The Art of Closing the Deal

I'm in sales. Obviously. And regardless of what or where you sell, the reason we are in sales is because of how it feels to win the deal. The extreme giddy high we get as we leave the customer with our contracts signed and order ready is our EVERYTHING. The possibility that we could get a nibble of that high is what gets us out of bed. You can sell a great product or complete shit, but all that matters is that you believe in it enough to convince a stranger. It's the Pilgrim's Progress of negotiation: you begin with their perception, power through the reality, holding onto your patience, all while gaining their trust. Once we gain their trust, the rest of the deal falls into place. It is absolutely a delicate dance of teasing, foreplay and a steady hand. With that consistent and steady stimulation, we encourage them to let go, relinquish control and let us takeover from here. We then coax them into the close with a lusty urgency. A little push, a little pull and a rush towards the finish. We sales people are in it for the win. The magnificent, euphoric, engulfing, orgasmic rush of the win.

I feel the same way about blow jobs.

(I'm sure I could/will feel the same way about cunnilingus, but I'm not quite as skilled at that yet.)

Giving impeccable head is all about getting the win: the excruciatingly explosive, hard-reset, you-don't-give-a-fuck-if-the-world-combusts-this-instant-type of orgasm. Luring them, urging them, drawing out every drop of energy as they hurdle up the hill, towards the finish line, pummeling towards the point of no return. Going down on someone as only a kind of intermission, or worse, duty, reminds me of chores and subsequent procrastination. Don't even bother. Seriously. Don't. It's not sexy.

Due to the unfortunate anatomical circumstances of my last long-term partner, he did not particularly enjoy my face below his waist for prolonged periods of time. This is like telling a pastry chef she is suddenly violently allergic to sugar! Oh, he'd let me get in a few strokes, maybe a lick or two, but no long-term stroke-lick-suck rhythm. This is the tragic result of sexual shame, and I find so many men just get their's all over me.

It is terribly unfortunate and downright sad that men have been told by any female or partner that their desires are wrong or dirty, and as such, have shoved them in their proverbial locked box under the bed, only to pop out when their amiable loving partner least expects it. Poor girl is usually so terrified that both partners run away screaming. It only takes one frightened response for men to believe that what they want in bed will scare off the good girls (read: potential mates). So, they then consciously or unconsciously, learn to save that stuff for the fuckable rather than the dateable. More often than not, men believe they must sacrifice their most raunchy desires in order to keep the peace with their precious Madonna. I get more calls/emails/texts from women who are completely shocked by what their husband/partner is now "suddenly" into and what should they "do" about it? I assure you, ladies, this is not something new, but at the most base level, it is a very deep gesture of trust. When a man opens his sexual shame pantry, he is choosing to expose himself to your potential rejection. Please, "do" tread lightly. If they trust you with this, they trust you with their guts.

But I digress...back to the lost art, and appreciation of, fellatio.

So, in addition to the internal issues interfering with fulfilling men's desires, there are always external issues. You cannot properly suck a dick if there is not a proper dick to be sucked (see previous post). And today, I am just so happy that I finally got to make mad sloppy face love to a proper man dick. Thank GOD. I can go without intercourse, if I must, but I am formally opposing not properly using the big juicy mouth God gave me anymore. The next day, I practically bounced out of bed, savoring the events from the night before. I longingly licked and lovingly sucked every last thick drop of juice from that yummy cock. I lightly grazed my fingernails across his balls, up the insides of his thighs, up and down the shaft...lingering, sweet pauses to enjoy every throb of desire swelling in my mouth. There is no better satisfaction than making a man come so hard, so fervently by your own doing. Proper fellatio, for me, is infinitely more wholly satisfying than ordinary intercourse. I get to do the work, the negotiation: navigating their fears and perception, the slow buildup past reality, pushing through my patience, then eagerly rushing towards the finish for the win. An authentic win-win situation.

All in a day's work...

JN