I have never liked my own penis. I have never liked the way it looks specifically, as it was always, to me a rather smallish gristle, kind of an abrupted and discontinued bit of a thing. It was as if some lousy generic model of a penis was hastily installed on my crotch as an afterthought, put on just because one "had to be there".
Don't get me wrong, my penis is very functional and I derive much pleasure from attentions to it, but just from the look of it, it is not a penis I would, myself, enjoy sucking.
It's surrounded by a short mange of scraggily hair, an utterly unmanageable gorse that can't be trimmed in any way that it would look good. Likewise, the head of my penis is more narrow than the shaft, giving it the appearance of a small, blunt spear when hard.
I usually can't imagine calling my penis a "cock". It is too diminutive, like a leftover primitive tool or something. As a rule I am leery of asking anyone to immediately suck on my penis. Yet I do owe my penis a bit of a debt. It was one of the first ones I was ever to see, and to learn to practice giving pleasure to it has of course allowed me to give pleasure to much more handsome ones.
My often deft attentions to penises were cultivated early and beautifully early in my life and I have never had the desire to lose the art. Penises were the first sexual organs I saw with any consistency. I had more access to them than those mysteriously inviting un-things that were the vaginas. It was almost always the penises back then, really, be it in the trailer house bedroom, or in bushes behind the school. It was a penises, wherever they presented themselves, they had matter and took up space, and their being suckled to pleasure was paramount.
I have always been a "sucker" for the gooey pyrotechnics of the male ejaculation: The rush of breath that comes first, the grip that tightens at my ears and then the come warm spurts that fill my delighted mouth… that is just a beautiful rush, you know?
I could more readily negotiate the seeing, the touching and sucking of penises as my life progressed. Penises, thusly, were the first and since then, still, are a long time favorite of sex organs to please with my mouth.
True it is that genitalia of any variation are to me a luscious love fruit. I did take care to learn to please females with my mouth early on as well. I had to, or I would have been marked a cad, otherwise...
Who'd have thought that that dusty blackboard alphabet - scrawled memory really would work if you were to apply yourself to doing every letter with your tongue and lips? Ah but it does!
And, Hmmmm: The lovely smell of a woman's genitalia as it ripens with moistening yearning.... I do love the lick and the suck and the sloppy kiss I can plant on a pussy, feeling, for instance, the prickly mons quiver twixt my lips.
The female pubis has its counterpart for scent in the males scrotum, which has been from birth and subsequent experiences always permeated with this dank, sweet swampy musk, no matter how much it is washed.
Once when I was 17, I sucked another boys penis in a church. We were behind a pillar when he gave me a kiss... We kissed and kissed and grasped at each other like refugees reunited after a long separation. He was two years older and was attending a seminary. Years earlier we had an un-requited tryst at a church retreat. At the time I had only the vaguest knowledge of what his body would do had I the time to touch him the right way, but at that time, also, I was still hard pressed to be able to have that hot white stuff spurt from my own thing.
Back then we had been interrupted by nearly being discovered and from then on never really interacted much till this day years later at the church… You see, back then years before, we both went to the same Catholic school, but he and his family were actually Baptist evangelicals, which had put him in the school because we were at least vaguely Christian to them, the apostates that we were! It was mostly because of our school's academics that these folks sent their son to be educated among us dirty "Romans.
But here, years later, were utterly hidden behind the pillar in the then empty sanctum, initially just quietly talking, me longingly thinking of one that night when our penises had but only brushed against one another, when this other boy gently took my hand, turned me to him, and suddenly gave me a kiss.
After that we kissed each other in a frenzy. We kissed and grasped at each other like long lost refugees who were just recently reunited. I so wanted my eventual attentions to him to make that hot, white goop to spurt out of his thing, and I so wanted those attentions to be with my mouth.
You see, mouth is of more of a memorizing organ than we often think, but it makes sense that it is because that it was the first way we as beings have ever experienced the world. We often, are first to taste whatever it is, or such, so lollipop, so nasty medicine, so tepid airline food, so salty pre-ejaculate.
And isn’t is so therefore so preferable to me at times to drop every care I have in the world and lay out for some lucky humanoid an exuberant genital kiss? And to kiss what and whenever. Well to this very day I remember that savage kissing behind that pillar and our rasping breath when we suddenly heard some celebrants file in and a small private mass was suddenly beginning.
We stared at each other, wide eyed. What were we to do? Being discovered was certainly not an option, but his stiffened thing was straining against his pants and there was no choice about what to do: I continued my explorations, fumbling at his belt, and popped a button off when trying to open his pants.
It fell to the stone floor and made a tiny but distinct "clink".
His eyes pleaded with me then as if he didn't want me to engulf the bulb of his cock head with my lips. I of course had to ignore this imploration and I began to suck his cock. Whereas I could of course no longer see his face, from the whispering entreaties and gasping noises he was making, I felt quite assured that an expression of disapproval was no longer on his face.
I suckled and flicked and lolled my tongue on the tip of his penis, sliding my lips up and down his taut shaft, feeling his stray strands of pubic hair tickle my nose. The smell of his whole pleasure-appendage was intoxicating, a lovely suffocating mixture of sweat, summer grass and wanton, hot darkness. There was more and more of a slipperiness to what I was sucking and slurping now: His pre cum was oozing to mix with my saliva. This made me take him into my mouth deeper, harder and more insistently till there was a muffled crying out and I suddenly felt a gooey little stream pulse out against the roof of my mouth.
I disengaged and took a deep breath as a spot of his sperm hit my coat sleeve and another dolloped the leg of my pants. I quickly popped his now spurting thing back into my mouth so as to not lose anymore of his hot, salty, sluice of jism.
I so wanted to beam with joy but as I did his goop dribbled out over my cheek as I messily swallowed and I couldn't help but giggle.
The boy's breath slowed, I got to my feet and I looked in his eyes and saw that they seemed glazed, showing a blissful sedation as he leaned, smiling, with his back against the wall.
We waited a few minutes for the service to end and the celebrants and officiants to leave before we emerged from our secret place. After that we sought each other out to make love whenever and wherever we could.
To this day, whenever I see a church, I respect in its manifestation, the sacred, but I also love the possibility of the existence within that church, of what could be lusciously and beautifully profane...
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<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/gay-male/memoirs-of-a-secret-girl-part-1.aspx">Memoirs of a Secret Girl, Part 1</a>