Penis Envy
PENIS ENV
Make no mistake. I really love my penis. I love it when it is soft and flaccid. I love it when it is mildly congested with blood, slightly stiff, but not yet hard. And I really loved it when was hard, battle-ready, throbbing, heavy-veined, almost painfully blood-filled. (Alas that is much in my past.) And I loved it when it had done it duty (pleasure) and was softening, moist with lubrications not my own, and still throbbing with sensations.
I love the fact that, like most Americans of my generation, I was circumcised. This means my beautiful glans, helmet shaped, with a modest meatus at the tip, is always visible, and available to fondle, stroke, and squeeze between my fingers. I know this is supposed to make it less sensitive…but I’m not so sure. I love to take my glans by the back of the helmet and, well, just hold it, pull a little, hold, squeeze…you get the idea. Sometimes after I do this for a while, a small drop of precum will show at the meatus. Yumm. Actually even as I write these words, precum is forming. Double yumm.
I love the shaft of my penis, especially when it engorges a little, and stiffens. There are some veins still showing, especially when a bit of stiffening occurs. When I squeeze it when it is like this, the sensation that runs into my stomach is grand.
I love my penis. Not a day goes by when I don’t greet it lovingly in the morning, or play with the glans in the evening. When are constant companions. When I was younger, much younger, I was a gymnast and diver, and very limber. I found if I put a wash cloth under my erect penis, and bent over double, I would just reach the tip of my penis and even take the glans into my mouth. I even ejaculated when doing this. I gave myself my first blow job.
showiWhen
You may wonder why I haven’t called it my cock. Penis seems like such a formal term for such a loved friend. I’ll explain my thought.
A penis is part of a man’s body, useful, pleasureful, beautiful. A cock is what happens when a penis gets its dander up. Have the right finger-play, see the right stimulating visual materials, have the right personal come-on, even day dream the right (wrong?) thoughts, and you are off to the races. Blood begins to flow into the erectile material, the glans swells, darkens, the testicles retract (presumably getting out of the way of action), and, voila, penis becomes cock, THE cock, cock of the walk, COCK! It’s no wonder mothers don’t teach they baby boys about cocks, but call them peepees, winkies, and, yes, penises. The cock is something a boy has to discover for himself.
I remember my first time. I think I was eleven or twelve, and was occupying myself in my bed room, when I noticed that my penis had become quite stiff. I had experienced this on the school yard, when on the climbing poles, I suddenly experienced a wonderful feeling in the region. One of the girls accused me of “having a happy time”. Apparently she was not unfamiliar with the sensation.
Back to my penis, I pulled my pants down, freeing the stiff little cock (yes, I had discovered my cock). I stripped down to the naked, and began to explore this new wonder. I tickled, gripped, stroked, and quite by accident made the discovery untold numbers of boys made before me, the finger-circling stroking motion that quite soon resulted in an overwhelmingly wonderful feeling at the root of my cock, and a quick spurt of white stuff. Hello, sperm. After that hardly a day passed without a repeat performance.
I no longer just had a penis. I had a cock, with all the rights and perils attendant thereto.
Now the penis is an inherently private thing. But the cock is social.
I dated a number girls through high school, with whom I reached 1st or 2nd base, well, 2nd base only with one…and my cock was silent. Then in college I dated my future wife, and we swept through two bases and headed towards third. One beautiful summer night we were parked in a lot overlooking the lake, and things were heating up. Suddenly I was aware my cock was clamoring to be set free. Let me out! Let me out! I want to meet this girl, my cock insisted. Obediently I unzipped and liberated him into the soft night. She made a small sound as I took her hand and pressed it to my throbbing master. We necked a while after that, but things didn’t progress,not that night. If I remember right, the next time we we parked, she did the liberating.
The thing is this: the penis is more or less under our control. The cock is a free spirit. It never rests in pursuit of the perfect resting place, whether that be a soft warm mouth or an equally soft, hair-encircled, warm, wet pleasure pot.
I have never experienced the mouth routine…no, wait, with some women I was dating. In my naïvete I had not realized how many women like the taste of cock. But then again, I really got to like the taste of vagina and clitoris. My cock still throbs at the thought.
But I have never had a man’s cock in my mouth, though I have seen many pictures that make my mouth itch. Nor has my cock resided on a man’s tongue. But there is time.
Make no mistake. I really love my penis. I love it when it is soft and flaccid. I love it when it is mildly congested with blood, slightly stiff, but not yet hard. And I really loved it when was hard, battle-ready, throbbing, heavy-veined, almost painfully blood-filled. (Alas that is much in my past.) And I loved it when it had done it duty (pleasure) and was softening, moist with lubrications not my own, and still throbbing with sensations.
I love the fact that, like most Americans of my generation, I was circumcised. This means my beautiful glans, helmet shaped, with a modest meatus at the tip, is always visible, and available to fondle, stroke, and squeeze between my fingers. I know this is supposed to make it less sensitive…but I’m not so sure. I love to take my glans by the back of the helmet and, well, just hold it, pull a little, hold, squeeze…you get the idea. Sometimes after I do this for a while, a small drop of precum will show at the meatus. Yumm. Actually even as I write these words, precum is forming. Double yumm.
I love the shaft of my penis, especially when it engorges a little, and stiffens. There are some veins still showing, especially when a bit of stiffening occurs. When I squeeze it when it is like this, the sensation that runs into my stomach is grand.
I love my penis. Not a day goes by when I don’t greet it lovingly in the morning, or play with the glans in the evening. When are constant companions. When I was younger, much younger, I was a gymnast and diver, and very limber. I found if I put a wash cloth under my erect penis, and bent over double, I would just reach the tip of my penis and even take the glans into my mouth. I even ejaculated when doing this. I gave myself my first blow job.
showiWhen
You may wonder why I haven’t called it my cock. Penis seems like such a formal term for such a loved friend. I’ll explain my thought.
A penis is part of a man’s body, useful, pleasureful, beautiful. A cock is what happens when a penis gets its dander up. Have the right finger-play, see the right stimulating visual materials, have the right personal come-on, even day dream the right (wrong?) thoughts, and you are off to the races. Blood begins to flow into the erectile material, the glans swells, darkens, the testicles retract (presumably getting out of the way of action), and, voila, penis becomes cock, THE cock, cock of the walk, COCK! It’s no wonder mothers don’t teach they baby boys about cocks, but call them peepees, winkies, and, yes, penises. The cock is something a boy has to discover for himself.
I remember my first time. I think I was eleven or twelve, and was occupying myself in my bed room, when I noticed that my penis had become quite stiff. I had experienced this on the school yard, when on the climbing poles, I suddenly experienced a wonderful feeling in the region. One of the girls accused me of “having a happy time”. Apparently she was not unfamiliar with the sensation.
Back to my penis, I pulled my pants down, freeing the stiff little cock (yes, I had discovered my cock). I stripped down to the naked, and began to explore this new wonder. I tickled, gripped, stroked, and quite by accident made the discovery untold numbers of boys made before me, the finger-circling stroking motion that quite soon resulted in an overwhelmingly wonderful feeling at the root of my cock, and a quick spurt of white stuff. Hello, sperm. After that hardly a day passed without a repeat performance.
I no longer just had a penis. I had a cock, with all the rights and perils attendant thereto.
Now the penis is an inherently private thing. But the cock is social.
I dated a number girls through high school, with whom I reached 1st or 2nd base, well, 2nd base only with one…and my cock was silent. Then in college I dated my future wife, and we swept through two bases and headed towards third. One beautiful summer night we were parked in a lot overlooking the lake, and things were heating up. Suddenly I was aware my cock was clamoring to be set free. Let me out! Let me out! I want to meet this girl, my cock insisted. Obediently I unzipped and liberated him into the soft night. She made a small sound as I took her hand and pressed it to my throbbing master. We necked a while after that, but things didn’t progress,not that night. If I remember right, the next time we we parked, she did the liberating.
The thing is this: the penis is more or less under our control. The cock is a free spirit. It never rests in pursuit of the perfect resting place, whether that be a soft warm mouth or an equally soft, hair-encircled, warm, wet pleasure pot.
I have never experienced the mouth routine…no, wait, with some women I was dating. In my naïvete I had not realized how many women like the taste of cock. But then again, I really got to like the taste of vagina and clitoris. My cock still throbs at the thought.
But I have never had a man’s cock in my mouth, though I have seen many pictures that make my mouth itch. Nor has my cock resided on a man’s tongue. But there is time.
4 years ago