Bridget Phetasy: ‘Why I Do Give Blowjobs’

“Oh my God, please, please.” the man I’m currently blowing breathlessly begs. His desperate pleas make me wet. I enjoy every minute of his extended torture. I like to drag it out. Lick his inner thigh.

Kiss his hip. Tickle his balls. Lick his shaft. Breathe on his head. Make him squirm. Plead. Writhe in agony until I finally take his entire penis in my mouth.

“Oh my God. Oh my God…” his body shakes as my mouth fills with his life force. “I can’t feel my face. I can’t feel my face,” he repeats over and over.

I feel a surge of energy radiate up my spine as he lies there exposed, whimpering in ecstasy, drained.

I’m going to be disowned for saying this publicly, but someone with a vagina who isn’t in the adult film industry has to do it, so here we go:
I LOVE giving blowjobs.

I got to thinking about this after Alison Stevenson explained in Vice “Why I Don’t Give Blowjobs.”
Many women found this statement emboldening and relatable—so let’s be very clear—I’m not here to throw these women under the bus. If a woman finds power in “no more blow jobs,” then more power to her. But, hey, let’s not throw blowjobs under the bus, too. I find blessing a man with the art of fellatio incredibly arousing and immensely empowering.

As a sexually curious, perpetually guilt-ridden Catholic schoolgirl I remember experiencing two feelings surrounding my blossoming sexual curiosity: lust and shame. Before the days of easy-access adult content online, I had to learn about sex the old-fashioned way—by reading old Playboys in the woods and watching the snowy, scrambled channel that would have been Skinemax (had we subscribed) while listening to the snow-people go all the way. I had to imagine what they were doing to one another (their distorted images the perfect visual manifestation of the shame I felt the entire time).
I could usually tell when the snow-people were fornicating, but there was always that point when I heard the tormented moans of the man and yet nothing from the woman. Just slurps and male groans.
What on earth was she doing that made the snowman so desperate? Fellatio.

Very few things in the universe render men as vulnerable and powerless as the blowjob. If you have a “yes or no” question, and you desire a “yes” – I have found that this is your moment to ask.
An incredible hummer will inspire men to leave work early, miss the big game, cross oceans or even (gasp) go to the opera. Trust me. My ex-husband called mine “World Famous,” and I’ve seen “The Marriage of Figaro” twice.
I fell in love with the blowjob not just because how else could a good, guilt-ridden Catholic girl like me put off having actual sex but also because I truly get off on being able to drive a man temporarily insane.
The moment is incredible.
“Oh my God, please, please.” the man I’m currently blowing breathlessly begs. His desperate pleas make me wet. I enjoy every minute of his extended torture. I like to drag it out. Lick his inner thigh.
Kiss his hip. Tickle his balls. Lick his shaft. Breathe on his head. Make him squirm. Plead. Writhe in agony until I finally take his entire penis in my mouth.
“Oh my God. Oh my God…” his body shakes as my mouth fills with his life force. “I can’t feel my face. I can’t feel my face,” he repeats over and over.
I feel a surge of energy radiate up my spine as he lies there exposed, whimpering in ecstasy, drained.
It’s POWER. Sheer, unadulterated, Ancient Goddess, Divine Feminine, power. I’m a channel for womanly sexuality across time. I’m a 16th century Venetian cortigiana onesta or Helen of Troy or Cleopatra. This is my birthright, my gift. This isn’t simply cramming a penis in your mouth. This is having a man by the balls.
I realize for some, the idea that fellatio isn’t just about male gratification turns the idea of a blowjob on its head (pun intended), and I hesitated to even write this piece for many good reasons:
First of all, I know I’m going to take heat from feminists on this one. I will attempt to preempt their rage by saying this: a large part of the feminist movement is a woman’s ability to be honest about what she wants and what she likes. And I like giving blowjobs. So back off.
Secondly, the bigger issue, and what I’ve always raged against, is that no matter what a woman says, she can’t win. We are forever caught in the Madonna/Whore conundrum. Slut-shamed or prudified.
If she doesn’t like sucking dick—she’s labeled as a cat-hoarding spinster destined to be cheated on. She will get death threats from Internet trolls who don’t get enough blowjobs or fresh air in mommy’s basement.

I like sucking dick and therefore I will be labeled a dirty, slutty prostitute—destined to get a disease and die a lonely death on Whore Island. I will get death threats from Internet trolls who don’t get enough blowjobs or fresh air in mommy’s basement.
To all these judgmental cowards casting stones from behind the safety of their glass house computer screen I say this: the weather is lovely here on Whore Island.
It’s scary. I’m opening myself up to millions of creepers, perverts, sexual deviants, misogynists and arrogant douchebags who will leave comments like: “u can suck my dick any time baby” and “let me fuck ur mouth” and “I want to wear you as a skin suit.”
I should be able to talk about this very common sexual act without being worried for my safety or know I’m going to be met with a barrage of virtual sexual harassment. Alas, this is the world we live in. For now.
It’s more than just blow jobs that turn me on. Consent is empowering. Choosing who, choosing how, choosing when—is empowering. Giving a blowjob freely to someone I’m intimate with and never having it forced, manipulated, guilt-tripped or expected is empowering. Expressing my truth is empowering.
Owning your sexuality has historically been a terrifying thing for a woman of any time and place. I happen to be one of the luckiest women on earth because I’m a Western woman who knows freedoms that many are still denied. I do not take this lightly or for granted. Which is why standing behind my sexuality, overcoming my pre-programmed shame and professing my love of giving a phenomenal BJ is far more important to me than my fear.
And to the trolls, no, I won’t “suck ur dick.” But you can definitely kiss my ass.