#319 Taste… Myself
I’m just gonna warn you guys right now. This is not going to be pretty. It’s going to be the opposite of pretty. It’s going to be gross. You may gag. You may even vomit. I hope you don’t, but you might. Whatever you read from this point on, you do so at your own risk. Don’t say you weren’t warned. Because you were. Twice.
A couple of hundred posts ago, I got waxed. Yes, down there. Although it was pretty much the equivalent of closing my privates in a waffle iron, now I can ask any girl I go out with to do the same for me. Of course whether or not she does it is up to her. But I’ve earned the right to say, “Been there. Done that. Now you do it too!”
And that’s where I got the idea. What else could I do that women don’t always like to do just so I could ask them to do it? It seemed so simple
That’s where I got the idea. To taste… myself.
Myself? Yes. The part of myself where little Greg’s come from. My mojo, you might say.
In my somewhat limited sexual experience, I may have tasted myself indirectly here and there. A kiss on the lips after certain things finished. An errant drop or two in the throes of passion. A ricochet. A misfire. Little moments like that do happen. But never a real taste. Which is what I had planned to do tonight. Get a real good taste of the stuff and see what women are always complaining about.
The first order of business was to procure a bit of the ole happy juice.
23 seconds later…
I had what I needed. I put it in a whiskey glass. I don’t know why. It somehow seemed appropriate.
For some strange reason, this was really scary for me. I know it’s just part of my body and everything. But then again there are plenty of things that come out of my body that I wouldn’t want to taste.
And this stuff, there’s no harm in tasting it. You won’t die or get sick.
So I got ready to taste it. Then I stopped. Tasting it was too easy, I realized. I had to go farther. I only have around 7 weeks left for the blog. I had to push the envelope. Never do anything half-assed. I knew what I had to do. I had to ingest it.
I’ve eaten some weird shit for this blog. But never anything like this. Never anything as… taboo as this. I knew the more I thought about it, the worse I’d be. So I raised the glass to my mouth… and drank it.
Not only drank it, swirled it around in my mouth. It didn’t taste bad. It tasted kind of bitter, maybe a little sour, but pretty neutral. The consistency, however, made me want to vomit. It was like phlegm. Good lord ladies, I’m sorry, I had no idea.
Anyway, then it was over. I quickly gargled some bleach, rubbed my tongue with sandpaper and then lit my mouth on fire.
And for the record, yes, I swallowed.
