Ah lollipops. There are so many colours and shapes and sizes … and meanings 😉
I LOVED blow-pops all through middle and high school – what could be better than a delicious candy shell that revealed bubble gum?!? Whenever I went to a carnival or theme park as a kid, I always wanted one of those unicorn horn ones – the long, rainbow spiral that lasted FOREVER. Tootsie pops were always my favourite Halloween candy haul, even though the chocolate is shit and I rarely, if ever, make it to the center without biting. In a triumph of advertising, I adore them as much for the ‘secret Indians’ and good ole Mr. Owl as for the luscious blue candy shell (cuz, let’s be clear, the blues ones are the best ones).
And then there are the other sorts of lollipops – the cream-filled ones made of spongy flesh. I read a lot of romance and I never understood the ‘velvet over iron’ analogy (for all that I understand the appeal of the word IRON to the folks with factory-installed cocks) because, let’s be honest, that isn’t how it feels. Yes, there is a softness with an underlying hardness but a cock is to ‘velvet over iron’ as breasts are to the ‘bags of sand’ imaginings of the 40-yr old virgin.
When I started exploring the kinky world in ‘real’ life I came across the “cock-worship” fetish and it didn’t resonate, perhaps due to the word ‘worship,’ yet the practice is something that I enjoy immensely. I don’t get on my knees and bow before the majesty of the cock – to me that feels more than a little ridiculous in a ‘the patriarchy has approved this message’ sort of way (though I’m sure there are those that perform cock-worship in that manner and delight in the opportunity – their kink is not my kink, and that’s ok).
If I’m being completely honest, I find penises to be rather comical. The way they bob and weave like drunk lil boxers trying to figure out where to land the next punch. Watching them change, if I’m lucky enough to be in the presence of a grow-er not a show-er, fills me with the juvenile glee of an absurd magic trick. It’s fun to wink at them while they’re coyly snuggled into pubes, the testicles standing guard behind them like the big, burly security detail of some tiny mob boss (do you think he’s compensating for something? snicker).
My worship takes many forms. Even the silly images above are woven through with fondness and reverence. Part of my worship is the general awe I feel toward the human body as a whole. With all the things constantly happening inside us, from the micro to the macro, it boggles my mind sometimes that we manage to exist and function.
Plus I really like looking at cocks. The naked male form has long been appreciated but for me it’s less about the body and more about the cock itself. Cocks don’t have to be hard for me to derive pleasure from ogling them – they just have to be. Big ones, small ones, thick ones, thin ones, shaved, unshaved … they all have something to offer the more-than-casual viewer. As an appreciater of the slightly hirsute, I do prefer the cocks I get up close and personal with to be resting on a bed of short and curlies (or, apparently, attached to billy goat beards… ahem). I have yet to play with strap-ons, though my vibrator (Zeke) and I get along VERY well, so I’m not sure what my preferences in that arena will turn out to be – but I’m over the moon that I’ll have the opportunity to discover new things 😉
All that said, if the owner of the cock (factory-installed or otherwise) isn’t someone I connect with, the penis is more of a clinical object whose existence is noted but not especially appreciated.
But back to worship. Ahhhhh cocks. Sometimes I like to comb my fingers through the pubes, grooming them and picking off the bits of lint and detritus. Smoothing the hair, gently tugging the hair, twisting it around my fingers to make fun spirally points. Once the hair is in whatever form I desire in the moment, I like to give the cock itself a spit-shine. There is something so powerful about holding a cock in my hands, squeezing just enough, running from the base to the tip, gently forcing the head back through my fist to burst out of the circle between index finger and thumb. Seeing my partner writhe, holding my partner’s gaze as eyes go half-lidded and roll back, robbing my partner of the power of speech (however temporarily). I like sucking cock, don’t get me wrong, but I THRILL to give hand-jobs because it means I can WATCH everything. Besides, I can always incorporate my mouth into a hand-job, sipping those droplets of pre-cum, encouraging the flow with my stud pressed against the vein as I slide my tongue along the shaft, swirling my tongue around the head, hooking my teeth under the rim and sucking. People are often wary of teeth, and have a knee-jerk negative reaction when the teeth come out (vagina dentata anyone?), but in my experience teeth applied appropriately tend to become an addicting part of the sensation for the owners of factory-installed cocks.
Blow-jobs are just ok in comparison. I think a big part of my mediocre-level enthusiasm is that I have a tongue piercing and nearly everyone with a factory-installed cock seems to ask for a blow-job so they can find out what it feels like. I’m all for exploration, and I actually like to suck cock, but being objectified for a thing in my mouth is obnoxious. I’m proud of my tongue and it’s power. My stud is an integral part of how I operate that particular muscle. I never ‘learned’ how to use the stud, it just comes naturally to me and my oral fixation. I get so tired of the cliched “I’d love to learn how that feels, I’ve always wanted to try oral with someone (anyone?) with a piercing.” It may not happen the first time we make out (though that’s the most typical) but it nearly always happens and it’s a HUGE turn off for me (partners take note). Your cock will have the chance to feel my stud IF (and that’s a big if) and when *I* so choose. Blow-jobs are part of my repertoire in intimate relationships. Don’t ruin my fun by asking in a way that makes the person attached to the stud seem irrelevant. Maybe I will suck your cock so you can feel the stud, and hey hooray for you, but I’m unlikely to enjoy it much if that’s how the experience begins (hint: if you’re not into my enjoyment of your cock, YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG) and I’m unlikely to initiate oral sex with you ever again (partners take note), assuming we even stay in some type of relationship after that.
I’m hoping to gain a better appreciation for blowies in Monday’s class (Licking the Lollipop: A Blow Job Class). Fingers-crossed that those with factory-installed cocks will learn more than just techniques from the class… maybe they’ll get a bit of sense as well.