Deepthroating. Not everyone can do it. Not everyone wants to do it. For some it may repulse, gag, disgust, and as a concept – let alone an action – may be completely irrelevant. You don’t have to love cock to be thinking about this. Cock may not be your thing, but that doesn’t matter when it comes to swallowing it whole. But what is IT? What are you steadfastly refusing to take all in, in your life?
The metaphor and symbolism of deepthroating, I wholly acknowledge to be inspired by the work of Kim Anami. I can’t remember quite how I stumbled upon her, but as soon as I listened to and read what she had to say, I was in. I’ve done her Well-fucked Woman course. Worth every penny; it truly is an investment in your Self. Kim talks about being ‘all in’ – fully into your life, otherwise you’re waaaay selling yourself short. And you’re bullshitting yourself. You’re avoiding, denying, running, procrastinating and subverting all the power that you have. Sexual power, sexual energy, is creative energy. It is master energy. Sexual energy is the energy that creates life. We would not exist if it did not exist. The Universe is as sex-mad and pleasure-obsessed as we are. I don’t believe that God is out to punish, hurt, and blame us. The Universe as the ultimate creator, inspiring us through love, through pleasure, through sex. Pleasure in being alive, let alone pleasure in creative acts and sexual acts such as taking a cock in your mouth.
Do I swallow life whole? No, I don’t. I still resist. I still gag at particular events or situations I have created. I create my own reality; I do. We all do. Technically, it’s co-creation with the Universe at our side, holding our hand. But when I stray off track, when I pull at the hand and say “I want to go this way” and I ignore the gentle tug to head the other way, I lose the flow. I forget the connection. The connection is still there – absolutely, but I am so far in my own head and up my own ass, that I arrogantly assume that I know what’s best for myself. I refuse to tolerate difficult states, difficult feelings. I’m suddenly standing in front of a cock I don’t like – it’s looks funny, it smells funny, it seems forceful and aggressive and somehow cut off from its owner – and I’m refusing to take it in. Into my mouth, my body, my life; because maybe it’s the wrong cock for me when I thought it was the right one.
What holds me back? Have I ever been all in? I have always loved cock – and loved life – and I have felt ashamed of this cock-love. Far less ashamed now, at age 43, after years and years of work on myself. I’m still an ongoing project, we all are. I seem to go in and out of flow. I seem to mistrust, doubt and lose faith in the Universe sometimes. I question, I argue, I bang my head against a brick wall. I find myself sucking a cock I don’t want to. Closing up my mouth, resisting, pulling back, fighting, gagging. If I’m fighting, I’m not flowing. If it’s the wrong cock, what did I do to get here? The right cock makes me want to take it all in. I want to see it, touch it, lick it, suck it, swallow it, allow it inside every part of me. I want the body and the mind attached to the cock; I want to be part of giving and sharing the pleasure I can offer when I welcome a beautiful cock. The wrong cock is the wrong path, and I have wandered off again.
This is where I get stuck. A good cock will make my pussy wet. The voice and words of the man attached to the cock will do this. The right man. Sucking the cock of the right man will also do this. A man I may not have consciously chosen, but, casting aside my own shallow and selfish desires and staying literally open, the right man appears. The wrong man, the wrong cock, will dry me up. Dry up my life. If I were a man, this would look like a weak cock: unable to get erections, unable to keep erections, unable to come, unable to delay coming, coming too quickly, blind to a woman’s body and needs, jackhammering a pussy and so forth. A refusal to embody masculinity in the same way I at times refuse to embody my femininity. This man – if heterosexual – might find tasting pussy vulgar. Or he might believe the pussy is there only to serve him (casting aside power exchange dynamics in a consensual D/s interaction; that is fucking hot). He might be wooden, stiff, rigid, and arrogant. He might lack courage, inner fortitude and self-belief. He might be violent. He’s refusing to allow in watery flow, softness and feeling. He is just as rejecting as she (me) may be when refusing to take in all the cock.
I’m resisting life-cock right now. The real cock I have in my life I can’t get enough of. At times I marvel (we both do) at how far I can take in his cock into my mouth. It is deeply satisfying to do this. Yet I am gagging on some areas of my life that I just can’t believe I am in. And I feel stupidly blind to alternatives which I know must exist. It’s during these periods of life that finding little snippets of daily pleasure are more important than ever. When life seems devoid of pleasure (and I say seems because there is always always opportunities for pleasure), it becomes crucial to finds cracks of light of pleasure to remind me of the outside world. That the world is waiting for me to come swallow it whole. I just have to remember that it’s there. And if it’s not, change it. Because I can….