J. C.
It is a week since Jefferson left me at his apartment. A week since we’ve seen each other.
I returned home, dazed and drunk with the experiences of the weekend.
As the days pass, the memories surface in bits. Most of these bits are sensory experiences—taste, touch, sight, sound or smell—which flood my brain and call up events.
Before I get back to the events of Saturday, I wanted to write about Jefferson’s Cock. Our readers have never really learned about Jefferson’s Cock; he talks about it very little except to describe what it can do, which is considerable and impressive. But I am talking about the Cock itself; it really is nice, and I think it deserves a bit of credit in the Playbill.
To begin, Jefferson rarely wears underwear. Therefore, Jefferson’s Cock is not unduly restrained by cotton or spandex. It is well-ventilated, and I feel better knowing that it is readily available—say, in the back of a cab, for instance—I am a fan of Commando Cock.
Next, Jefferson’s Cock is cut, with a very nice tip; there is a marked indentation for the urethral opening; perfect for swirling with my tongue and a lovely knob that feels so good sliding past my lips. It makes for such a nice sound while it’s being sucked. Get that Cock nice and wet and it really does sound like the chrome being sucked off a trailer hitch.
Speaking of sucking, Jefferson’s Cock is perfectly suited to my mouth. Its diameter is not small (which can cause jaw exhaustion from tightly pursed lips), nor overly thick (which can have the same effect—no one likes a dislocated jaw!). Jefferson’s Cock is so friendly. It could be—and often is—sucked for hours.
But probably the most remarkable thing I’ve noticed about Jefferson’s Cock is its color. Jefferson’s Cock has a beautiful complexion. It is smooth, and not overly vascular with a rosy tint that matches the color of my labia and is so well-suited to his skin tone. Jefferson is pale, with reddish-blond trimmed pubic hair. To see Jefferson’s Cock standing up in the middle of all that for me, well…
That’s a good memory.
I returned home, dazed and drunk with the experiences of the weekend.
As the days pass, the memories surface in bits. Most of these bits are sensory experiences—taste, touch, sight, sound or smell—which flood my brain and call up events.
Before I get back to the events of Saturday, I wanted to write about Jefferson’s Cock. Our readers have never really learned about Jefferson’s Cock; he talks about it very little except to describe what it can do, which is considerable and impressive. But I am talking about the Cock itself; it really is nice, and I think it deserves a bit of credit in the Playbill.
To begin, Jefferson rarely wears underwear. Therefore, Jefferson’s Cock is not unduly restrained by cotton or spandex. It is well-ventilated, and I feel better knowing that it is readily available—say, in the back of a cab, for instance—I am a fan of Commando Cock.
Next, Jefferson’s Cock is cut, with a very nice tip; there is a marked indentation for the urethral opening; perfect for swirling with my tongue and a lovely knob that feels so good sliding past my lips. It makes for such a nice sound while it’s being sucked. Get that Cock nice and wet and it really does sound like the chrome being sucked off a trailer hitch.
Speaking of sucking, Jefferson’s Cock is perfectly suited to my mouth. Its diameter is not small (which can cause jaw exhaustion from tightly pursed lips), nor overly thick (which can have the same effect—no one likes a dislocated jaw!). Jefferson’s Cock is so friendly. It could be—and often is—sucked for hours.
But probably the most remarkable thing I’ve noticed about Jefferson’s Cock is its color. Jefferson’s Cock has a beautiful complexion. It is smooth, and not overly vascular with a rosy tint that matches the color of my labia and is so well-suited to his skin tone. Jefferson is pale, with reddish-blond trimmed pubic hair. To see Jefferson’s Cock standing up in the middle of all that for me, well…
That’s a good memory.
2 Comments:
What, this schmatte?
Schmatte (Shma-ta) Means literally, dirty old rag.
I imagine if that is the word you were intending to use you were thinking of it as "What this old thing?"
...but the word is specific to dirty, torn up way past their prime cloth garments.
Example..."Oy vey, are you gonna go to your Cousin Harold's Bar Mitzvah wearing that Schmatte!?"
Misused Yiddish aside, agreed Madeline, his cock is a joy.
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