Blow Jobs: A Tale of two Cities: How 2 Give The Best Blow J’s (CAUTION: VERY DESCRIPTIVE) NC-17 pt. 1

My Grandmother always told me the way to a mans heart is through his stomach. She may have been a little behind the times. Unfortunately for me, I can’t cook. I mean, I can make a mean pop tart, but that’s about it. However, while dating my very first boyfriend in high school, I discovered new tips, tricks and talents about how to get to a mans heart without having to sweat over an oven or bust through his ribcage. I don’t believe these special talents were around when my grandmother was going to school. This special talent is referred to as a Blow Job, which I find a wee bit misleading.

First of all, you’re not “blowing” anything. Can you imagine having a chick blowing on your junk like it was a harmonica? Secondly, if you find it to be a “Job,” or a chore, then don’t be surprised when he pays a stripper $5 to give him the best oral sex he’s ever had. And trust me, she will. Then he’ll come home to you after getting his brains blown two ways from sunday, while trying desperately to come up with a believable story as to why he’s broke and just getting home at 4:00am, which is extremely hard to do when you’re exhausted from your cum coma. “Doing what? Reading The Giving Tree?”

Women who don’t give head are usually women who don’t enjoy receiving head either. YAWN. I, however, LOVE give head. I like the way it feels getting hard in my mouth and I love the dominating position I’m in because lets face it, ladies, give your man head means he’s in control. He has you on your knees or in some other awkward position, giving you directions, moaning your name (if you’re REALLY good at it), and trust me, there’s nothing better than having a man moan your name or levitate off the bed, which has happened during my, what I like to refer to as, my religious experiences. Watching their toes curl and their legs flex, they can barely take it. That’s when I know I’m in control. I control his pleasure

Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE sex, but giving head makes me incredibly wet. Soaked. It’s as if someone took a super soaker to my vagina. And by nature, I’m a pleaser. I don’t stop giving head until that man has cum. I never leave anything half assed. If you’re going to start it, “Finish Him.” And when he has finally let go and is in that state of euphoria, you will never witness a man so tender, so loving. He will praise your every stroke, every move you made with your mouth and go on and on about how he’s never had a blow job like that before. Afterwards, you should ask him to write a Yelp review for you. 😉

Not all blow jobs are the same. It takes practice and years of critique to be the Bruce Lee of oral sex. Blow Jobs are for teenagers, drunk at a shitty high school party doing keg stands. When giving head, listen to your dude and the sounds he makes. If the guy is a dead fish then abort mission because this dude would rather enjoy getting head from the quarterback on his team.

And don’t be afraid to ask for directions. Ask him what he likes or doesn’t like. Listen to his moans and pay attention to how his body reacts when you try something different. I think It’s incredibly hot watching a mans entire body tense up and his toes curl. I don’t mean to brag, well…yes I do, but I have never had one boyfriend complain about my head game. I’ve given two blow jobs to two different people in less than an hour. I am the Mr. Miyagi of blow jobs.

I never rush through it. I kiss down their chest. I unzip their paint slowly. Pull down their boxer briefs, which I believe every man should wear (unless you want to look like Benjamin Button at 35 years old). I slowly pull them down, but I don’t put him in my mouth right away. I breathe my warm,hot breath on the tip of his head and then I proceed to lick him from his shaft to the tip of his head. I suck slowly on the tip of his head because the most sensitive part of a mans penis. Then, before he realizes what’s happening, I push his head into my mouth. Just his head.

Now ladies (and gents), pay close attention, your hand is your best friend. Many of you are so concerned and focused on pleasing him with your mouth that you forget you have an entire body to use. Especially your hands. Use your hands to stroke his shaft and cup his balls. Not all men are into having their balls played with, so, make sure this is a discussion you have before you begin. Communication is everything. Your hands give him the feeling that you’re going deeper than you really are.

An element of surprise when it comes to sex is HOT. I dated this guy two years ago and I would give him what I would call “Ambush Blow Jobs.” He would just be getting home from work, my unsuspecting victim, and I would unbuckles his pants, get on my knees and blow all the stress of the day out of his mind. Don’t forget the occassional eye contact. Don’t stare at him the whole time, just once in a while. And if your mouth needs a small break, that doesn’t mean order food from EAt24. Don’t stop. Pull your mouth away, look him in the eyes and don’t be afraid to talk dirty, really dirty.

Continue to stroke him while you talk dirty and as I stated before, this is not a JOB regardless of what the title says. You do not get a half hour break for lunch. Give your mouth a rest, lick the very tip of his cock, stroke him and talk dirty like you just got back from the Bunny Ranch.

I’ve never been a fan of lube. When it comes to being natural, I use spit. It doesn’t stain the sheets and it doesn’t taste like grape soda that’s been sitting out in the sun for three days. Ick. Why would you want to ingest lube in the first place. Lots of Saliva is the magic key to the land of OZ. Drinking lots of water will help to keep you hydrated so that you don’t get dry mouth. Not to mention drinking plenty of water is great for your skin. But I digress…

“What do I do about the big finish???” Again, this is a conversation that needs to be had before you gobble his sack like a thanksgiving turkey. If you don’t swallow, no biggie, but be sure to have a bunch of baby wipes handy and close by. Men are usually just grateful to receive a blow job and the oral sex gentleman will gladly give you a warning when he’s about to cum, leaving it up to you. If you happen to be feeling froggy then jump. If you’re not there yet mentally, then away his bat signal, his moans will become louder and your womanly instincts will let you know when to pull away. However, don’t pull away and run off to clean up. Continue to play with his cock. Stroke his shaft from the bottom to the top and get every last drop out of him. He may be sensitive, so, go slow.

Cleaning him up will be the most lady like thing you’ve done since wrapping your pretty little mouth around him.

Now, here’s a couple Fay Tips: 1. Don’t be shut off if he happens to fall right to sleep after experiencing his “Religious Experience.” He’s in a cum coma and there will be no waking him. An ex of mine was having insomnia once and had to be up early. So, I put him to bed and very coquettishly whispered, “Baby, I think you need a blow job.” Ten minutes later, he came and fell right to sleep.
Fay Tip: 2 Make sure he eats a lot of pineapple. This will make his cum taste incredibly sweet and if you if swallowing wasn’t your thing then, it will be now, but in order for this to work, he must eat pineapple everyday.

*Hope you enjoyed Part 1 of how to give the best oral sex.*
*Part 2 will be how to avoid giving the worst head…ever.*

My Battle Struggle…

I wake up every morning to a battle. A battle within myself. A battle I created. I struggle trying to figure out who I am, not only to myself, but who other people think I am. I battle my mind, my heart, my soul and my true feelings. Feelings. I play my feelings pretty close to my chest. I was told by my mother, when I was very young, to never let people get too close or give them any information they may use as ammo against me in the future. I have been following this advice since I was fourteen years old and I’m not sure if it has protected me or ruined me.

I’ve had a few slips and have given in to friends or lovers because they made me feel safe and protected. They made me feel as though I no longer had to wear my armour, which has proven my mother right. Eventually all the wrongs I’ve committed, mistakes I’ve made, the insecurities I allowed them to see, were all used against me as ammunition. And I sat there, taking every bullet like rapid fire. I didn’t even bother to fight back. I had already lost the battle by revealing my strategies to these people who were never friends or lovers, but enemies.

The same person who warned me to never reveal too much about myself to anyone, is also the same person who taught me to never show weakness. The predators of the world emerge at the very sign of weakness. They can smell it and like snakes slithering in tall grass, they come out of hiding. It’s better to show strength even if you have to fake it. But I’ve been faking my strength for so long that I’ve lost myself. I fake my strength and I fake my feelings. I have faked my feelings for so long that I can no longer tell if I’m hurt, angry, happy or in love. Numb is what I feel.

Feeling numb, feeling nothing or not knowing what to feel, this has been my armour. In the past year, I’ve been had, I’ve been used and abused both verbally and mentally by Friend, lover, boyfriend, it’s irrelevant. They were people that I cared for, trusted and loved. I gave them all of me. The good, the bad and the ugly. My kindness was taken for weakness and I will never allow that to happen again. Even now I have revealed too much. Normally I save such things for my journal entries where no one can see or read the truth. So, why am I sharing this now?

I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be vulnerable. I don’t even know or remember what it’s like to just be held by someone who truly gives a shit about you and will just hold you and allow you to be completely vulnerable. And before any of you jump to your lame conclusions about porn being the reason that I’m like this, you can shut the fuck up with your bullshit theory. Porn had nothing to do with this. Porn has never been my battle or my struggle. I have no demons when it comes to porn. I’m not sure where my demons came from, but their numbers are growing.

Anyway. Before I reveal too much…

(if you can relate, feel free to share your thoughts)

Before Porn, There Was The Nine to Five

The first job I ever had was working at the Brunswick Bowling alley in Murrieta. I was fifteen years old and excited about being that much closer to my independence. I worked the snack bar and for those of you who have had the unfortunate luck of serving in the fast food industry, I feel your pain. It was disgusting and I had a hard time masking my disgust to customers. My manager was a cunt who would sneak into the back freezer to chow down on ice cream. I lasted two weeks.

*Update: To this day, that shitty manager, (whom I also went to high school with), still works at the bowling alley. She’s been promoted to Bartender.*

My second job came after high school graduation, while I was waiting for classes to begin in San Diego. I worked at this lovely little candy shop, “The Chocolate Florist.” We sold chocolate covered strawberries, ice cream, and novelty items. And by that I mean, we had edible penises in both white and dark chocolate, as well as edible vaginas and boobs. They were famously known for their novelty chocolates. The place was run and owned by an old lady from Germany and her husband, whom I never saw. Working with her was a nightmare. It was as though she went out of her way to make you feel worthless, lazy or not smart enough for the job. I was there for three months until she decided to fire me. Her reasons were extremely vague, but she did promise to write me a good reference.

*Update: The Chocolate Florist was bought and sold and is now a health food store, with fresh fruits and veggies. All the chocolate penises and vaginas are forever lost.*

It’s probably every young girls dream, who is fresh out of high school, to work at a trendy clothing store. You get to wear their product and receive 10% off, while listening to loud music and having first dibs on the new product coming out. I must have applied to all the hot, trendy, only-cool-kids-shop-here-stores. But alas, I was never the cool kid.

As a last resort I dropped off an application to this store called Izod. If you’re a golfer, please refrain from creaming your Fruit of The Looms. (Quick History: Yes, Izod used to be the little alligator that I was printed on every shirt. However, Lacoste bought the alligator many years ago. So, in place of the hip alligator is now a golfer). This would become my place of work fort two years. We sold golf clothes, golf socks, sweaters, pants that only your grandmother would wear and we were forced to listen to music that was specifically made for our older customers. And yes, you had to wear the Izod brand from head to toe. I went from a sales associate, to a floor supervisor and eventually became an assistant manager. I loved the people I worked with and the store manager became my close friend. One day, I fucked up on payroll hours and the district manager fired me right on the spot. Three days later she wanted me back and for a while I continued to work there, but became bored and unhappy. So, I QUIT.

*Update: This particular Izod was eventually forced to close up shop permanently for not making enough money.*

While working at Izod, I was hired for seasonal at See’s Candies. If you’ve ever been to a See’s Candies, please take notice of the embarrassing uniform the employees have to wear. We always had to wear pantyhose, as well as slips and black shoes. Our hair had to be clean and in a bun. I had hair below my fucking ass! So, just throwing it up in a bun was a damn nightmare. Aside from the atrocious uniforms, I actually enjoyed working there. It was around the holidays and we were busy from the moment we opened our doors to closing. It was fast paced and the hours just flew by. The pay was pretty excellent, too. However, working at any job during the holidays brings out the worst of the worst human beings. I had never experienced such rude customers in all my life until I worked at See’s Candies. When the holidays finally came to a close, the manager asked me to stay on. I did for a while. But suddenly, we weren’t so busy anymore and the days and hours would drag on and on. I was bored, bored, bored. So, without much notice, I quit.

*Update: See’s Candies is, well, actually nothing has changed. They’re still selling candy and I don’t believe there will be an upgrade to their employee uniforms anytime soon.

Does anybody here have a mother, father, grandparent with a heart stent(s)? Well, long before porn, I used to work at Guidant, which specialized in making heart stents for people and other such medical shit I can’t remember. I heard that the hours were long, but the pay was excellent. Before you could get hired, you had to pass a week long training program, which you were also being paid for. Once you passed the class, you were able to choose day shift or night shift. Both shifts are twelve hours long. I chose day shift, which meant that I began work from 4am-4pm. We had to dress head to toe in protective wear so that we would not introduce any bacteria into the lab. After all, these heart stents are going into people’s bodies. So safety measures went above and beyond. We were an assembly line of robots. My partner, who had been working there the longest, was going to teach me how to clean all the tools we used and that station we worked on. There was a certain way to clean and it was the ONLY way. However, my partner barely spoke english and I cold tell she hated my ass. I’d probably hate me too. I would fuck up. A lot. Many heart stents were unusable because of me. If you break too many heart stents, they eventually take it out of your check. I worked there for a month and hated everything about it. One day, I told my supervisor I had to use the ladies room and I never came back.

*Update: Guidant was recently sold to Abbott.*

After cruising through limbo for a little while, getting drunk on the weekends, sleeping in late, I finally ran out of money. A friend suggested applying at a casino, but warned me that the casino where me and said friend used to party almost every weekend, does not allow their employees to hang out there on their days off. Screw that. So, I drove a little further to the next casino…

Nestled in the hills, surrounded by trees and the scariest highway you’ll ever drive on, was Pala Casino. I filled out the application, had my interview right then and there, they took some hair for their drug test and a week later I was hired as a Motor Coach Greeter. Sounds like a made up position, but that’s what I was. Yes, the uniforms were a bit dorky, but I had worn much worse. And I got to have a “walkie-talkie,” which was cool and stuff. My job, along with a few others, was to greet the buses filled with people from all walks of life. Our job was to make sure they passengers visiting Pala Casino for the day had their ID and/or Players Cards and if they did not have a Players Card, we would make one for them. There were other little tid bits to the job, but they’re irrelevant here. The cool part about this job was not having to be inside the casino. We were all camped out outside. My shift was 8am-4:30pm. We had roughly twelve busses come through in the morning and night shift would make sure all twelve buses and their passengers were accounted for when they left. Very easy job. I’d say it was even one of my favorite jobs. I was with Pala for eight months. I had just turned twenty-two and was feeling restless and bored. Planning my next escape. Oddly enough, my escape found me. In the form of a Myspace message.

I had attended a Halloween party dressed as a little school girl. My friend took several pictures of me dressed as this innocent catholic school girls and one of the pictures ended up being my avatar picture for my Myspace profile. A week or so later I received an email from an agent in Chatsworth who said I had the look that she wanted. Young, fresh, girl next door type. The agent didn’t sugarcoat anything and told me exactly what it was her agency did and the type of girls they represented. It didn’t even phase me. We set up a meeting and two weeks later I was on my way to Porn Valley. At the time I was still with the casino and had no intentions of quitting. I spoke with this agent for a couple hours, talking about what I will and will not do, my rates etc. I told her that I definitely wanted to give it a shot and she told me that if it wasn’t for me I could leave.

After setting up a photo shoot, picking my stage name and uploading the pictures to the agency website, I got into my car and drove home thinking it would probably be weeks before I got booked for anything. Days later I was booked for my first BG porn shoot for Vivid. I was amazed at how fast It was.

On my way home from set I knew that I wanted to be a part of this industry. This is what I wanted to do. The next day I walked into human resources at the casino and told them I was leaving. I signed a few papers and I was out the door in less than ten minutes.

Six years later I’m still here and still loving it. I may have acted on impulse, but I wouldn’t change anything. I may fly very low under the radar, but it’s been one hell of an adventure.