Once there was a girl who was so prudish that she refused to even say the word, “fuck”. It was as if the mere mention of the word would rip a chunk out of her gold plated virtue. She didn’t bone, bang, get busy or do the do, either. Those things are for heathans. Instead, Alfia got S-E-X-ual.
That’s right. Anything intercourse related or coitus adjacent was labeled, letter S, letter E, letter X, followed by the psuedo-word, ual. Get it? S-E-X-ual.
This post is if a S-E-X-ual nature. It pertains to grown up matters of the bedroom. Alfia, if you’re out there, please scroll down. You won’t like this.
“Every man should be grapefruited…It feel like you are giving him head, and fucking him at the same time.”
Somewhere out there, a woman is giving her man a grapefruit assisted blowjob. It’s the internet’s fault.
It’s quite possible that this has been going on for decades. Maybe it was a family secret for keeping your man happy. I can imagine the instructions written in the margins of some three generations old family cookbook. But I didn’t know about it until earlier this week, which is pretty astounding in this age of instant online perversion.
There is an article in Bustle Magazine, in which the author asks her boyfriend if she can do somthing wierd to his dick. For journalism. And then she buys the grapefruit, and lays down the towel (grapefruit juice) and…lets just say that he liked it.
Dudes, if this sounds like something you are interested in, stop right here. Here is the link to the pioneer of the grapefruit blowjob, Auntie Angel. Send it to your wife, your girl, side jawn or whoever it is that normally handles that chore in your household. But don’t click it. You don’t want to see what’s behind the jump.
I should have sent it directly to my wife, so she could see it, say no, and I could go on none the wiser. But I clicked the link. Now I can’t unsee it.
Now, I don’t know where Auntie Angel gained all of her sex-pertise, but it is clear that she doesn’t mind rolling up her sleaves and getting the job done. Dressed in a pink blouse with a black skirt, she looked like a bank teller, right up until she took a hefty rubber dildo in her hands, slid the grapefruit over it and then… you know.
But the sound. Like a wet/dry vac sucking up jello cubes. Like your drunkest, sloppiest sex, thrown into a tub full of Wesson oil and turned up to 11. It’s… off putting.
I may have ruined my capacity to be grapefruited, which is tragic. After all, every man should experience it. But I did it to myself.
Auntie Angel’s instructions was for the woman to blindfold her man, slip on the ring of fruit and then suck and stroke. That blindfold is not optional. It is just as essential as the grapefruit, because if you see what’s going on before your mind is blown, the sheer WTF of the situation might knock you out of your mindstate.
I know guys are horny pigs incapable of saying no to any opportunity for orgasm, but I wondered if the back of her throat was okay. I like my wife’s throat. I want it to be healthy and strong.
In all fairness, Auntie Angel is an educator, not a performer. She is not there for men. She’s there for women, so that they can unleash their inner freak all over the produce aisle. Shame on me for peering behind the curtain. It wasn’t for my eyes, and I paid the price.
Bonus Best line: “Grapefruit is also a fatburner, so you are actually losing weight while you’re sucking your man’s dick.”
Say that to your woman when you’re trying her to grapefruit you. Watch her slap it right out of your hand.