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Everything a Man Needs to Know About Blowjobs and Cannot Discuss with His Wife, Ex-wife or Girlfriend, but Might Venture Discreetly Talking About with his Mistress at an Outdoor French Café While Enjoying Cóte de Brouilly

A blowjob is what every man wants first and foremost from a woman. Any man who says otherwise is either lying or in denial. If he is not lying or in denial then he is among that most unfortunate and pitiable class of men who have never heard about or had the pleasure of a blowjob. Poor bastard!

In case the rest of you hungry and insatiable mongers (a class of men to which I cannot claim membership) out there are unaware of eternal truths, the warmongering Americans are to be given enormous credit for introducing blowjobs to both Thailand and the Philippines. The blowjob, truth be told, was a gift of such enormous significance that the world of Southeast Asia has never been the same since, as all sane men acknowledge. It strikes me that as a result the least that other mongers can do upon meeting an American—by an accident of birth I just happen to be one--is to give him a deep and long wai and then buy him a drink, and then cough up money for the barfine and the morning after fee for a hooker who specializes in…need I repeat that word that is first and foremost on everyman’s mind when he looks at the luscious lips of any young woman who comes into view?

Blowjob, of course, is a word that were its meaning not clearly and universally understood would make no sense at all. Quite obviously, a woman does not blow on a man’s penis but rather sucks it—I think (how would I really know—as I only speak to theoretical matters, as everyone knows); and when not sucking uses her lips in ways that cannot, if done with tact and finesse, be described in any known primate language, it is that marvelous an experience. Fellatio, of course, is the refined and always polite way of referring to a blowjob, and is, need I say, a word that can be discretely used at a French café while with one’s mistress and drinking cóte de brouilly. The word, for you brutes and barbarians out there (and I do include myself in this esteemed class of those lucky enough to have a robust Y chromosome) comes from the Latin verb, to suck.

The Thais, oddly enough, have it right, for they refer to a blowjob as “smoking,” and as everyone knows when a person smokes a cigarette or an opium pipe (my second favorite activity in Southeast Asia) he or she literally sucks—I think. But as everyone also knows, true smoking involves inhaling, or taking into one’s throat (one of our former great aficionados of blowjobs, invariably in the White House pantry no less, was an exception to this “taking in,”—it is rumored, long rumored, and so it will be duly noted by future historians) that deliciously addictive drug that few smokers cannot stay away from, anymore than all men who truly love blowjobs never fail to say on the first day with any woman under the age of twenty-nine, after a couple of drinks of course: Would you, just this once, and for me, please swallow everything I am about to give you?

As every straight man in a soul searching moment knows, the best blowjob a man can get is administered by a man—or so I have heard from a dozen or so men I know who have had more than a visual interest in the ladyboys of Thailand and the billyboys of the Philippines. I regret to say, however, that I cannot vouch for the truth of this claim since I have never been sucked on or off by a man; but what I do know with some degree of certainty is that all men of some experience know beyond any reasonable doubt that it is not at all easy to find a woman who really knows how to give a memorable and truly unforgettable blowjob—or for most even a decent blowjob. Or what many of my generation, and men of the seventeenth and eighteenth century referred to as “giving head with hair and flair.” (As in: Honey, while I’m watching Monday Night football, would you give me head to relieve my aching head ache? [The hair and flair is assumed, and yet by smart men in the twenty-first century written into the pre-nup and repeated on the last page before she signs what must be signed is she wants a man who will occasionally buy her a new pair of edgy rock star platform heels.] Which is not to be confused with asking her opinion on whether or not the governor of California had the legal right to be f**king the house maid at taxpayer expense and in the state house while his unobliging and status-conscious wife of too many years and too much mileage was soliciting yet more money for a new JFK library.) Those women who really do know how to give a blowjob, one can bet with great certainty, have been patiently taught by a man who has the skill to teach a dog the Roman alphabet forward and backward, and most certainly knows how to convince any western woman that she is, under no circumstances, to exceed 47.5 kilos in weight until she is an octogenarian and to always be at the ready for giving a blowjob while the man and master of the house—that’s all of us, and here once again I do include myself--is glued to the TV, avidly taking in the latest soccer, rugby, football, basketball or Australian rules football game.

A blowjob expertly rendered gives the best of all orgasms: on the one hand because there is no work whatsoever required by the man—no work other than the mental exercise of enjoying the moment to the fullest with a cigarette and a very dry martini or Remy Martin X. O. cognac, and while perhaps thinking of his other mistress and two testy and not always obliging girlfriends; and on the other hand because, if the woman is as good as any woman could possibly be in the art of sucking cock, she is also a expert at having carefully cut and trimmed the nail on her middle finger which she then, with great and loving expertise, inserts into the man’s asshole to tenderly massage the prostate while giving head [with plenty of hair and flair, to be sure], all of which results in the man being able to fill her mouth with all that he has or could possibly have and cannot help but scream or shout or cry or simply say—tenderly and with love: My luv, will you be kind enough to do me again just like that in another twenty minutes, and if you do so I will love you for at least one more day?

Again, the Americans—oh the generous and expansive and open-minded Americans!--need to be given a carload, a busload, a trainload of kudos for introducing the blowjob to Southeast Asia, for one of the many welcome benefits of having done so is that in the Philippines it has created a whole class of young virgins who are known as cherry girls, and who therefore will not allow for vaginal or anal penetration but are more than happy to give a man a blowjob. A good blowjob. A full-throttle, once every four-years blowjob. A blowjob that is…for men who have their priorities exactly right one hell of a stupendous experience! The reason that cherry girls are so very good at it—if you know how to choose cherry girls (not easy unless a true blue monger and past the age of 25)--is that they are doing it all the time. (I do hope that this little piece of insider information does not get widely circulated, for I know more than one cherry girl aficionado in the Angeles City who is going to want to kick my ass for letting out this little known fact, and therefore increasing the demand for a kind of hooker that most men—uneducated men and novice mongers, to be sure—assiduously avoid. Since I have gone this far in revealing a little known secret about Filipina cherry girls, I might as well note that the real aficionados invariably take two of them for the night, one for either side of the bed—and who can blame them, if you have had the experience?)

What is greatly underappreciated is that hookers who are really on the game and get lots of trade place a high value on giving blowjobs, and very much to the exclusion of f**king, and for the simple reason that it is much easier to get a man off with a blowjob, and once he’s climaxed the hooker has either finished her commitment to him (short-time), or it means one or two less bouts of f**king that because a condom is often used and the man is older and he’s using Viagra there’s going to be a good bit of pounding, and more pounding, and sometimes more than a little pain, which is the reason that so many hookers who haven’t learned the great value of giving blowjobs walk like they’ve been riding a horse all their life (they are, to use a phrase, cowgirls, but not for the reason one might assume). But, then, this is old news to real as opposed to faux mongers, I guess, speaking, again I must remind the reader, from my theoretical high chair armed with high-powered vacuum cleaners to suck up all the gossip and insider information that I come upon in my many travels in Southeast Asia.

Virtually all men, their fears aside, prefer skin on skin (or so I have heard), and while most men may wear a condom—more so in Thailand than in the Philippines—only the tiniest percentage of all men who go with hookers ever wear a condom for a blowjob. Not only does this mean greater pleasure, and greater ease of coming, but it points to a poorly appreciated irony, namely that in getting a blowjob a man is exposed to an enormously greater number of bacteria than he is when having unprotected vaginal sex. The human mouth contains more than 300 different species of bacteria, and over 40 million of these ancient unicellular creatures of many anatomical forms—rod-shaped, circular, spirals, and so on. And yet because of the great diversity of bacteria found in the mouth, all of the tens of millions of them that wash all over the male penis are nothing to worry about. They are nothing to worry about because the mouth is one ongoing, ever evolving vastly unappreciated killing field, every species of bacteria doing all it can to kill every other species of bacteria found in the mouth. It is a form of warfare unknown to the mightiest soldiers and mercenaries and warmongering nations the world has ever known. But mongers don’t know any of this—I dare venture; and they really couldn’t give a fig, because all they ever think about is that gorgeous young head of waist-length jet black hair and the full and agile mouth doing what a properly trained woman does so well. They constantly think about what the last one did and how she did it; and they dream—daily, hourly, by the minute—about just how good the next one will be. Well some men—men in the know, I am told--dream obsessively about the last one and the next one, and the one they will enjoy in the final moments of this earthly life.

“Honey, I do hope you have enjoyed this small and brief lecture on the history and medical nature of fellatio, but I am afraid that there has only been one thing on my mind as I rattled on and we relished this very fine cóte de brouilly, and I found myself utterly mesmerized by your loveliness and those Megan Fox lips.

I have not the slightest doubt, honey, that you know exactly what I am talking about. If you don’t mind, then, I do think there is enough time before the waiter comes with the bill for you to get on your knees and crawl under the tablecloth and give me what I just cannot do without.”