Gentleman's Area

After a lovely weekend with Fella he has now gone home; I am therefore on my own and to make matters worse I shan’t now see him until Friday. I’m used to seeing him in the week, and this will only be the second week that I shall be entirely without him. How sad :-(

So, I thought to myself, as I’m at a loose end why not write about penises? Well, I sometimes have strange thoughts… but since this bog was started I haven’t discussed greatly cock; banana hammocks; one eyed trouser snakes; the wedding vegetables.

Fear not, gentle reader, this wurstfest is not some self aggrandising soliloquy, eulogising my God give talents. No, I never claimed to be anything special in that department.

We don’t like to talk about penises openly; by which I mean debate rather than discuss loudly on our morning commute. You can't avoid it when cruising - that's what you're after, after all. Still, I have been genuinely taken aback when someone has initiated a conversation with an enquiry about my size; or sent me a range of intimate photo’s of themselves entirely unprompted. Good people, you are mistaken; for I am the puritan whore!

Nevertheless, we all worry about our endowment to a certain extent as we are growing up. In the end, of course, 99.99% of us are absolutely fine and when push comes to shove, as it were, we realise there was little to worry about after all. Nevertheless, you go on gaydar and it’s ‘cock-size’ section seems remarkably well populated with large, nay, extra large gentlemen seeking to make each others’ acquaintance. My personal experience is often the ‘larges’ are prone to exaggerate whilst the ‘averages’ are paragons of modesty (if, ideally, not virtue).

Of course we rarely truly believe adages such as ‘it’s what you do with it that counts’. In reality it is what you do with it that counts, very much so. It’s just that if you are a luckier man than most… well, *ahem* you may not have to do quite as much.

Still, I have been with my fair share of men. the nights of 1994 spent largely in the carpark behind the bus-station in Salisbury; my now-married college housemate whenever he fancied a round of what he termed “the duvet game”; a sizeable proportion of gay men between the ages of 20 and 50 with a postcode beginning SE… and I would say that there is a “goldicocks” size out there: not to big, not too small, but juuuust riiiight. One of my exes was prodigious not only in his enthusiasm to the extent there was a period when I genuinely could not sit down. And whilst sometimes that’s fine, sometimes there’s something alarming as well as genuinely aesthetically displeasing at some enormous great thing looming out of the dark at you.

Still, it’s funny how important this kind of things seems to be. I do think how good someone is in bed is an important part of what future I may have with him; but at the end of the day I think referring you to rule 7 is the best way to end this post.