Soon, I'll have it licked.

“What are you reading?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do.”

“This is another reason why I have a Kindle: so you can’t see the cover or tell how often I’m flipping pages.”

“Whatever.”

“Fine. It’s a book called She Comes First and it’s absolutely what you think it is.”

“A great idea?”

“Some would say.”

“Well, what have you learned?”

“That your pussy is like fine, red wine.”

“It is and you’re disgusting.”

“Am so. It says right here that the pH of your vulva is remarkably similar to wine. Next time I head south, I’m bringing crackers and thinly sliced Parmesan.”

“Hey, whatever keeps you down there for longer than a minute.”

“You bring up another thing I learned: It takes much longer for a woman to orgasm—typically in the fifteen to forty-five minute range.”

“Yep.”

“Damn. Sounds like a sore neck to me.”

“That’s why you have pillows. What else?”

“The clitoris is similar to the penis, but doesn’t have the waste removal duties and is thus entirely dedicated to being a pleasure center. It contains thousands of nerve endings and the hood is similar to a man’s foreskin. I wouldn’t know about that last part since I have none.”

“Good.”

“Which part?”

“The part under the foreskin.”

“Touché. Here’s something I found interesting: Some anthropologists suggest that a woman wears lipstick to signal her lover in a similar way to how her ‘lower lips’ expose themselves and change color during stimulation.”

“OK, I’m going to touch up mine, but it’s because I have dry upper lips, not the other reason.”

“Damn. Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Yes. Why? Don’t get gross on me.”

“I learned that an undesirable scent from below could be a sign of promiscuity because sperm can taint the area north of the taint.”

“I had a bagel with lox and cream cheese.”

“Sorry.”

“I should know better than to ask you questions. Couldn’t you just lie like other men?”

“Sure, but I’m a nice guy. Remember?”

“How could I forget?”

“Now let me finish the book so I can do like Neil Armstrong.”

“Fly to the moon?”

“No. Take one small lick for a man; one giant lick for womankind.”

Glazing

Today’s question comes from a sweet thing I’ll call “Nora L.” It will become apparent why I chose that name. Ladies, please raise your barriers so you don’t have to contend with such selfish men.

“I dated him for over a year and he never went down on me.”

“Horrors!”

“I’m serious.”

“Not that you should have had to, but did you ever give him a hint?”

“Such as?”

“You know—placing both hands on top of his head and pushing him down between your thighs or waiting until he falls asleep and straddle-mounting his noggin. I refer to the latter move as the clam-face. Depending on your proclivity, it could be a form of CPR.”

“You’re gross. No.”

“OK. Did you ever simply ask him?”

“I shouldn’t have to.”

“True. Might I assume this selfish lad was receiving oral favors from you?”

“He was—practically daily.”
“Damn. Have any sisters?”

“Seriously. What’s up with that?”

“Unreciprocated love is so frustrating.”

“Yes, I know.”

I’d love to corner her dude and solve the mystery by getting my information straight from the tongueless mouth. He’d probably be unreceptive.

“Dude, what’s with the no licky licky?”

“Huh?”

“Why won’t you go down on your woman?”

“I don’t know, I guess I didn’t think it was that important.”

“Duh. For some women, that’s the only way they can get to O-town.”

“She has plenty of orgasms.”

“Perhaps, but she’d still appreciate a little reciprocation.”

“Re-what?”

“Returning her oral favors, slapnuts.”

“She’s never complained to me.”

“True. Instead she complains to all of her friends and this random barstool warmer.”

“Oh God, that’s embarrassing.”

“Right? You’d better learn how to migrate soon or half the county will have you pegged as a lick-free Louie.”

“Maybe I’m worried I’m not very good at it.”

“It’s not brain surgery. Try drawing numbers with your tongue.”

“Like this?”

“Christ, man, NOT HERE!”

“Sorry.”

“Think ‘wax on, wax off,’ vary the speed and pressure, and listen for feedback. Avoid the typical up-and-down mistake called the paint-the-fence method.”

“What do I do with my hands?”

“Since you’re a rookie, I suggest grasping her butt or hips. When you finally get out of the Minors, consider employing the right hand come-hither method.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“You’re hopeless. Look, if you want her to continue bobbing on your knob, you’re going to have to go chin-glazing. Oh, and by the way, make sure you deglaze before heading back north. The back of your wrist will do, her sheets and thighs won’t.”

“Good to know.”

“Go get her, champ.”

This could have been avoided if the woman felt secure enough to deliver expectations and directions. Most women will tell everyone except for the one person who can solve the problem. Often, it’s with good intentions, as she doesn’t want to hurt her man’s feelings. Believe me; he’d rather have you tell him than your friends or, worst of all, me.

Work on bedroom communication and the rest of your relationship will become more secure and enjoyable.