No Such Thing...

Like Bigfoot, Martians and Billy Bob Thornton, the lousy blow job, some would argue, does not exist. Just having a woman place The Captain anywhere within the vicinity of her mouth, these folks argue, is reward enough.

But I stand here today to tell you that the bad blow job does exist. And when it's bad. Aw, man. There's nothing worse.

Interestingly, my past has been a zigzag from one extreme to the other. Kerry W., who would hungrily undo my belt buckle with her teeth, was followed by Susan C., who embraced the act with the enthusiasm of someone bobbing for potatoes in a deep fat fryer. Then came Michelle B., who used to run an ice cube up one side of me while her tongue slid down the other [not as painful as it sounds, either], and Alison K., who refused to take her gum out of her mouth and would pause every ten seconds to ask, "Did that hurt?" She was followed by Donna L., whose tempo was impeccably timed to my every reaction, and Joyce B., who actually began the process by grasping my hard-on and asking, "What should I do now?" And that's never a good sign.

Receiving "the tap" -- that little pat on the back of the head that a woman uses to tell you, "Dude, come back up. It ain't workin' for me" [thank you, Seinfeld] -- is a tough thing for a guy. Actually administering the tap seems almost unthinkable. Dude, a girl has your cock in her mouth. How could you even think about asking her to stop?

But sometimes, it's so bad, it makes sense.

I can imagine it's even worse for women enduring men's misguided tongues and teeth in their nether regions. Which is why today's post is dedicated to those folks -- fellas and ladies -- who give awesome head. We, the fortunate recipients of your remarkably refined talents -- salute you.