I’ve been writing this lovely little column for a few years now. While I’ve written a lot about my different hang-ups and turn-ons, I have tried to be as bold as possible when writing about sex because it’s often a very loaded subject. Especially in America.  Probably no topic is more loaded than this: Spit or swallow? 

I will never forget the first time I attempted to swallow cum. I was 19 and my 34-year-old boyfriend promised me it wouldn’t be so bad. Eager to please, I opened wide and almost drown. Let’s just say his manshake was so voluminous, it was like having a very large milkshake tossed in my face with my mouth agape. He could have warned me a little. It would be many years before I’d try again. 

The next person I slept with was my husband for 10+ years. He never once asked me to swallow which was fine by me. Even after seeing more than a few pornos with lots of cum swallowing, he didn’t ask. I was starting to think I’d gotten off getting him off that way. Then we divorced and I was tossed back into the dating pool which was full of…well, you know. 

The first man I slept with after my husband didn’t ask me to drink his manshake, but the next guy I dated did. When I squeamishly recoiled, he didn’t push, but I could see his disappointment. I wouldn’t let him cum in my mouth at all. The very thought of trying recalled that horrifying first time. I felt bad about it for him and me. 

I started asking my girlfriends about their coping strategies. I wasn’t sure if anyone would own up to spitting, swallowing or telling their men to point their cocks onto some part of their anatomy before they came. Much to my surprise, most of my friends preferred having boobie baths or spunk-covered buns. They weren’t too keen on having it in their mouths for even a few seconds. This made me start to wonder how bad it could be to try again. I am no quitter, after all. My next boyfriend would be the lucky recipient of my willingness to try again. 

Rob wasn’t much into blowjobs. He said I did a good job, but his preference was to please me. I didn’t complain about this, but after playing the Liz Phair song, “Hot White Cum,” several times one night when we were spending time together, he asked me if I’d do it for him, even just one time would be enough. Liz’s lyrics were pretty compelling.  

“Give it to me, don’t give it away/Don’t think about what the others say/My skin’s getting clear/My hair’s so bright/All you do is fuck me every day and night/Give me your hot white cum.” 

She refers to cum as her “secret beauty routine” and it made me wonder if that were true. I could always use more beauty help. Plus, she made it sound kind of delicious when she sings, “So hot, so sweet, so whet my appetite.” I gave Rob the thumbs up to fill me up to the lips with his “secret beauty crème.” 

I’d read of a couple of techniques to help me out. The last thing I wanted was a repeat of the first time. When Rob’s time to cum came, I was ready. I didn’t choke and while I tried to swallow as much as I could, some of it dripped out of the sides of my mouth. I wasn’t sure what to do about it, but it didn’t taste bad. It was actually kind of yummy. Rob was pretty pleased. I was pleased with myself. 

I’ve gotten considerably better at swallowing since then. With the exception of one or two guys, most of what I’ve tasted is actually pretty good. I’ve discovered that guys who eat a lot of fruit (or drink that magical cum-sweetening elixir, pineapple juice) have pretty good tasting man-juice. Smokers, I’m sorry to say, often have salty or bitter-tasting spunk. A recent study says women who swallow reported having a stronger connection to their lovers and feel better about themselves. I’d have to agree. 

So now I’m officially in the “I swallow” camp. I find it to be less messy and my phone rings off the hook. Thanks for the advice, Liz Phair!

What’s up with men these days? Huh? Certainly not their cocks.

In the past year I’ve noticed a disturbing trend. The guys I feel most compatible with for relationships just can’t seem to get it up or keep it up. Maybe it’s just me, but why is that the men I think we would be good for me, men closer to my age, seem to have so much trouble keeping it up? I turned to the Internet for some answers after some recent disappointments between the sheets.

First there was the guy I’ll call “Bale” because of his striking resemblance to Christian Bale (and because it is a lot like “bail” as in “to bail). He was very good-looking, had a decent body and a great sense of humor. We met in a crazy way—I will leave it at that because I really like him and don’t want to give away his identity. We talked for weeks and finally had our first date. It was off-the-charts awesome. The attraction for both of us was the kind where you can hardly look at each other because you like each other so much. I was really excited to see him again. He was a maybe too excited. (more SEX after the jump!)