On a Friday after a very long week working on a very stressful and a not-so-very  rewarding project, I attended a fellatio class. A girlfriend invited me.  It was hosted by a friend of hers, sort of a Tupperware/Pampered Chef party of pleasure.  Sure I had my thoughts, questions and reservations.

“Hell, I could TEACH this class.” As Kanye/Beyonce said, “I gotta big ego…” daphne debauchee has a stadium sized one.

“This is kinda like a lame ass episode of Real Sex.”  But, don’t you miss that series? I learned sooo much.  If you’re listening, HBO, bring it back.  Please. Or, more like a rekindling of Sex and the City’s Was It Good For You? episode. ”  You know the one when Miranda gets shot in the hair by a loaded weapon during the tantric sex workshop.

“Will they have cocktails?”  With a bottle of Grey Goose tucked into my Marcie tote (just in case), I silenced my inner queries,  put my bravado in check and drove (yes, I drove!) on over.

Ladies began to assemble and I was very surprised to see that it was a very diverse audience.  Older ladies, younger ladies, pretty ladies, not-so-fortunate ladies, VPs, execs, admins, butchers, bakers, candlestick makers all represented.  All represented and were ready to suck up all the knowledge proffered. We got to know each other a little as we waited for our instructor to appear.  There were snacks and drinks.  Not snacks and drinks I enjoy, but they were there.  Goose stayed in tote.

There was a giddiness, akin to the day I first played spin the bottle at Kim Perkarske’s 12 year old birthday party, in the air.  We sat, drank and wasted waited.

The instructor finally made her ENTRANCE with her version of Sweetie from Real Housewives of ATL in tow.  “Stop that eating!!!” she yelled.  You can’t give good head on a full stomach!!!” I rolled my eyes.  I already know that, boo.  That’s why I’m only drinking and everyone knows alcohol and fellatio go together like butts and g-strings.

More to come…