The Messy Mondays c’heauxmmunity on Instagram really solidified itself around a video I made explaining how to give a blow job to a larger dick by yawning. It was coined the BKGY, “Brandon Kyle Goodman yawn” and added to urban dictionary.com. One of my proudest accomplishments. After discussing how to suck the penis, of course there were follow up questions. Most notably, do you spit or swallow that load? Are you gonna be a cum guzzler or a cum exorcist?
Last month, on The Real Housewives of Potomac reunion episode (part one), the ladies were debating over whether to spit or swallow. Legendary OG wife, Ashley Darby, remarked that she pretends to swallow, and holds it in her mouth until her now ex husband (Michael Darby, who we do not have time to talk about here, but yes of course I have opinions) falls asleep before spitting it out.
Now listen, I’m never gonna tell you what to do. I might make suggestions of what NOT to do cuz I’m a Messy Mother who cares about you! But what you can always count on is me sharing my experience. And in my experience, I love swallowing. For me, if I’ve done the job of blowing, I want my payment. I love getting paid! Deposit your load into my throat bank. Right? Also the currency of cum, makes me feel powerful!
(Can you believe I’m writing this on the internet? lol.)
(Also, more on “power” later).
I often get asked about gagging. You can gag on the dick, of course, (and that can be fun). But as it relates to the semen it expels, there’s nothing to gag on, UNLESS the load is…spoiled? As in, perhaps the person has an STI and their loads are…compromised? Smelly? Stank? Which by the way, STIs happen. There’s no shame in getting one, but this is why we test regularly and keep track of our partners. Heauxz care about their health, and the health of their partner(s). Period.
Another commonly asked question is, what does cum taste like? So, for you, I went and did some intentional research. This weekend I swallowed a load, (again, for research), and it was…tasteless? Maybe a little salt flavoring. Like the amount of salt that one white friend who has a contentious relationship with seasoning puts on their chicken. (You know the friend, stop playing!) !
Barely noticeable. It was more texture than taste and the texture is gooey. Sticky. Perhaps best described as mucusy. (Girl, what an unsexy word, but let’s go with it.) You know when you’re congested, and you sniff really hard, and all the mucus comes sliding down your throat? It’s like that. But instead of feeling as though you’re a punching bag for pollen, you feel like Ursula in the Little Mermaid, when she takes Ariel’s voice. POWERFUL, bitch! That penis is now part of YOUR world! You know what I’m saying?
Side note, “mucusy” made me feel like there’s a “bussy” joke to be made. It also made me think I should call cum that gets unloaded inside the anus, “bussy juice”. Oh my god, you hate it, don’t you?! Me too! But also…it’s perfect? Could you imagine, bouncing on someone’s dick and saying, “give me my bussy juice”. Someone please shut my computer down! I shouldn’t be allowed to type anymore. Anyways, if you come up with a mucusy bussy joke, put in in the comments. Back to what I was saying…)
Why do I feel powerful? Good question. I guess, if I really reflect, I’m a perfectionist. A lot of my worth historically, (and probably still at times), comes from doing things perfectly. From overachieving. Growing up I got praised when my room was clean, when I got an A on my tests, when I was well behaved. I internalized that my perfectionism would gain me acceptance, belonging, and safety. It would get me love. Make me lovable. Worth loving. (It’s important to note that excellence and perfection are NOT the same thing. A lesson that I still struggle with.) To my detriment, I spent my childhood, teenage years, and most of my twenties chasing perfection in a way that made no space for failure. No space for my humanity. In my late twenties I finally started to dismantle that, and work on finding love for myself that isn’t rooted in what I can do, but just in my being. But I always say, I’m a recovering perfectionist, because I have to actively choose to show up as my messy self instead of a perfect idea of myself. That said, in the moments when I’m able to do something perfectly, it is an indescribable high. Lemme try and describe it though.
It’s euphoric. Like floating, close to flying. The way you thought flying would feel when you were a kid. There’s a joy, a wonder, and whimsicalness to it. A deep pleasure and excitement. It’s like seeing a magic show for the first time. The impossibility of a rabbit being pulled out of the magician’s hat shocks your system in a way that makes you question reality with the most delightful lens. It’s a singular feeling that jolts your insides, gives you purpose, and makes you feel heroic. Like Hercules returning to Mount Olympus (in the Disney movie, at least. IDK what actually happened in the real story. Is Hercules real? No, right? I’ma Google that later.) Anywhoways, experiencing perfection is unmatched. Not every person will cum from a blow job and it has nothing to do with how good you are at it. Some people really need a hand and some lube. But. BUT. BUUUUUUT, if I am able to successfully make a guy (ESPECIALLY a guy who usually can’t cum from a blow job) shoot a load using my mouth and throat skills, oh BABY, then I want to taste my work. The cream filling of a twinkie is what makes the twinkie so good! Plus, when you swallow, the way their eyes roll back, the toes curl, the body twitches. SHAKING. SHAKING IN PLEASURE. Heavy breathing and moaning all because of my big wet mouth? That’s power! To be honest, if I didn’t have my mouth full of cum, I’d be saying “Give me your soul babe!” Which would be a wild thing to say, and I actually never would unless I knew the person understood my sense of humor. Omg, am I a Disney villain? How cliché. And fabulous, lol!
Anyways, all this to say, I support you if you want to continue spitting. But, also, if you have a partner you’re vibing with, and wanna try something new, go for it! You may discover you still don’t like it, or you might discover you’re a Disney villain. Either way, I’m team YOU!
And in case you haven’t heard it yet today, you are so deeply loved!
Also, Hercules was not real. (lol)
You're really making a splash with your entry into Substack. I love this for us.
the content i am here forrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr yes mother!!!!!