Let me introduce myself. I’m a penis. A rather ordinary one
by most standards. My owner is a nice, modest guy, but that’s not to say we
haven’t been on a few naughty adventures together, you know, for a little fun
and experience. He said it was love, but I knew better. I knew hormones when I
felt them.
We’ve been together our whole lives. Our relationship
really began when those idiots tried to behead me right after he was born. For
many years he was clueless. Erect and firm, I would embarrass him pretty often.
That wasn’t my intention, of course. I did what nature prepared me to do. Once
in distress, the little guy shouted, “It’s trying to get bigger.” I chuckled to
myself.
When he finally figured out what else I was made for, he couldn’t
keep his hands off me. That much attention wore me out. To be truthful, I
enjoyed the admiration and being the center of his world. He didn’t show me off
very much, but he talked about me a lot to his friends. I didn’t always
recognize myself in his descriptions though.
As penises, we grow up and get hardened by life. I didn’t
meet my first vagina until later in life than most penises. It was in a rather
swanky hotel room. But enough said about that. Since that first encounter,
through the ups and downs of my life, my owner has kept me pretty much on the
straight and narrow. And I admire him for that.
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