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I had a boyfriend once who enjoyed sucking on a dildo. He was straight as a die; I doubt whether he had a single bi-curious bone in his body. And the first time he did it... well let’s say I’d just given the thing quite a soaking myself, and he was just cleaning it off for me.

It was one of the hottest things I had ever seen. He sucked like a pro, but more importantly, there was no porn star exaggeration or “I must finish my supper and clear my plate” wastefulness. He worked that thing so luxuriously, so carefully, so devotedly, that I think I picked up a couple of tips just watching. He looked so into it.

I didn’t say a word. What I wanted to ask, of course, was “are you sure you’ve never done that before?” But I didn’t. Sex is not something that needs to be dissected by lovers, at least not while it’s happening. Afterwards, you can say “Hey, I really loved it when you...” and if you’re fishing for answers, they may come along. But so might self-consciousness, embarrassment, and a reluctance to ever do it again. And I wanted it to happen a lot.

Which it did, and the talking followed. We experimented with toys and I was surprised to learn just how few truly dedicated oral toys there are. Yes you can go the strap-on route, but it’s not always the most attractive look; and double headed dildos tend not to have the correct rigidity (or so he told me). We wound up sticking with a regular dildo, which one of us held to my loins, although it really wasn’t as stable as we’d have liked. Then he asked me if it was possible to find one that could cum.

One that actually feels even remotely like the real thing? Oh, I wish!

So, what brought all this on? Well, it wasn’t any interest whatsoever in sampling “the real thing.” Basically, and without trying to delve any deeper into his fantasies than he was willing to tell me, he wanted to experience something for himself that I clearly enjoyed doing to him.

He had a few questions, but his primary concern was, how did I feel when I was watching him? So I answered honestly. It was as though I was looking into a mirror, seeing all of the pleasure and excitement I feel when I’m doing it, reflected back at me in his face. Horny. Hot. Happy. Occasionally, I even orgasmed from the visual alone, which is when he asked about squirting dildos. It was another sensation that he wanted to share, and when I told him about my own favorite moment, which is that split second or so when you know that the floodgates are about to open, but before the first spurt (or splosh) hits your tastebuds, his curiosity was almost forensic.

Again, however, that was where his interest ended. He knew that his own experiments with a dildo could never be more than a pale imitation of reality, and he was happy for them to stay that way. When I joked about a hypothetical threesome in which I could just sit back and watch him and another guy go at it, I might as well have asked him to jump out of a window for all the enthusiasm and interest he showed. It was not the cock he craved. It was not the heat or the taste or the movement or any of the myriad other delights that a woman might wax rhapsodic about. It was the experience. One that he wanted to share with me alone.

Neither was it was a sexual thing per se. I mean, obviously it is, because it is an act that can really only be indulged under the cover of a sexual encounter. And the lusts and desires that he feels are as real as those that tell him he wants to fuck, he wants to lick, he wants to swing from the lampshades with me hanging onto his balls by my teeth. (Wow! I wonder where that vision came from?)

But as with so much else that we do spontaneously when we are with a lover, whether they are long standing favorites or sudden flashes of inspiration that you’d never even thought of before, his desire to suck his girlfriend’s cock was not derived from some deep seated and hitherto repressed urge to insert your favorite gay cliche here.

It is beyond homosexuality, it is beyond heterosexuality.

It is sexuality, plain, simple and unadorned, and if we return to the scenarios mapped out at the beginning of this article, the guy who won’t be kissed, the guy who won’t be snowballed, the guy who would rather be any place else in the world than risk getting a mouthful of his own sperm when his face is between your legs, then we are not only seeing an aversion to a particular act. We are also seeing a refusal to take the final step that true sexuality requires. Which is, being so into your partner and his or her pleasure that you forget everything beyond the moment itself.

When your tongue’s in her ass, you don’t worry about whether she’s thinking you’re a shit-eater.

When her nipple’s in your mouth, you don’t flash on the fact that she’s probably written you off as infantile.

When your whole fist is in her pussy, it doesn’t cross your mind that she’s thinking she needs to get some new kegel balls.

And when your own cum’s on your tongue, don’t worry. It doesn’t mean you’ve suddenly turned gay, and she isn’t wondering whether you’d look best in pink or black leather, and heels.

But it might mean you have just discovered a whole new way of sharing the thrill; and, who knows? You might even grow to love the taste and texture.

After all, she’s supposed to, isn’t she?