I’ve sucked a lot of dick in my day. And, I’ve been told I’m good at it – probably because I like doing it so much. I love the challenge of seeing how much I can take in my mouth, how deep I can go before choking, I love to bring a man to the edge of cumming and then back off, making him crazy. I like having my mouth fucked til my nose runs. All of it. Its fun.
The other thing I like to do, which I guess sets me apart from many of the blow jobbers out there, is swallow. Its kind of my claim to fame, my signature move. Its the piece de resistance of any decent blow job session, in my opinion. It is loving and kind. But, I’ve come to learn, swallowing is not without its dangers…
The first time I experienced the cum shits was back in 2015. I never eat much before a date because 1. I’m always nervous 2. I don’t want to be farty and 3. it is totally not hot to get thrown up on while being deep throated. That day I had a date with Sven*, a very kind Swede who I’d been seeing for a few weeks. Logistically we were unable to actually fuck (our collective fatness made penetration impossible), but we did a lot of hot toy play and oral. Sven came in my mouth, I swallowed, and soon after he was on his way. About a half an hour later I felt the strong urge to fart, and since I was alone, I let it rip. Friends, it was not a fart but in fact a vicious torrent of liquified shit leaving my body in such a cascade of urgency as I’d never experienced before. I’m pretty sure I shit out things I’d digested in 1993. It was fast, unrelenting. Unmerciful.
I chalked it up to swallowing on an empty stomach and vowed to have a little nosh before I saw Sven the next time. I did. And, same results. Our relationship didn’t last long after that.
I’ve never had this problem with my husband, or with any of the guys who came before or after Sven – until June of 2016. I met Chris*, a cute, younger-than-me Tinder hookup who I agreed to see at a Peets in San Jose because it was close to his house – our texting had been so hot and heavy in the days leading up to our meeting that I was fairly certain we’d get down on that first date. I like to make things easy. As I drove to meet him I ate a turkey sandwich and an oatmeal cookie, had an ice tea. It seemed like decent pre hook up/cum shit preventative meal, which I finished at about 4 in the afternoon.
Chris was as cute as his pics, and as charming in person as he was over text – it didn’t take long to get back to his house and get down to business. He was great in bed – lots of kissing, lots of foreplay, and he fucked me six ways to Sunday…it was about 10pm when, as we took a break from fucking, I decided to be seductive and ask him if he wanted to cum in my pussy, or in my mouth. He chose mouth. I was happy to oblige.
I live in Richmond, which, at 11pm on a Wednesday night is about an hour drive from San Jose. As I passed through Fremont, I got that familiar, hollow, crampy feeling in my lower abdomen. Holy fuck. The Cum Shits were back. I told myself I just had to hold on for a few more miles and soon I’d be in the comfort of my own bathroom. I pressed a little harder on the gas, clenched my cheeks together and tried to breathe through the pain. As the cramps got worse, I knew there was no way I’d make it all the way home. I could try to stop sooner, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold it together long enough to locate an open restaurant or gas station, ask for the key, find the bathroom. And what if someone was already in there? I couldn’t take the risk.
Luckily, my work studio was on the way home, in Berkeley, and I knew no one would be there that late at night. I screeched to a halt in front of the building just as I was no longer able to control myself and got to the bathroom in almost enough time. It was…messy. Let me give a shout out and say, Resolve is not only for carpets. It works just as well on car seats.
So what in the tarnation was going on with me? Why was this happening? Did this happen to other people? WTF? I asked my doctor at Kaiser; she had no answers and only shitty advice – she recommended that I either give blowjobs with a condom, or stop swallowing altogether. Hi? Duh. No.
Thankfully, Dan Savage had answers (and also gave me the title of this blog post):
So there you have it folks. Some guys have more prostaglandins than others, and its just a crap shoot as to which ones do. I haven’t stopped swallowing, and I have no intention to – the only thing I do differently now is that I keep Immodium in both my nightstand and my Ho On The Go kit.
Read the whole Savage Love article here:
*certain identifying characteristics have been changed for privacy