The perfect cock

Twelve days without sex, and I have been thinking of cocks all day. Not the smartest way to spend my time, considering I had some other, very serious stuff I should be doing. But I guess this is as serious as today is going to get: A personal, close-to-scientific look at the perfect cock.

It’s long. It doesn’t have to be VERY long, but it has to be long enough to give me the feeling it fills me. More important, it’s thick enough to give me that feeling. Thickness is way more important than length. Reaches those most important spots, gives that most important friction. Even better if it’s got a slight upwards bend. And then, of course, it must be hard, or easy to make hard. Balls, I don’t think as much about. But I know how I want them, too. Big balls, shaved, made to be licked. Size isn’t everything, though. Technique counts even more. But the perfect cock has it all: The right length, the right thickness, the right angle, and the right moves.

In my life, I have met some perfect cocks. Finding the perfect cock-owner has been more of a challenge. But that, I do not want to get into, or I’ll start thinking of the closest I ever got, and him, I fear, is unique. I miss him terribly. Cocks, I can comfort myself, there will always be more of.

Some people presume that the perfect cock has to be black. At least, they presume that to me, it has to be black. I can understand where that comes from, most of my American lovers have been black. But to me, it's more about the man than his hue. Truth is, I’ve had it a fair share of both the black and white varieties. Cocks off every continent, actually, providing I can count New Zealand as Australia. I guess I can. Most, though, have been members of two specific categories: European Vikings or Black Americans. Ivory and Ebony Gods. They've got certain other characteristics in common, too. In general, they've been muscular men, smart men, funny men, and men who’re able to relax around an independent woman, all of which is more important to me than where a man's gene pool originates. My own background is diverse enough for me to feel comfortable in all environs. And though I am not generally a fan of generalizations, I think the grand total is grand enough for me to draw certain conclusions. Most of the black ones have been perfect or close to it. Within the white range, variation has been larger, but the Vikings I have had, have in general been a great deal bigger than those whose origins hail from further south in Europe. Vikings, I joke, may be as ivory as they come, but they are still the Ebony Gods of the North.

Biggest cock I ever had? A Viking, size of an adult underarm, fist included. But then again, the smallest ever? A Viking, too, size of a middle finger. In both cases, I’m talking about both thickness and length. In both cases, size demanded a certain creativity. And in both cases, that creativity gave results. One of them – won’t tell you which, you can imagine for yourself – was so grateful he cried. He hadn’t experienced coming with a woman before. And so, I learned that there can be both too much and too little of a good thing.

That perfect cock, though, is the one thing I can never get enough of. Twelve days without I am beginning to suspect I can do with a not-so-perfect-one too.