The Lesbian Cockslut
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Connoisseur Of Cocks free porn video
Connoisseur of Cocks
By Cal Y. Pygia
Some girls like men's asses and, I must admit, they're nice -
nice to look at, nice to spank, nice to massage, nice to kiss. There's
nothing wrong with a man's butt, but, for me, its his cock and balls.
There's nothing sexier.
What do I like about a man's genitals? Everything! (What's not to
like?) I admit that I prefer a circumcised prick. I love the way that,
without the foreskin, the glans is always exposed. I love the
bubblegum-pink, acorn-shaped tip. I love the silky smooth skin of the
shaft. I love the wrinkled, satiny flesh of the scrotum and the egg-
shape balls within. I love a flaccid cock. Soft and limp, it seems
vulnerable and needy. I love the power I have to make this spongy,
drooping, wilted stalk of manhood thicken and swell and rise to stand
upright against my man's pubes. I love to stroke and rub and tease and
pinch and knead and massage his genitals with my hand. I love to take
his erect penis deep into the warm-soft-wetness of my mouth. I love the
feel of that rigid column of flesh stretching my asshole as it fills my
rectum. I love the sight and feel of his thick, viscous, white semen
spewing over my tits and belly, warm from his groin and salty to the
taste. A cock has a life cycle of its own, rising from wilted impotence
to erect omnipotence. I love making it rise to its true potential.
I keep photographs of my lovers' cocks. I have a dozen of them,
each with 100 pages. There are black cocks, brown cocks, white cocks,
yellow cocks, erect cocks, flaccid cocks, semen-spewing cocks, sperm-
smeared cocks, cocks equipped with small balls and big, circumcised
cocks, and uncut cocks, thick cocks and thin cocks, short cocks and
long cocks. Each and every one is beautiful in its own way, and no two
are exactly alike (except for the Templeman twins'). To paraphrase Will
Rogers (who had a beautiful cock and balls), "I never met a cock I
didn't like."
The trouble is, even in the best photograph, a photograph of a
cock and balls is still just a photograph. The beauty is there, but not
the life and there must be life in a cock to enjoy it to the fullest
extent--or, at least, the semblance of life.
Motion pictures are better than still photographs at capturing a
semblance of life, but they, too, are ephemeral. They flicker for a few
minutes, and then they fizzle. An ejaculation on a video is presented
as a fireworks display in which semen, rather than fire, is on display.
As quickly as the fireworks begin, it seems that they end. As dazzling
as such displays tend to be, they are over far too quickly. Then,
what's a girl to do?
As a shemale, of course, I have a cock and pair of balls of my
own to go with my full, feminine breasts and my round, womanly
derriere, so I can enjoy the sight and special effects, as it were, of
male genitals on a regular basis. But, alas! The clich? really is true:
familiarity does breed contempt. One soon tires of contemplating one's
own cock and balls, no matter how splendid and beautiful they may be.
My solution, such as it is (it's not perfect) is to have started
a dildo collection. These cocks are not real, of course, any more than
a statue or a portrait in oils or a photograph is real. But they are
realistic; they are faithful representations of the actual objects--or,
at least, mine are. I buy only those that have been made from molds
fitted to the genitals of the men from whom they are cast. Among my
artificial penises are representations of some famous ones. Some are
cast in bronze, others in plastic, and still others in latex. The
flesh-colored latex, whether black, brown, white, or yellow--is my
favorite, because, taken into the mouth or inserted into the rectum,
they feel like the real thing, so much so that I can imagine them
spurting semen down my throat or up my ass whenever I service one of
them orally or butt-fuck myself with one of them.
Don't get me wrong. I love women's bodies, too--the tits, the
pubes, the cunts, the asses; they're all beautiful and sexy, too, in
their own ways. It's just that none of these charms, charming as they
are, can compete with the beauty and splendor of a cock and a pair of
balls. By themselves, women are incomplete, as are men. Both are
beautiful, but neither is perfect. Only when breasts and vaginas and
female buttocks are combined with cocks and balls do we attain true
excellence and wholeness. The merger of men--of masculinity--and of
women--of femininity--that occurs during sex is but a brief and
imperfect illustration of the permanent and perfect union of the sexes-
-and genders--that occurs in the transsexual. The shemale is the
epitome and the personification of ideal humanity made flesh. That's
why there has to be a little man in my woman and a little woman in my
man. I don't make love to men or women. I offer myself only to others
of my kind, the perfect ones, the shemales. After all, as I said, I
love womanly charms, but, above all, I am a connoisseur of cocks, and
no woman, no matter how lovely, can offer a prick and a pair of balls
to her lover. These special treats must be provided only by the third
sex, the shemale sex.
It is their cocks and balls, by the hundreds and thousands, that
fill my bulging photo albums, and it is their cocks and balls, by the
scores, that stand, as dildos, upon my mantelpiece and shelves. It is
their genitals, whether in the flesh, in latex, in plastic, or in
bronze, that fill my mouth and ass and delight my soul.
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