Violet Blue - The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio - How to Go Down on a Man and Give Him Mind-Blowing Pleasure

“Do we want one made from neon pink jelly?” Chelsea murmurs. “Or a black-and-white marble swirl?”

I giggle as my lover points to a cock as long as my forearm. Wouldn’t want to play hide-and-seek with that. Still, the crazier the space-age colors, the odder the textures, the wetter my panties. Who would have guessed that shopping for a sex toy would be this much of a turn-on? And it’s not just because we’re in a hip, sex-positive store surrounded by helpful salesgirls who look as if they wrote the manual on fucking. No, what really appeals to me is the same thing I find alluring about the Nordstrom shoe department: the outrageous selection. I mean, there are literally hundreds of different types of toys to choose from. We’re not just talking length and girth, but colors, features, materials.

“How about that one?” Chelsea asks, obviously teasing as she indicates a monstrous devil-red number decorated with rounded bumps and a cynical smile.

I wonder who would choose a dildo like that, and suddenly, I’m no longer centered on the thought of the two us shopping for a sex toy. I’m lost in the thought of all the different people who have considered these items in the past, who have chosen the one they wanted and taken their precious treasures home to play with. What type of woman would like the dildo with the rabbit ears? Who would choose the double-headed U-shaped creation that can fill two holes at once?

“This one,” Chelsea says finally, and I realize with a tightness in my chest that she’s right. It doesn’t actually look like a penis. Too smooth. Too perfectly rocket shaped. Too sapphire blue.

I nod and watch the sultry brunette sales chick pluck a box from a high-up shelf, handing over the toy and a harness to Chelsea in exchange for her credit card. Pussy, I think, be still. We have to get home before you can get served.

That admonition doesn’t stop my clit from twitching or my cheeks from flushing neon-pink as Chelsea whispers in my ear. “You’re going to get this nice and wet for me, aren’t you, girl?”

“Mm hmmm.”

“Wet with your hungry mouth.”

“Mm hmmm,” I say again.

“Wet back there in the alley—”

Now, I pause, but she doesn’t. With a request spoken in undertone to the pierced sales dyke, she disappears behind a door that says Employees Only. When she returns, I immediately sense that something has changed. Her stride is different in her indigo boot-cut jeans. Her gray eyes are glowing. Empty-handed, she leads me in a pony-step out the door and around the corner. Presses me up against the chipped brick wall between two gray metal dumpsters, opens her fly with a single tug, and then pushes me down on my knees.

Dirty, my mind screams. Not X-rated dirty. Not sinful dirty. But filthy dirty. Crumpled newspapers wafting around us. Garbage smells. Creatures rustling unseen but heard.

“Suck it.”

Working that luscious rod around in my mouth, I am transported. The toy is so blue, and smooth, and delicious as it slides between my lips that I forget everything else. In public, we are alone. My hot tongue slips up and down, tickling the tip, learning the curves. Deep throating something this silky smooth seems the most natural thing in the world. I go down, down, down on it. Fucking that toy with my mouth. Showing Chelsea exactly how much I want to please her.

“Get it really wet,” my lover says, and now my mind is overwhelmed by a completely new—and very selfish—thought. How sweet this plaything will feel when it meets my cunt. “Get it wetter than wet,” she whispers. “Wetter than me.”

At her words I realize how aroused Chelsea is already. Putting one hand up to her gently rounded inner thighs, I stroke softly there as I suck on her. Christ, it’s good. My fingers finding her swollen clit up under the harness and tapping on it as I keep up the steady ride with my mouth. My lips play tricks over the tip. My throat contracts. There is motion out at the end of the alley. Peripherally, I make out the blur of sunflower-yellow taxi cabs, the medley of colors as pedestrians crowd along the cracked concrete. But in my little world, there is only one thing: the blue, smooth sex toy between my parted lips.

“Get it all wet,” Chelsea says. “Get it ocean wet.”

I am. I know where it’s going, and I know what to do. I want to feel this alien object probing my inner walls. But first, I want to suck and suck and suck. Why? I don’t know. The hot pulse of sex in that store started me off. Chelsea’s teasing glances as she played with all the different paraphernalia. And the fact that she chose the right toy without hesitation. Understanding that I didn’t want real, I wanted cool.

But it’s warm now. Warm from my wet mouth, as my pussy is warm in my cargo pants. Chelsea will take care of me. I have faith. When she’s good and ready, she’ll whip me around so my palms are splayed on the brick wall of the store, and she’ll lower my slacks and slide aside my lacy lipstick-red thong, and thrust this space-age toy into my pussy.

For now, I do what she wants. Licking, sucking. Slurping on her hard blue rod, as only a back alley baby should.

Possibly the most famous film of porn’s golden age was the 1972 film Deep Throat, in which the adult actress Linda Lovelace made her most famous starring appearance . In the film, she played a woman who discovers with the aid of a very randy doctor that her clitoris is located in the back of her throat. Not a terribly complicated (or even possible) idea, but the plot device enabled the filmmaker to showcase Linda’s amazing real-life talent for fellating a penis of any size all the way down into her throat. When the filmmaker originally witnessed her doing it in person, in his office, he was inspired to create the film.

When Deep Throat hit the theaters, Lovelace’s performance caused such a stir that millions of Americans watched explicit sex onscreen for the first time. Frank Sinatra, Spiro Agnew, Warren Beatty, Truman Capote, Nora Ephron, and Bob Woodward (who used Deep Throat as the name for his key Watergate source) saw the film on its first run, and eventually more people saw Deep Throat in theaters than any other adult film. Deep Throat brought hard core into popular culture and played for eight consecutive years at a theater in Hollywood . And the technique, or at least a name for it, entered our collective consciousness, changing our sexual cultural landscape.

In terms of pleasure and what constitutes an effective blow job, there are countless differing opinions of this technique. Because of its reputation, and because it seems like virtually every porn starlet can sword-swallow with ease, it is an oft-requested skill, and most folks who give head want to know how to do it. Yet, for as many men out there who want their partners to swallow their penis whole, there are an equal number who say that receiving deep throat pales in comparison to, say, having their balls tugged, or getting a fierce and enthusiastic blow job. People who like to perform the technique enjoy it wholesale, relishing that they can take him all the way down, get turned on by the idea and act, and feel incredibly sexy for having the skill. There are lovers who might only do it because their lover wants them to—a turn-on in its own right. Some consider it merely a novelty; others might think it’s “the bomb.” However you come to it, learning to deep throat can increase your ease and comfort with fellatio in general, and it’s a terrific skill to add to your fellatio bag of tricks.

One of my favorite things to do is when he’s all the way in I “milk” him with my tongue and throat. I hold my head totally still; I can do this and masturbate at the same time, which I always want to do. He makes the most amazing noises!