I remember the first time I saw a picture of a penis. I was in the second grade and my mom was expecting. I grasped the general concept of where babies came from but really just did not understand what exactly was going on down below on the other half of the genetic spectrum.
We took a class trip to the library and I can vividly remember sneaking away from the group to seek out any book that could provide some clarification for my impending need for visual evidence. I tucked myself away, slowly scanned the index and fingered the pages to the clinical display of cock.
I was baffled. How in the world did boy get anything done? Wasn’t walking difficult? Could you move it with your mind?
It would be little under a decade later that I found out that penis was not nearly as baffling as I had expected and walking was actually the least of their worries.
I am sure Freud would have a thing or two to say about this but after years of dabbling, I have come to accept that I truly do love penis. The array of shapes and sizes entices every inch of my budding libido and not since my discovery of the Ikea catalogue has my mind played mix’n’match so often – trying to pair your expectations with ethnicity is not a guarantee, height with size is a myth, and the finger span rule is a load of crap.
Like men themselves, each penis is custom designed to offer it’s own special talent. Some curve, some grow to epic proportions…and some ring true to the whole “what you see is what you get” thing. I have never lied when asked during an afternoon brunch spill session on my latest conquest, but I have also never knocked a dude by dismissing his dick as nothing more than a few extra inches of hardened flesh. I really don’t think it is fair to rag on someone for something they can’t help but I firmly believe that it is possible to overcome such obstacles with a little hard work and dedication (i.e cunnilingus).
What I have learned along the way is that the average male knows little to nothing about their own junk. They don’t really understand how it works and are satisfied in the simplistic approach that if it starts to swell, they should repeat the action until it explodes – if only I could take the same approach. Sometimes I feel like I am slightly more obsessed with the males member than most males.
I was hooking up with this uncircumcised beauty with a rather large condom size. By rather large, I mean “watch your fucking angles before you end up poking my bellybutton” kind of depth. It was all fun and games until one day, upon close inspection, I realized that one side of his foreskin didn’t seem to go down as far as the other side. “I’m a halfie” he offered when I brought it up. Having no idea what the hell he was talking about I began researching. This beautiful specimen had gone twenty three years of his life with a broken dick and had no idea (and unfortunately was too pretty to understand the complexity of said issue which is probably why it never worked out for us).
Females would die before they allowed such a thing to happen. We are obsessed with waxing rituals, we have all inspected the inner depths with a hand-held mirror and some of us have even douched with some “spring rain” scented liquid that has probably left us with a yeast infection that smells nothing like a tropical rainstorm. I have heard of women shying away from having their clitoris tongued, their moistened lips touched, and their g-spot stroked with ready fingers in fear of having their lady bits judged. Blame it on those Vagina Monologues, but in my experience, as long as they can stick it in, no self-respecting male is going to sit there and pass judgement on the warm waters that are going to harbour his steamboat.
I have seen thumb sized, I have felt skinny mini’s and I have had to say “there is no chance in hell that is going inside me” to the unsuspecting monster trucks. The differences is what make them each unique and the obliviousness toward just how much females (and some saucy males) find pleasure in each and every one of them is what makes the “d” so much more endearing – so let’s take a moment to appreciate what we’ve got and explore what we don’t because at the end of the day, if it feels good, we should probably be doing it.
