I grew up as an emotionally insecure boy, affected by social isolation. On top of that, I had a mild disability I wasn't fully aware of.
I had phimosis. I was able to pee and later procreate, but I didn't have any sensitivity at the tip of my penis. I never played at the tip, which was always inflamed at the urethral opening. Any attempt to pull back the skin caused me weeklong pain. So my glans and corona have never been exposed and lay dormant for most of my life.
Girls can be similarly affected, if they are stuck behind a thick, non-retractable clitoral hood. The consequences on sexual development can be far-reaching, and I wasn't aware of them, despite my inclination for introverted soul searching.
At age seventeen, I asked my best friend, "why are all guys so preoccupied with their penises?" After all, the books said semen was produced in testicles, and the penis was merely a delivery mechanism.
I never masturbated as a teenager. Trouble is semen still needs to come out, so once every two to three months I woke up with a pyjama full of sticky mess. Then, at twenty-three, a girl came and took matters into her hand. I begged her not to pull back my skin, but pull in forward instead.
Intercourse followed, but was mildly painful. I still had a deep, animalistic desire to put my penis into her vagina. Fucking women is a great experience, even if it was only a mental desire from my part.
Paradoxically, my disability made me a better lover. I wasn't entirely immune to premature ejaculation, but it rarely happened. In most cases, I took my time, carefully exploring the insides, to avoid any pain. After about ten to fifteen minutes, I managed to ejaculate. By that time, my girlfriend was at her sixth orgasm. She always came back for more.
My penis, while useless for me in terms of sensual pleasure, was quite big at 18.5cm (7.5"). In fact, it felt too big, and I was always worried it would pop up at the top of my swimsuit.
As a teenager, I worried girls will notice my frequent erections. Later, in my adult years, I thought this was just a childish fantasy of mine. At an older age, reading female sex stories, I realise I was right to worry. My wife told me I had a reputation for being unapproachable.
Indeed, I recall the feeling when girls challenged me all around, and I indicated I wasn't accepting the sexuality game. When a beautiful girl came into my view, I made a serious effort to behave as if she wasn't beautiful. In reality, girls were messing up my mind, and I felt powerless against their influence.
Something changed after age fifty-eight-and-a half. I became less isolated socially. I had a good job, I was able to provide for my family. At the corporate gym, I was getting appreciative looks. If you have grey hairs and still run on a treadmill, then you are respected. For the first time, I had kind of a peer group among men. Still, something was different in the change room.