similarly to the sentiment expressed by sara bereilles lyrics in her chorus for “love song”, i’m a bit torn at the idea of writing this ode, merely because i was encouraged to write it by the man who’s penis i currently enjoy. or shall i say “love”? i dont know, we may be splitting hairs with this one, but the point still remains that it feels weird to write about my love of penis’ after being asked to do so. something about the expectation of a good ode just takes all the fun out of it. but i’m a good writer, aren’t i? so i’ll do this in a way that makes me happy, and maybe in the end it will make him happy to.
i feel i’ve somehow missed an opportunity for a sexual parallel there, but i’ll bypass my desire to be clever and cheeky and get into the meat of why were here (oh no, now i want to make a meat reference to penis’, ugh, my childish brain is the bane of my elegant self’s existence. now if i can shut that side of my gemini self up for a little while i have some serious worshiping to express here).
i’ve loved cock for quite some time -please no one show this to my mother, or my pastor (i’m just kidding i dont have a pastor). as you know i’ve always been in tune with may sexuality and sensuality, but that’s not what i’m talking about here. what i’m talking about is much more big picture than that. more emotional, spiritual, biblical, and representational than just sex.
i think its starts for me in anatomy, the way we are engineered differently as to fit, one inside the other. how holes and pressure points are placed into us in ways that are designed to arouse and create pleasure, a gift to each other, a connection- but i’ll go into that more in a moment.
i love the shape of a penis, with or without foreskin (yes, i’ve had them both) and although i prefer without, both are beautiful and each bit of skin serves to that aforementioned purpose.
i love how my mans penis is an extension of the man i love, a special part of him that i can touch, grip, fondle and play with that connects me to him and who he is. a part of him that’s just for me and only me.
when i look down at a mans penis, particularly that of a man whom i love, i’m compelled to touch it- just so eager for it- and for the joy and connection and smiles and satisfaction I can bring to it and to my man by touching it and then vice versa. i love that i can relax my man through his penis; calm him down, make his day brighter, better, or more peaceful. i love that i can energize him through it, even when he thinks he’s exhausted or “has nothing left”.
i love how its placed so below his face such that when i’m pleasing him i can look up at him and see a smile on his face.
i love how at its most animalistic level the penis is there to seed me, to implant the other part necessary for the building of a life, a combined human. there would be no life without a penis (dont go all anatomy about the semen coming from the balls and test tube conception- i was an egg donor ya’ll, i dont need the lesson).
i love how a mans penis is as unique as his fingerprint, with different color patterns that can unveil themselves as it gets harder and how the veins get to present themselves when they’re doing their job. i love the soft skin on a flaccid penis, how it hides a little (if you’re a grower) or how it hangs with its weight (if you’re a shower). i love the bumps and curves that my hand can feel as i explore an erect shaft. i love the way it feels in my mouth when i’ve been able to unlock my throat (which by the way will never happen unless a feeling of true submission and a desire to give myself fully).
i love how a penis can connect me to my man, how he can change my entire chemistry with it, how he can direct my body and my mood with it.
i know i have more to add here, but for now i think i’ve covered a few good bullet points.