HEY, THAT'S YOUR DICK! THE BLACK TABLE BROADS TALK FIRST HOGS.
|By Theresa O'Rourke, Lindsay Robertson, Tracy Weiss, and Amy Blair||
I saw my first penis on public television. The penis was attached to a short aboriginal man. He stood small, and very brown. He butt cheeks caved in toward each other. His body was ridiculously cut with muscles and sinew. The ass and the muscles I was familiar with.
I was fascinated with his penis. It was extremely long, it hung down
his thighs, almost to the top of his knees. And it was very flat, as if
he had kept it in a fruit roll-up tin and then just unrolled it for the
He was standing in front of a fallen tree. On top of the fallen tree was a smooth log, like the kind sitting in a fake fireplace. He suddenly grabs his penis, one hand at the base near his body and one hand at the tip, and starts dragging the length of it back and forth across the smooth log. He yanks it back and forth very roughly as if he's dragging clothes across an old-fashioned washing board, and his skin is making this sand paperish scraping sound. He casts aside the top log. He squats behind the fallen tree, and the camera shifts to give a side view. He scoots the end of his fruit rollup penis under the tree. And then he lifted the tree with his penis. Boys were amazing!
However, my first non-aboriginal penis was stumpy, veiny, veered way off to the left, and was neither a strong fruit roll-up penis, nor could it move "just like another arm." I suppose, despite my disappointment, that I found other uses for it.
Inexplicably, I've always pledged heavily during the PBS pledge drives.
The male genitalia are the most hideous body part God bestowed unto the human race. Women may love the cock, but we sure as hell don't like to look at it.
Many of us gave hand jobs under the quilt on Mom's couch for months before we had the nerve to glance down. I know when I did -- I was horrified. Guys think women like to fuck with the lights off due to insecurity with their bodies: love handles, inverted nipples, bushy pubic hair. The truth? We think your junk is a joke.
I give guys who shave their shit a lot of credit. How do they concentrate while still having to gaze directly at their nuts? It's like staring into the sun. Don't their retinas burn?
Balls are ugly. Your family jewels are nature's train wreck
You may not even be aware of the *real* problem -- the ratio of testicle to the amount of skin. Sometimes giving head and playing with these sperm sacs is like giving Post-Playboy Carnie Wilson a full body massage. You're feeling around and find folds. If twenty-something balls are super mushy and gushy, what'll happen when these guys get old?
I know it's gravity and genetics and someday my tits will fall down too. But a woman's body is art or at least something engrossing on the Internet. Playboy is trashy, but still pleasant. Playgirl is a punishment.
Tracy Weiss purposely skipped over the whole *size matters* thing. It's tired. Let it go. (Happy 3rd birthday, Tracy!)
I was ten and my friend Erica and I were hanging on to this raft in the
middle of a lake in Florida. We were talking, kicking around, when we
floated near this guy who was tanning on a raft with sunglasses on, and
appeared to be asleep. As we drifted closer, I saw something sticking
out of his shorts. It was really wrinkly and looked like a worm that was
sunburned. I grabbed my friend's arm and pointed. We floated there and
stared at it and whispered until it was decided that the worm was his
penis, that it was definitely getting sunburned, and that we were going
to kick our raft back to the beach and inform all of the other kids about
what we saw. So, we did.
Not only is Lindsay Robertson, fantastically wonderful, she's also the doyenne of her own Website, Lindsayism.
There isn't one penis that sticks out (literally or figuratively) as the first I had the pleasure of laying eyes on. Rather, I recall an entire summer. It was 1983, and it seemed like I saw a dude's ding-a-ling about as often as I heard the Mister Softee jingle. (Read: on a daily basis.) There was Roger, who was sexy in a Matt Dillon-way. My playmates and I called him Nature Boy. Whenever he came home, he'd sprint through our sprinkler without a stitch on. His member was limp and couldn't have been larger than the size of a thumb. I remember being bummed about Nature Boy's package. When I bitched to my 17-year-old neighbor Lisa (who was a total slut), she took me to her bedroom. Her boyfriend was lounging on her mattress, wearing nothing but a smile and shorts. Lisa whispered in his ear, and he was all too proud to show off his goods. It resembled one of those thick, long sausage links my mom would buy at Key Food. I think I tried to touch it, and while Lisa was hospitable, she drew the line at little ol' me copping a feel. "You'll get your chance one day, not only to touch it but to feel it inside of you," she assured my nine-year-old ears. "Just remember to use DIAL soap. It spells LAID backwards," she said. I didn't get it, but it sounded good. You might think that such experiences left me morally bankrupt and sexually loose. You'd be very right.
Ah, Theresa O'Rourke. What can you say?
I can't really remember exactly the first time that I saw a real, live, in-your-face penis. However, despite the fact that I've been playing
with dicks for over ten years now, I still retain the same impression of them that I got that first time. Every single time I see one, without fail, I think of a hairless cat. You know, a sphinx.
Unzip your pants. Look down. It's a sphinx, no?
If you don't believe me, read these fun facts and try to figure out which ones are about penises and which ones are about hairless cats. I think you'll see that the similarities are uncanny.
Get more of of our ladies here:
WHO'S HUMPIN'? THE LADIES!
OUR CREW OF SASSY BROADS TALK ABOUT SAFE SEX.