Ode To Oral Sex

Me: "I love oral sex..."

Her: "Who doesn’t right? ;)"

Me: "What I'm trying to say is that I prefer oral sex!"

Her: "Everyone has their preferences re... There's nothing wrong with that."

Me: "If I never have penetrative sex again in my whole life it would make no difference to me..."

Her: "Wait... What?"

This is my ode to oral sex. That thing we often refer to or treat as ‘not sex sex’ or brush off as ‘third base’ but not the final destination. As if penetration has to be the only end goal, ever. Now, this isn’t me talking shit about penetrative sex.

I get the appeal, I really do. But if ever I were to write a love letter to an act of sexual intimacy with a partner, any partner, it would simply have to be for oral sex. This is me reclaiming oral sex to be as important, gratifying and relaxing as penetrative sex is made out to be, because only I decide what sex counts as sex for me.

I was a teenager and in love. My partner and I both had touch as our love language and would be lost in our afternoons meant for studying, making out. We progressed to oral sex and we absolutely loved it.

We wanted to take it to the next level and, well, have sex? And at the time, we never thought to count oral sex as “sex”. Oral sex was just third base. Foreplay. But penetrative sex? Now that was a real ‘next step’.

When we were finally old enough to go on unsupervised trips and get a hotel room at around 19 years of age, we went for it. We prepared. We packed condoms, candles, sexy clothes, explicit consent and our will.

And it was a disaster. This was so painful for my partner, we couldn’t even go through with it. We decided to get KY Jelly and try again another day. It was painful, again. And I was beginning to feel ashamed. Like I was hurting my partner and they felt the need to keep going through the pain just to prove something. To prove that our life together was in fact intimate ‘enough’, so much that we made sure to have our first times together, regardless of personal comfort and safety.

But if only we had known better!

If only we had the resources to realise my partner seemed to have vaginismus. But that language and access to compassionate medical resources simply didn’t exist at the time, and so we pushed ourselves and persevered.

As I moved on from that relationship and had more partners, it was clear to me that I loved oral sex. But that was just foreplay in the minds of most people I spoke to.

Penetrative sex was a thing to aspire to, to graduate to, a rite of passage to prove one’s adulthood and sexual capabilities. Without that, you were considered amateur or juvenile.

But what does oral sex really entail?

While I would be giving head, there was so much communication. We would take it slow, change pace and positions, and a hand would guide me on my movement and rhythm so I knew exactly what to do. It was like a dance where we moved from one step to the other. One taking lead for each number. 

When I would hold their hips and hear their moans, their hands on my head, holding my hair, and I could feel them cum… I could feel that quiver on my lips.

But when we made our way to penetration? My mind went,

“Am I hurting them?”

“Am I going to last?”

“Damn, I’m starting to cramp”

“Fuck, I’m cumming too soon, aren’t I?”

“Maybe if I try to sing an Encanto song in my head it’ll distract me??”

“Wait, do I have a crush on Julieta?”

Cut to-

“Hey, was that okay for you? Did you have fun?”

We’d smile and hug.

Now one could also argue that I may just… not be that great at sex.

But therein lies the problem. You’re not seeing oral sex as sex. You see it as foreplay, but not sex within its own right. I was naked with my partner in bed. We were intimate.

Why isn’t that sex?

Why is my sex life lodged in some sort of weird ritual of penetration?

Why must I engage in penetration for it to qualify as a worthy ‘first time’?

It’s time we looked at sex differently. Intimate moments with their partners which have nothing to do with what the genitals are doing but depend entirely on the way we define those intimate moments in bed. What sex means to us.

Which means sex can mean different things with different partners. Different things on different days. Hell, it can even mean different things throughout the course of your entire relationship with a person, or even with your own body, and that’s really nobody else’s business but yours.

Why am I writing this?

Because I don’t want people out there to feel the pressure I did when I was just figuring out my sexuality. Penetration doesn’t make or break your sex life because someone else says it does.

Because I want people to know there are many forms of sex but they are all equally intimate and equally important. They are all sex. In all likelihood, you will have different forms of sexual intimacy with different partners. When you discuss it with peers, they will have different definitions too. None of that can or should reduce your ever-changing desires for sex and intimacy.

Because the worth of your sex life isn’t planted in or quantified by orgasms. Yes, we all deserve partners who want to know how to pleasure us and make us feel cared for, but the absence of an orgasm does not automatically take away from the value of your time together, not if both/all of you did in fact have a lovely time together.

Not all bodies orgasm all the time. Nor should they feel pressured to.

This is for the younger ones in love or in search of what sexual connections mean to them— express intimacy in ways that make you feel seen and safe. Not what porn, society and people define it as.

Here’s an ode to sex.