[DRAFT: 1]

There is something… attractive(?)…

No.

Compelling?

Hmmm…

:: brief pause while Feve rolls the taste of that descriptor round her tongue ::

Yes. I think ‘compelling’ is accurate.

*clears throat*

*poises fingers over keyboard*

*starts again*

[DRAFT 2]

There is something compelling about a penis in its natural state.

:: insert internal monologue/argument about {1} the need for a disclaimer; as in, DISCLAIMER: If you have a penis attached to your body, let it be absolutely clear that I give zero fucks about *your* penis-in-specific, and {2} my preference for de-emphasizing the penis and focusing on what is actually attractive on/about a man… and {3} OH FFS, there’s that word ‘attractive’ again and no doubt since I’m choosing not to use ‘attractive’ to describe the penis, some bloody nutter reading this is going to have a piss-fest about how “Feve thinks dicks are ugly!” when that’s not the point AT ALL ::

*rolls shoulders*

*cricks neck*

*starts again*

[DRAFT 3]

While, generally speaking, I feel there is an overemphasis on the penis — particularly on porn-fed ideals of What A Penis Should Do And Be (huge! always erect! able to fuck non-stop for hours! the centerpoint of pleasure-focus in partnered sex!) — in mainstream erotic material, I also feel there is not enough emphasis on – in fact, nearly zero positive attention paid to – the penis in its natural state.

There is, to me, something quite compelling about the relaxed naturalness of my lover’s (/lovers’) penis(/es).

Sometimes – admittedly – I am drawn to touch him when he is un-aroused for the specific purpose of bringing about the opposite effect: feathering my fingertips over his withdrawn tip, enticing his head to peak ever further outward, seeking more; hugging my fingers around what’s showing of his shaft, squeezing gently with an upward tug, feeling the accordion stretch elongate slowly as I lazily stroke; cupping his balls, feeling their hide-and-seek play loose against my palm, watching as they retract higher and tighter to his body as his cock twitches and grows, his heartbeat pulsing in the veins that strain from frenulum to perineum.

Do I touch him when he’s not hard because I wish to change that condition? Yes. Definitely. I like to see his physical reactions, to feel the changes I am causing, to witness his response.

It’s…

Intimate.

Arousing.

Heady.

But mostly, whether he becomes physically aroused or not, I just like to touch him when he’s relaxed. When he’s NOT hard. When not only is “SEX!” not the end goal, but when it’s also not even a kick-off thought.

I like the way he opens his body to me. Trusting. Vulnerable.

I like the feel – physically and emotionally – of holding him while his tenderest bits are at their most defenseless. The feeling of connecting. Exploring. Learning (and re-learning) his body.

Tracing the crease where groin meets thigh.

Strumming. Petting.

Hugging. Holding.

Cradling. Embracing.

Possessing.

I have rolled over, half-awake in the night, to wrap an arm around his waist, draping my elbow over his hip and reaching down his front to hold his un-hard in my hand before drifting back to sleep again.

And upon waking in the morning, I have pinned him – gently; he on his back, me on my side, one leg thrown over his thighs – with my head resting in the crook of his shoulder, trailing my fingers in tender explorations over his torso and groin, holding his softness secure in my hands.

I have watched his cock grow from placid to erect to calm again — sometimes with orgasm, sometimes without — and felt the changes in his penis through varying states of wakefulness. (And plan to continue to do so for many years to come.)

Do I like the feel of his cock when it’s hard?

Yes.

Oh yes.

Absolutely.

But there is also something incredibly compelling about my lover’s penis when it’s in its natural state.

:: sigh ::

:: smiling, singular nod ::

*presses publish*

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