Yes, you read that right. No, I’m not propositioning you. What I am doing is issuing a challenge to everyone I know, and it’s a fairly simple one: write fellatio in the most glowing, pretty, euphemistic, poetic, metaphorical, image-laden language that you can. It’s tough, well-nigh impossible, actually. I discovered this the other day. Cunnilingus is easy; fellatio is hard (no pun intended). I have two entries for the Fellatio Challenge, written by friends of mine whom I roleplay with, that I’ll post here as examples:
#1
Descending narrow
mountain. Ascend, observe: at
the peak, snow falls up!
This merry-go-round
of springtime, up down and 'round
spinning, creates life.
#2
Her mouth melded over his center and she became his center, he the periphery. He could only catch veiled glimpses of what she was doing through heavy hooded eyes, his eyelashes casting a necessary pall over the sight of her, her red curls sleeping fitfully against his thighs and writhing as if haunted by dreams every time her head, as prophetic and focal as Jerusalem to 12th century scholar monks, shifted the center away and then back. Every time her tongue fell across him, the separation between body and soul ceased to exist. Being was neither unbearably light nor insubstantially heavy - life became triumphantly real, expressed in the movement of her mouth against skin that barely shielded his nerves. When her lips tightened and unfolded into a pout over and over with each undulation of the center, he thought he would sob or scream or die but he could do neither. His body was in his soul and his soul was hers; she took it when she leaned back to expose what had once been his center and then leaned in to stake her claim again. He tried touching her, tried to sooth her distended cheek or express his surrender with a brush to her hand, but he could do those only meekly. In her mouth, he could not move because his existence belonged to her and he could do nothing without her permission, even breath. When he stole gulps of air, he felt guilty because he did not have her express blessing, but only for a moment. The sensation of her mouth and tongue, the cavern from where the four winds blew, cradling and rousing what was once his center engulfed everything he ever was. So powerful was the effect of her liquid, windy caresses that he knew if it lasted much longer, he would physically die because no mortal man was ever meant to be suckled by a mouth that could impart into his soul the music of the planets. In the next moment, when he could hear the mermaids singing, her mouth did something as mysterious as the nature of the trinity and he fell away, shredded and gasping, her purity seeping into him as his life flowed into her, his soul falling, faintly falling like snowflakes onto a wildfire, into the place she had made for him.
Get the idea? This isn’t any kind of a formal contest or competition, just – as the subject says – a challenge. A challenge to you to challenge yourself. I’ll be posting here and to my livejournal the entries I receive from non-SDMBers to share with you all, and I’d love it if you’d post yours here. Or e-mail them to me, or keep them for yourselves, whatever; this really is just a notion I cooked up to get people thinking and writing and isn’t intended to be for anyone’s benefit but those writers who want to try to extend themselves to the challenge. When I finally manage to churn out my own paltry attempt at it, I’ll be posting it here. I hope you all will, too. 
I’m looking forward to seeing people’s attempts, assuming anyone attempts it at all.
w00t. Have fun.