I think, however, that the root of the problem lies with gender miscommunication, with women thinking too much like -- and assuming too much about -- the men they're with. Most women, as I discovered while living in several coed houses, seem to take their genitals for granted at least as much as men do. Yet they also fear the opinions of their lovers. "It's gross," even when falling from female lips, is often simply a paraphrase for what women think their brothers or boyfriends would say.

Other forms of ventriloquism also exist. "You want to have sex, but I'm not ready," a woman once told me as I kissed her stomach. "I know," I said. We had already discussed the issue, and I actually hadn't decided whether I was ready or not. She was an educated, experienced woman, and yet she couldn't see cunnilingus as anything but an on-ramp, a means to an end she assumed I wanted. She had known me for years, but once we entered the bedroom, the reset button had been pushed. In her mind, I had become another David, despite much, if not all, evidence to the contrary.

Women like her, and those who have told me that they fear it will take too long for them to come while a man is under the covers, ignore the fact that most men -- in my experience at least -- love cunnilingus. I don't know a single man who doesn't.

Why? "Anything that satisfies a woman a man will do," says one friend of mine, a student at Harvard Business School. That is a big part of it. It's an amazing feeling to satisfy a woman, and cunnilingus is the most foolproof way to do it. Even men who follow the late comedian Sam Kinison's advice to "lick the alphabet" can't help doing a decent job.

Yet the rewards run deeper. Men don't always dive for the gold of a woman's orgasm. We find our own subtle treasures, and most of them are psychological. Going down on a woman lets us skirt the weight of assumed sexual selfishness, lets us prove that we're not one of those bastards you might have met in a bar. It also minimizes our own performance phobia. Women can't see what we're doing, our tongues will never need Viagra and we've all got a similarly sized piece of equipment. Snacking also slows things down, increasing intimacy by allowing some blood to flow back into our brains.

But most of all, snacking is a five-sense experience that places us up close and personal in a way that no other act can. Most vaginas smell and taste pleasantly mild; and perhaps all those glimpses of porn magazines with camera close-ups of the inner sanctum have something to do with the attraction. But for the vast majority of men -- those who mentally salivate for more feminine knowledge -- there's nothing better than becoming the camera, and more. To see, taste, touch, hear and smell the essence of a woman is to become a successful explorer, a modern Jacques Cousteau, a teacher and an A-plus student, all at the same time.

Sometimes we forget this, making a beeline for intercourse, masking our deeper desires and lazily accepting the time-honored role of Tarzan -- the "me man, me want sex" type of guy. But few women seem capable of thinking we're anything more. The yuck factor remains all too common, and the widespread miscalculations about men appear to be syndicated, like the God-awful episodes of "Married ... With Children."

It doesn't have to be this way. Despite being a bunch of blue-collar Massachusetts meatheads and washed-up jocks who (occasionally) play drinking games, my friends and I got over the cultural stereotypes -- though we had to make up a stupid name to do it. Women stand only to gain. The tongue, after all, is an amazingly strong and versatile muscle. For their own sake, women should learn to accept both their bodies and men's genuine desire to pleasure them. Since women mature so much faster than men, I don't imagine it will be too hard.

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