As I have journeyed down this path of sobriety and self-discovery, it has become glaringly obvious to me that I always used alcohol to treat my mood disorder. It never occurred to me that I should see a therapist and take real medicine to treat my condition, I just thought everyone’s experience of life was like mine.
Since I have made changes and have my sexy friend now, I realize how much of my life I really missed out on, always being numb and unaware. I didn’t even know I was different or had a disorder until I set myself free of that toxic relationship with alcohol. It’s bittersweet to look back on my life now that I have a proper diagnosis and treatment path.
The best thing about all of it is that I wouldn’t be where I am now with my amazing friend Deep had my path been any different. The butterfly effect. I thank my lucky stars every time that rigid throbbing cock is gagging me and I’m desperately choosing between throat pleasure and air. There is no better feeling in the world to me.
We have been making a regular practice of deepthroat for 9 months now. There’s not much we haven’t tried, and yet it still is so exciting and feels so amazing every time. After all this time, you would think that eventually we’d have a not-so-good session. Well, it finally happened but I refuse to believe the honeymoon is over.
With anything in life, poor planning and preparation can make things less easy. I have always made it a point to eat very light on session days. It’s just good practice and helps lessen my gag reflex if my stomach is empty. Any deepthroat queen can tell you this tip. I am in the midst of a manic episode, and decided without thinking to order pizza and eat A LOT of it because I’d smoked some weed to take the edge off.
By the time Deep arrived, I was in stage 3 heartburn status and also gassy and bloated from all the carbs because this is not something I hardly ever eat, let alone fucking devour like a pig and never before a deepthroat session! What the hell was I thinking? Oh, I wasn’t. Shit.
I gave Deep a warning, and we agreed that perhaps it was a bad idea to proceed because nothing would be worse than puking up pizza on his dick and ruining all the progress we made over the past 9 months. It would actually be a fucking tragedy, possibly something we could never come back from.
I didn’t want *nothing* to happen, so I went ahead with a blowjob and agreed to tap out if I felt any stomach issues coming on. It was the hardest thing ever to NOT put it in my throat, but I was super aware of the consequences. Needless to say, a mere blowjob was not enough to keep Deep ‘excited’ and the whole endeavor simply went limp (cue sad trumpet sound *wah* *wah*)
I suppose it definitely could have been much worse, but certainly was not our best effort and it was the worst one to date. Perhaps we have become comfortable and complacent, but it gives me motivation to be better. It showed me that even the seemingly most perfect thing is fallible, we are all human, and we can do better next time. I’m looking forward to my next chapter, Deepthroat Redemption
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/10ql2g7/f_deepthroat_disorder