dear irby and ian:
why won't my girlfriend let me go down on her? women are supposed to love that. is something wrong with her?
irby: two reasons, homie. 1 we live in a country that hates women so goddamned much that you can hear a "fish pussy" joke on the motherfucking evening news. and that's, of course, right after your eyes have been assaulted by no fewer than 137 feminine hygiene and maintenance advertisements that, while purporting to be pro-lady and supportive of our reproductive health, actually do little more than to reinforce the idea that your vagina is wrong. it looks wrong, it smells wrong, and without every single one of these waxes and wipes and depilatories and creams, no man worth any salt at all is going to want to put his handsome and clean-shaven face near that wretched cavern of gross. because keeping your vagina squeaky clean isn't about a dude's penis, IT'S ABOUT HIS FUCKING FACE. men will stick their dicks in anything: corpses, livestock, fleshlights, kathy griffin. but it's where this motherfucker is willing to put his mouth that presents the real challenge, as stupid women have allowed lazy, selfish assholes to use "icky hair" and "funny smell" to get out of spending any quality time with their ostrich heads buried in our ladysand.
and 2 YOU'RE PROBABLY DOING IT WRONG. i have met every cunnilingus expert and orgasm specialist in the goddamned city of chicago. maybe it's this new "men wearing skinny jeans" sensitive era in which we currently live, but apropos of nothing dudes always want to tell you on the first goddamned date how good they are at mouth-to-lips resuscitation. and i'm all about getting naked with a progressive and forward-thinking hot piece of beef, but i went out with a dude once who simulated oral sex at the motherfucking dinner table, and what part of the game is THAT? because sure, it's nice to know that you have a tongue in your head, sir, and your ability to lick the outside of a wine glass really knocked my goddamned socks off (BARF), but my vagina looks more like a roast beef sandwich with no mustard on rye bread. so if you're going to effectively simulate, we're going to need to close this bar tab and holler at a deli.
have you ever watched a dude eat a goddamned sandwich? meat chomping lettuce shoveling mayonnaise slurping crumbs in his beard grossness? THAT SHIT IS DISGUSTING. if you saw me attacking a banana or an ice cream cone like a wild goddamned animal, teeth gnashing and sending little bits of chewed banana spewing every which way, would you invite me to have a go at a blowjob? no, you wouldn't. you would muzzle me and insist on putting your dick in my butthole. that's the real reason i try to get menfolk to go on food dates, because i can watch how that motherfucker handles a pork belly taco and decide whether or not he can take a bite of mine.
i had a dude bite my vagina once. like, on the inside. and i'm rude in bed, quel surprise i fucking know, so i smacked the side of his head pretty hard and asked what lying-ass bitch had told him women like that shit. i have suffered a handful of sex injuries to date, the most notable being 1 the time a dude broke my nose while i was blowing him and 2 the time this wannabe vampire bit my inner labia with his dirty fucking mouth. i steered him out of there and told him he could jerk off in the sink, and two days later my shit was swollen and radiating nuclear heat. i went to the doctor and he was like, "who the fuck are you having sex with, dracula?!" i had to be on antibiotics for three goddamned weeks, all because this asshole tried to reinvent the cunnilingus wheel. IDIOT. and i'm not saying that no one does it right; i had a very successful experience a couple weeks ago. but that was some four-leaf clover head. one in a million, not even kidding.
getting eaten out is boring. sorry, dudes, it just is. we only make you do it because you want your dicks sucked all the time and this is pretty much the only thing we can ask of you that doesn't get you off at the same time. everything you jerks hate about blowjobs is multiplied by a factor of ten when you're wasting our fucking time with your heads between our legs. what's the worst thing about getting your dick sucked? inconsistency and pace interruption? WE HAVE THE SAME FUCKING PROBLEM. just think of our shit as an inside out penis. if i tell you exactly what to do, and i will because i am bossy, just keep doing it. right there, the same way i just taught you. wait, why are you getting creative? RIGHT THERE, that same motherfucking spot, over and over at that same pace until i'm finished. don't take a break, if you JUST KEEP DOING THAT I'LL BE DONE IN FORTY-FIVE MINUTES, I SWEAR TO GOD.
and now, without further ado, HOW TO EAT OUT A HOT LADY. or, more specifically, HOW TO EAT OUT SAMANTHA IRBY. because i don't know what these other bitches are into, and while i assume i speak for women as a gender sometimes these broads are stupid and dissent just for the fuck of it. dummies.
1 you have to pretend that whatever i smell like is exactly what you fucking expected. our body chemistry changes and shit. today's uncooked bacon and body wash is tomorrow's hint of soap with a touch of old meatloaf. we have to stop being cute: everyone's vagina smells like meat or fish or tampon residue, and we need to stop lying about that shit. no real human woman has a pussy that smells like the produce section at whole foods. vaginas are moist, damp, covered in hair, kept in the dark, and packed to overflowing with bacterial flora and fauna; and it also happens to be spitting distance from my butthole, where diarrhea comes from. that shit is not supposed to smell like a spring day. can i clean it up? YES. will i still smell like a sexually-aroused human female? ALSO, YES. pussy stinks. deal with that shit.
2 put your tongue RIGHT THERE. i've known talking apes who fuck up the punchline of a knock-knock joke yet feel totally comfortable improvising in bed. stop that right this minute. i can show you where exactly you need to be and what exactly you need to be doing if you don't want it to take all goddamned night. you want a crick in your neck? you want to drown down there? fine, keep doing it your way. keep ignoring my corrections to instead trace the alphabet or sing happy birthday or whatever some dumb men's magazine told you to do. every time some dude wants me on me knees this is how it goes, "look homie, this floor is uncomfortable as fuck. please tell me the quickest way to get this done. do i have to rub your balls or what?" then i listen, follow instruction, and my jaw remains located.
3 stop trying to peer over my belly to see what my face looks like. contorted in ecstasy? HARDLY. all you're doing is fucking up the momentum and making your challenge that much more difficult. oh, i know. you want to see the pleasure written across my face. and i appreciate that, but when you stop and try to get a mental picture of just how awesome you are at getting my rocks off you actually cease to GET MY GODDAMNED ROCKS OFF. i hate fucking dudes, because they can't just be fair-to-middling at sex and make a mental note to use while masturbating later, they always have to stop and admire their handiwork. listen, i'm making this noise because i heard a porn star do it. don't stop to revel in how good you are, thereby ruining this orgasm i've been working on since we finished the salad course at dinner. those pauses don't help me. so quit that shit. and keep doing that stabbing thing i mimed a minute ago. i like that.
4 move your ass out of the way so i can roll over and go to the fuck sleep. good for you, i came in your mouth. isn't that nice? i'm awfully proud of you, pumpkin. now put that boner away. oh, you thought i was going to want to have sex after two and a half hours of you trying to find my clitoris with your tongue and mostly failing? yeah fucking right. you better move out of that cool spot, i have to work in the morning. as a matter of fact, you don't live here, so why don't you just go home? i kicked your shoes over by the front door so they'd be easier to find. do you remember where you parked? would you mind throwing that bag in the dumpster? please don't let the cat out when you go. i'll call you in the morning, i promise.
if that doesn't work there's only one possible solution: the problem is you. AND YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG.