I'm a psychologist by trade, but I'm far from your mainstream therapist, and I'm certainly not a Freudian—although to be fair, in spite of the faults we can find today in a lot of his theories about the psyche, the guy did open the door to self-reflection, and that can't ever be a bad thing. He thankfully paved the way for (and helped mentor, at least for a while) Carl Jung. Now there's a guy I can get behind. Although, Freud was also followed by Skinner and his ilk, and I could definitely have gone without the behaviorists' influence over the field... *sigh*
But I digress...
Anyway, when I was in graduate school, we budding therapists used to read the DSM-IV and find ourselves in practically every diagnosis. We were all neurotic, depressed, obsessive-compulsive, dissociative anorexics (or compulsive overeaters). Just thinking about it was enough to give you a severe anxiety disorder – and living through the process of learning to label diagnose others with various mental conditions could give anyone post-traumatic stress disorder!
I think ol' Freud did, however, get one thing right about human behavior, at least about mine: oral fixation. According to Wikipedia... (and yes, I know that you can love the Wiki, but you can't trust it completely - or you need to trust it as you would a lover with a history of infidelity, for the Wiki will fuck you! But it's not my only source, it's just easy to access and quote, and on top of my oral fixation, I'm pathologically lazy... and those damned psychology books on my shelves are just too heavy and unwieldy!)
Anyhoo, Wiki says, "Oral fixations are considered to contribute to over-eating, being overly talkative, smoking addictions, overindulging in sugar, chewing on straws, and even alcoholism (known as 'oral dependent' qualities). Other symptoms include a sarcastic or 'biting' personality (known as 'oral sadistic' qualities)."
They forgot to add addicted to blowjobs to that list.
Otherwise, I fit the bill almost perfectly – it explains the eating disorder, my sweet tooth, the fact that my straws and pen caps and nails are twisted and ragged. Granted, I'm not into the alcohol or the smoking, but I've definitely got the sarcasm thing perfected.
And the blowjobs. Definitely have those down.
Seriously, listen to Wiki's definition of the "Oral Receptive" personality:
"The oral receptive personality is preoccupied with eating/drinking and reduces tension through oral activity such as eating, drinking, smoking, biting nails. They are generally passive, needy and sensitive to rejection. They will easily 'swallow' other people's ideas."
Okay, that's totally me. If I didn't have something in my mouth at all times – whether it's gum (I love gum, I'm addicted to gum, especially that hot cinnamon stuff!) or sugarfree candy (I eat more lollipops than Kojak) or chocolate or pen caps or my nails or his cock – I always want something in my mouth, especially when I'm stressed.
I'm incredibly orally sensitive and I admit, I give rather selfish blowjobs. For me, it's all about the feel, the velvety rub of his spongy mushroom cock head against the roof of my mouth, the deliciously peppery taste of his pre-cum coating my tongue. His pleasure is often secondary, because I'm so focused on how good his cock feels in my own mouth.
Most of the time, I don't pay much attention to particular techniques. When I slide my tongue down to cradle his balls in my mouth it's because I want to feel their weight and smell his pungent, acrid, distinctly male odor. When I open my throat entirely to take the full length of him it's because I want to experience that throbbing fullness, the tickle of his pubic hairs against my nose.
He doesn't seem to mind – in fact, he encourages my fixation, often to the point of a teasing cruelty. He knows how susceptible I am to the sight of his hard cock in his hand, and he hasn't been beneath taking full advantage of the fact. When he knows I'm particularly stressed – if I'm biting my nails, or I've been sucking on Crème Savers all night (oh my god, I love those, too!) – he'll unzip his jeans, slide them down his hips, and start to lazily stroke himself.
Like I could resist?
I can't. Resistance is futile. My regression to a particular psychosexual state of development makes it impossible for me to keep from crawling over to the sweet relief for the ache in my mouth, the longing to suck, to be filled, to take and give pleasure, both all at once. He loves his cock in my mouth, but sometimes I think he loves how much I love it even more, the happy sounds I make in my throat, the adoration in my eyes when I look up at him.
And really, who could blame him?
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