And to me, the ways in which a blow job veers away from that imagined semen milking machine are not limitations. The closer you can make your mouth into a jerk-off device, a lubed-up flesh light, etc, what have you won? In fact, I argue that only once you’ve learned to retain and revel in whatever you perceive your specific limitations to be, there, then, you will have found your blow job voice.

Cast out the swirl of concerns on technique in favor of a simple notion: that putting your face near someone’s dick is already radically sexy. It’s generous. Not in terms of providing an orgasm, but in terms of being willing to have someone stare at your face so close to their dick. Your face is the center of your dignity, your most specifically you place. It’s the big front facing fingerprint, that which will remain, past death, in a gorgeous portrait on your grandchildren’s stairwell, in a newspaper clipping about your greatest achievement, in your loved one’s locket. The willingness to put that, your site of dignity, posterity, identity, the most recognizable part of yourself, right up near someone’s silly dick! That’s so cool.

And it’s not just cool because it’s your face, but also because it’s your mind. They say “giving head,” and I never liked the term, but there’s a metaphor there I can get into the spirit of. To bring a dick right up into your skull, into the realm of your beautiful brain, your seat of memories, curiosities, notions, and dreams…there’s a kindness there. To elevate the simple, pulsating penis by bringing it so close to your sparkly, neon, neural network, nothing but a roof a mouth between the two? It’s like inviting a dog into your special study, a library of your rarest books. You’re letting someone’s wet dog roll around in the site of your most glittering wonder.

Any intersection of your face, mind, mouth with someone’s dick? It’s outrageous, and it’s enough. So if someone says, “What in the hell kinda blow job was that?” You can say, “That? That was my head on a stick.”

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