impotent… and he knows it.

It’s not just grandpa [or your pre-op tranny grandma] who suffers from erectile dysfunction. Reports are coming in from all over the place of men in their 30s and 40s who suffer from the inability to muster up a useful erection (or keep one), and it isn’t all chalked up to Whiskey Dick [Also the original title for Herman Melville's classic novel until he finally settled on Moby Dick].  Maybe it’s all the garbage he ate in college, smothered in condiments and loosely labeled “food”; maybe it’s how much of his circulation has been going to his hands to help him crush it on his Xbox for 12 hours a week; maybe it’s something his therapist said, or a position in his yoga class.  Maybe he’s an emotional mess, or he smashed his cock and balls up at a rodeo and they’ve never been the same again.  Impotence seems to be on the rise (don’t hate me for the pun) as we age.  After enough reported cases my gaggle of girlfriends and I added it to The Essential Short List of Go-To Explanations.

There will be the occasional outlier.  You may stumble upon a virgin (Lord help you, or rather- him) who hopes keeping his penis in his pants will still get him a wristband at the pearly gates, or a married man who doesn’t think a little yodeling into the gully of a stranger counts as cheating on his (as yet undisclosed) wife.

Finally, allow me to quickly note why the all-oral-until-the-time-is-right approach is a failed approach: I’m not going to eventually find your gonorrhea as endearing as your dimples, no matter how many times you’ve gotten me off with your mouth.  There’s only one way to know whether or not I’m the type of girl who doesn’t have a size (or firmness) requirement, and it has nothing to do with romantic walks on the beach followed by champagne and gentle licking.  So, slip me some firm, clean cock to remind me that I’m not actually in the home of a highly deceiving dike [Be sure to check out Oprah's new autobiography, "Highly Deceiving Dike".. in stores soon!], and then go back to your business if you like—and make me pay for questioning you if you want (is there such a thing as angry mouth sex?).  I promise once I know I don’t need to complain or worry, I won’t, and then you can rightfully take your place as a God among men. See? Everybody wins.

2 Responses to “KS and her “Oral” Dissertation”

  1. [...] about a collaborating on a project for a while now.  You may remember KS from her last post here.  After many back and forth conversations through email we finally settled on something that we [...]

  2. [...] how should I use the freedom that I have built my life around?  I recently received an email from KS and a line from that email struck me: Hope the rest of your weekend was a success – booze, ladies [...]

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