Blog Dis
Said the vagina to the penis
2024-02-29
Said the Vagina to the Penis, "I am the ear with an itch and you are the finger with a scratch and when you stick your finger into my ear and scratch, which feels better, the ear or the finger?" No argument here. The ear feels better than the finger, tho' the finger would no doubt contest this statement.
The world is a better place because of our sex organs. Me being in possession of a vagina means that my perspective is one-sided, as are all the men out there in possession of a penis. One of my readers had remarked a few weeks back that my mind must never sleep. True. I live in a perpetual state of contemplation. When I shut my brain down at the end of the work day, I think about every other subject under the sun, including the wonderful penis.
Yes, men and their penises. Some women would have you believe men's brains are located in this erogenous zone, that the brain and penis cannot be operated simultaneously and that the penis invariably wins out. Maybe this is true. If I had a penis, I'd more than likely want to touch my full package at every opportunity. And some of my platonic male friends, tell me that if they had a vagina they'd hoist their legs into the air all the day long, gazing at themselves in a mirror. Well, yeah... big time. Done that. Still do this. I've had many a good gander and I believe my piece of anatomy looks just dandy. It's no mystery that men name their penises. Same goes for women. We name ours too. I've called mine Virginia in the past, which I feel is a reasonably good name for a woman's second most essential body part - second to her brain. I dated a man who insisted I call his Seymour, so I happily played along with his name-game and more often than not, he showed me time and again that Seymour had my eye. To borrow an accepted, modern phrase: He was a grower, not a shower.
All this talk of the penis makes me think of probably one of the most embarrassing moments of my life in the business world. I was sitting in my office waiting on hold for a client to come back on line. My colleague entered my office and we began talking about an article I had digested on penile extension surgery. I forgot that I put the line on speaker, so I'd know when my caller would return. You guessed it. My colleague and I found the article enthralling and we discussed in great detail the machinations of the surgery, whereby the full shaft is not fully extended outside the pubic bone bcus in fact there's at least two inches of penis retracted inside. Surgeons cut into the bone and pull out the additional length, thereby turning a stubby into a Long John, or rather a longer Johnny, to make everyone happier (partner included no doubt). Little did I know that my client had returned to the call and kept his mouth shut, while I rambled on like an idiot about how fascinating this surgery is and how it could transform the life of a man. My client only finally announced his presence when he howled with laughter and then advised me that our dialogue was the most interesting conversation he'd ever eves-dropped on in his life. Sneaky bastard! 😅I turned fourteen shades of crimson but thankfully, the depth of my embarrassment couldn't be transmitted over the phone, as there was no video connection.
Currently, I don't have a steady SO in my life and I fear that I'm coming across as shallow in speaking about the opposite sex in this fashion, reducing them to a body part. But this post is about penises and their effect on life and, as much as men drive me bonkers with their consistently erratic, selfish and self-serving behaviour, I have to embrace truth: I sorely miss having a penis in my life... er, that is a sometimes man. Such are the drought periods that we each will invariably have to endure in our life. There will be times when you get more than you can handle, when you get just enough to handle, and when you hardly get any of the thing that you think you can handle. The pendulum swings back and forth, and back and forth. To make matters worse, we're not currently in the summer months, when as a pathetic consolation, I could suck on frozen popsicles to give me that false-sensation of performing high-wire tricks, all the while wondering to myself, do I still have it? Of course I do! Silly girl!
A woman of skill and imagination never loses her special touch in between the sheets. We just become a little out of practice, that's all, because desire is ever-present. Desire grows in intensity, enhanced when we face head on the absence of the very thing we desire most.... which is why I needed to write this blog post. 💃😘🌹
Wish me luck that my drought ends soon. And, if you're wondering why I didn't delve into the Trans male angle, as a corollary to this post, perhaps another time... or I could retort with a snarky reply, "Write your own penis-themed blog, 'cuz this one's mine."
The world is a better place because of our sex organs. Me being in possession of a vagina means that my perspective is one-sided, as are all the men out there in possession of a penis. One of my readers had remarked a few weeks back that my mind must never sleep. True. I live in a perpetual state of contemplation. When I shut my brain down at the end of the work day, I think about every other subject under the sun, including the wonderful penis.
Yes, men and their penises. Some women would have you believe men's brains are located in this erogenous zone, that the brain and penis cannot be operated simultaneously and that the penis invariably wins out. Maybe this is true. If I had a penis, I'd more than likely want to touch my full package at every opportunity. And some of my platonic male friends, tell me that if they had a vagina they'd hoist their legs into the air all the day long, gazing at themselves in a mirror. Well, yeah... big time. Done that. Still do this. I've had many a good gander and I believe my piece of anatomy looks just dandy. It's no mystery that men name their penises. Same goes for women. We name ours too. I've called mine Virginia in the past, which I feel is a reasonably good name for a woman's second most essential body part - second to her brain. I dated a man who insisted I call his Seymour, so I happily played along with his name-game and more often than not, he showed me time and again that Seymour had my eye. To borrow an accepted, modern phrase: He was a grower, not a shower.
All this talk of the penis makes me think of probably one of the most embarrassing moments of my life in the business world. I was sitting in my office waiting on hold for a client to come back on line. My colleague entered my office and we began talking about an article I had digested on penile extension surgery. I forgot that I put the line on speaker, so I'd know when my caller would return. You guessed it. My colleague and I found the article enthralling and we discussed in great detail the machinations of the surgery, whereby the full shaft is not fully extended outside the pubic bone bcus in fact there's at least two inches of penis retracted inside. Surgeons cut into the bone and pull out the additional length, thereby turning a stubby into a Long John, or rather a longer Johnny, to make everyone happier (partner included no doubt). Little did I know that my client had returned to the call and kept his mouth shut, while I rambled on like an idiot about how fascinating this surgery is and how it could transform the life of a man. My client only finally announced his presence when he howled with laughter and then advised me that our dialogue was the most interesting conversation he'd ever eves-dropped on in his life. Sneaky bastard! 😅I turned fourteen shades of crimson but thankfully, the depth of my embarrassment couldn't be transmitted over the phone, as there was no video connection.
Currently, I don't have a steady SO in my life and I fear that I'm coming across as shallow in speaking about the opposite sex in this fashion, reducing them to a body part. But this post is about penises and their effect on life and, as much as men drive me bonkers with their consistently erratic, selfish and self-serving behaviour, I have to embrace truth: I sorely miss having a penis in my life... er, that is a sometimes man. Such are the drought periods that we each will invariably have to endure in our life. There will be times when you get more than you can handle, when you get just enough to handle, and when you hardly get any of the thing that you think you can handle. The pendulum swings back and forth, and back and forth. To make matters worse, we're not currently in the summer months, when as a pathetic consolation, I could suck on frozen popsicles to give me that false-sensation of performing high-wire tricks, all the while wondering to myself, do I still have it? Of course I do! Silly girl!
A woman of skill and imagination never loses her special touch in between the sheets. We just become a little out of practice, that's all, because desire is ever-present. Desire grows in intensity, enhanced when we face head on the absence of the very thing we desire most.... which is why I needed to write this blog post. 💃😘🌹
Wish me luck that my drought ends soon. And, if you're wondering why I didn't delve into the Trans male angle, as a corollary to this post, perhaps another time... or I could retort with a snarky reply, "Write your own penis-themed blog, 'cuz this one's mine."
