“The best blow job” will haunt me forever

Image by the brilliant Stuart F Taylor

A few weeks back, I gave the best blow job I’ve ever given. Apparently. I don’t like writing that down so starkly – it’s far easier to talk about how mediocre I am in bed, or how incompetent I am with certain sex toys.

But I’m writing it because the sentence itself will spin round in my head forever. I don’t want anyone to tell me that anything was ‘the best blow job ever’, because I’m primed to root through any compliment until I eventually find a negative. And so this week I’m tortured by this one simple fact:

None of my other blow jobs were as good as that one. 

What makes the best blow job?

Regular readers will know that the best blow job is a totally subjective thing. I could replicate what I did on that day, and have some of you panting with desire and others shrugging your shoulders. There’s no formula for the best blow job any more than there’s a recipe for the perfect ice cream or a picture of the prettiest sunset.

Blow jobs are art.

But for the record, all I did was suck his dick much more slowly than usual, taking time to spit and tease and get the whole thing wet. Giving it hard sucks in a gentle but steady rhythm, and edging over and over again.

Think of it like a poem: each stanza has a slow but deliberate pace, with slight variations. One might have more tongue laid flat against the underside of the head, while another incorporates a cupped, wet fist around the base. The first stanza is long, and builds to an almost-climax, then there’s a pause before the second.

Each gets shorter, the pace of the poem builds, and the audience is waiting on the edge of their seats expecting the final couplet any minute.

As you can tell, from my loving explanation, I very much enjoyed giving that blow job. Nevertheless, despite how fun it was, and the spunk-pumping effect it had on him, I’m still devastated to learn that it was the best blow job I’ve ever given.

Peak blow jobs

I’ve sucked quite a lot of dick. Barring occasional bad audiences or problems with the flu, I’ve nearly always enjoyed giving blow jobs. And for that reason, I’ve given quite a few.

I love experimenting with different techniques and speeds. I adore that first ever suck job that you give someone new, particularly if they’re someone who gives lots of feedback. Hearing their ‘umms’ and ‘aaahs’ and ‘oh fuckfuckfuck don’t stop’s.

You can learn a hell of a lot about someone’s sexual tastes from how they like getting their dick sucked. Fast, slow, dominant, submissive, hard, gentle. Do they want to hear me choke, or would they rather I was silent? When I look up at them, what do they want to see in my eyes – lust? Nervousness? Eagerness? Excitement? Who am I play-acting here? A horny temptress, a nervous ingenue, a skilled professional? What – if I may be so terribly wanky – is my motivation?

All these things and more are running through my head when I’m sucking dick. And yeah, alongside those things there’s definitely a hint of pride: I am good at this. I am good at this. I have toiled for years to get what I feel is really fucking good at this. I haven’t discovered the perfect technique, because as I say – that doesn’t exist. But I listen, I learn, I try new things, and hopefully along the way I make people happy.

So why in the living name of FUCK is that the best blow job I’ve given? At the age of THIRTY FUCKING TWO?!

I know this particular guy well. VERY well. If you’ve read my book then it’s the man you’re thinking of. If you haven’t read my book then go buy it already and come back when you’re caught up. But I’ve been with him for long enough that I’d like to think I’d reached peak blow job long before this, and I was simply hovering somewhere around the ‘peak blow job’ plateau, giving endless and interesting head honed over years of trial and error.

But what if I have only one ‘best blow job’ in me, and all others will simply fall short?

Plato’s blow job

Philosopher and beard-owner Plato talks of ideal ‘Forms’ that exist outside our world. Your chair is different to that stool over there, but you understand that they’re both chairs because both of them echo some properties that are also present in the ideal form ‘Chair’. So somewhere probably outside our universe there exists a chair that embodies every single perfect detail of ‘chair-ness’, and yours is simply an imperfect copy.*

If Plato were right (which he isn’t, but who am I to criticise – I fell asleep in most of my Plato lectures) then there would potentially be a perfect blow job alongside all the other perfect forms. Outside this universe, the concept of the ‘perfect blow job’ would exist, floating around with other perfect concepts – the ideal horror movie, for instance, or the superlative block of cheese. Perhaps even the nebulous ‘real woman‘ we hear so much about in the media.

This is all well and good if you’re Plato, but if you’re a person like me who wants to achieve the best blow job ever, it’s all a little disturbing. What’s more, I am a teeny bit annoyed with Plato for ever bringing up the idea that ‘perfection’ could ever exist outside of maths.

Yes, I overthink things. But what I’m getting at is that as soon as we introduce the idea of ‘perfection’ into sex, suddenly we’re buried in an avalanche of horrifying possibilities.

The problem with perfection

If, as I suspect, that was the best blow job I’ve ever given, then who is to say that it doesn’t represent as close as I’ll ever get to perfection? What if that is the most joy I will ever give someone with my mouth, and it’s all downhill from here?

What if I try and try and try for years, and never quite live up to that amazing climactic moment?

Or – and here’s the worst – what if I’ll match that blow job, and even exceed it, but simply by labelling that specific one ‘the best blow job’, the guy in question never considers any others to be in the running? Like how your childhood Christmases feel perfect and special in your mind, but if you could relive them again as an adult you’d realise they were actually a bit shit and your Aunt Maureen used to wind up your Mum but you were simply too young to notice?

Even worse – perhaps the best blow job, seeing as it doesn’t exist, is something which can only ever exist in our minds. Alongside Plato’s other ideal forms, such as the best chair and the prettiest sunset. We suck, spit, grip, wank and swallow in a futile attempt to get closer to a perfection that doesn’t exist. And every time we use words like ‘best’ or ‘perfect’ we risk ruining the joy and nuance of sex by setting every individual act on a sliding scale from ‘flawless’ to ‘failure’.

There never was a perfect blow job – just a guy with excessive enthusiasm and a girl who was proud of her work.

(If you want to hear more about Plato, and why ‘forms’ are interesting even though obviously they’re complete bollocks, you should listen to Natalie Haynes Stands Up For The Classics which is on iPlayer at the moment)

14 Comments

  • Peter says:

    I enjoy your neurotic in-depth mental cyclone spawned from a sentence uttered in the post orgasmic glow of what sounds like a very well preformed blowjob. It reminds me of what I talk about when high…lol.

    Setting aside the issue of the blowjob being “the best” or not, I was struck with your comment that you have “Toiled for years,” at being good at blowjobs. I want to personally thank you for this. I take pride in eating pussy and finger play. I have read books on this, articles, I have mentally practiced while sitting in continuing education lectures. I have experimented on women, asked what they like and do not like, I got good at it! I take a lot of pride in feeling a woman cum from my mouth and finger work.

  • rare deeds says:

    You need to grab yourself some process ontology, GotN – then it’ll all be about the becoming, not the being.

    (hot post btw – I do like how giving the best blow job, *ever*, has left you fuming)

    ((feeling perkily smug here for ignoring the crassly obvious process ontology pun))

  • Who me? says:

    I ate the best bacon and egg sandwich ever in 1985. I had worked all weekend, and things were looking OK when there was a ‘left field’ unrelated systems crash. I ended up.working all night, and by 8 a.m all looked OK again.
    I was exhausted; the hum of fluorescent lights drilled into my head, far more machine coffee than was good for me gnawed at my gut.

    As I stepped out into a cool spring day the smell of fresh grilled bacon caught me. The ‘Batch Van’. Two slices of fresh springy white bread, butter, bacon – the fat just crisp, the meat melting – and an egg with crisped white and runny yolk. Cut in half, eaten sitting in the weak sunshine off a paper plate….. It was “the best”. Ever. And ever since.
    But you know, I think the batch man did them like that pretty much all the time; he was good, used quality ingredients, made fresh, cared about his work. I just so needed it, at that time, and in that place, and he was there with it, and gave it me. I have remembered it and him for over 30 years.

    Perfect.

    • Girl on the net says:

      I think this might be my favourite comment of all time. You’re absolutely spot on that need makes a big difference.

      Now I’m hungry though =)

      • Lee says:

        I respectfully draw attention to the axiom:

        “Hunger is the best sauce” 😈

        Wether that’s for bacon or blowjobs. 😉

  • I suspect that this particular blow-job surpassed your previous bests in some unfathomable way that caused the planets to align.

    While it may have been the “best blow-job ever”, such things are transient. The reality is that it is simply the “best blow-job” so far. You might very well set a new personal best the next time you suck him off.

    Onwards and upwards… ;)

    KW

  • Ah…the blow job as poetry unfolding…such an artfully crafted metaphor for an artful activity. I hadn’t thought of it that way. And it does change the perspective. I needed that.

  • Liza says:

    That maybe the best so far, but this is a field that everyone wants to improve more and more. Yes, of course we too will be proud if we finish an awesome suck. May be a secret pride. Wish you beat your record next time girl…

  • Garry says:

    Being on the receiving end of a nice blowjob is a transcendent experience. I’m not a poet. Other than grunting and gasping; “that was the best blowjob ever” is all I can say. Pretty much every time!

    Just try to take joy in the fact that you sucked him so well that the blood drained out of his brain and rendered him incoherent.

  • SpaceCaptainSmith says:

    This is not the greatest blow job in the world; this is just a tribute…

  • test acc says:

    And some women hate donig it :(

    • Girl on the net says:

      Yeah – everyone has different preferences. Plenty of people dislike giving head (to women too). Just got to find out what you and your partner both like.

  • oodles says:

    This is fascinating. I wish I enjoyed giving. I’m trying.

  • John says:

    Wow – you are a keeper. A woman who takes pride in the perfect blow job. Please let me know if you get a little rusty and need some practice. I could use a good blow job!

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