Whether by luck or by chance, I’ve had both lovers and acquaintances whose cocks didn’t work they way they were “supposed” to.
We all have an idea of how a dick works, right? That is, it gets hard, you give him a blow job, and then he squirts. I expect the comments to soon be filled with exceptions to this rule, but I believe this is the general idea.
Or perhaps I have this idea simply because X., my first lover, set a pattern of expectation. I’d come in, we’d fling ourselves on one another for about ten minutes of making out, and then we’d get down to the business of sucking or fucking. It was inevitable that within an hour of my stepping in the front door he would have cum. In other words, his penis always worked the way I expected a penis to work: it was his main erogenous zone, and no matter which way you sucked it or stroked it, he was bound to come within a relatively short amount of time. (He also liked to put things up his penis and getting fucked in the ass, but we’ll ignore that for the sake of argument.)
But in several of the boys I’ve known since then, it doesn’t work that way.
The first experience I ever had with a penis that defied my expectations was with a blind date we’ll call C. This was many years ago: I’d just entered college, I think I’d had sex once, and I thought the internet was where you looked stuff up on Wikipedia. You know, stuff like where Iraq was or the profile of Virginia Woolf.
But anyway, I’d had a few conversations over IM with this boy before I actually met him in the flesh. Somehow it came up that his penis was extraordinarily large, and he told me that it was also curiously insensitive. He claimed that he could squeeze it “until my knuckles turn white” and he wouldn’t feel a thing. When I mentioned this to one of his guy friends, deploring C. for lying, the mutual friend exclaimed that it was entirely true. “I’ve seen C. hit people with it!” he told me.
The further confirmation that C. wasn’t lying about his dick’s cartoonish size came when I saw its outline through his pants leg later on the night of our first date, and this probably contributed to it also being our last. I had a irrational fear of big dicks, sex with X.’s normal dick still being an uncomfortable proposition at the best of times. But even though we never fucked, I never forgot C.’s truly gigantic dick and his admission of insensitivity.
I’ve known, too, males who couldn’t come right away. Now, I understand lots of women will wonder why the hell I am complaining, but in my early days of cock sucking, when I wanted like mad to meet X.’s exacting standards (he himself claimed he had learned how to deep throat with popsicles), if a boy didn’t come within twenty minutes or less I would worry that I was doing something wrong. That I am still prey to this fear might also have something to do with my one night stand with Constantine, but more about him later.
I don’t know why, but it took me a while to realize that men could hold back their orgasms. Jaime calls it being “tantric”, used as a verb. (“I’m still tantric”, he’ll say, if I ask him if he’s cum.) The BHM is another one with unbelievable stamina. He gets hard and stays hard for the two to four hours we’re usually at play, but hardly ever shoots. He has told me that he’s always been this way, no tantric practice required. Usually we’ll bang away, go to sleep, and then I’ll suck him off the next morning, when I’ll finally have the pleasure of watching his sperm flow onto his big belly with its peach-colored stretch marks. (Which is really quite a pretty sight, in my opinion).
And then there is Constantine, the Ur-boy of insensitive dicks.
I don’t, oddly enough, remember much about his dick except that it was white and smaller than X.’s—quite natural, since I didn’t get a very good look at it. The the whole time we were fucking, and that went for several hours, it was either in me or in my mouth.
In my mouth.
(I still remember this with anger.)
He couldn’t get off when I had it in my mouth.
I sucked him until my jaw hurt, but he didn’t even moan. I had mastered, I thought, my technique with X., even though I couldn’t quite deep throat him. I don’t think I quite knew all the niceties of using my hands and pirouetting all around the shaft with my tongue, but he should have come by now. He had moaned and writhed in the first few minutes when I had started, but now he was just lying there. Suddenly I felt my first empathy with X., who, despite his best efforts at fingering me, would often feel my vagina go bone dry. One time he had sat back on his heels and exclaimed, “What am I doing wrong?”
It’s only sensitive on the very end, Constantine told me at last. I was supposed to just rub it on the head. All my painstaking deep throating techniques were worse than useless.
That’s where the anger comes from. How long was he going to go on laying there, hands behind his head, while I worked and worked for no result? I felt like he’d been holding back deliberately, keeping from me the liquid I so craved (for even though I didn’t yet enjoy normal intercourse, I loved swallowing sperm). I had the sneaking suspicion that he was enjoying watching me failing at the one technique I had.
He got up, we switched places. I lay on my back, watched him work his own cock. He came at last mounted atop my chest. It was awkward to stretch my neck to get my lips around the head of his cock before he came, but I had to, for my own pleasure. I swallowed.
That’s usually how it is, he told me. The only way to get yourself off is to do it yourself. No one else knew the exact inner workings of your genitalia except you.
I read a lot of articles about the difference between men and women getting off. The conventional wisdom now is that men are more straightforward, just unzip and plunge in, while a female’s sexuality must be coaxed and teased out…that her mind must be aroused before her the place between her legs can be.
But I have yet to find an article about a man’s dick the way I envision it now: numb here and exquisitely fine there, piebald with sensation. And what must Constantine have envisioned all that time to keep himself hard, if my own technique, my very self and physical body, was not near enough to stroke him to his peak? Perhaps the way men and women get off isn’t so very different after all.
◆ Confused as to who the heck it is that I’m writing about? Check out the Who’s Who of Stuffies.