Penis, Level 10

01:53 in early August. Someone else's bed. I am exhausted and lying on my back. Sweat is dripping from my forehead to the back of my neck. I am utterly exhausted. The girl purring in my side is running her fingers over my chest, pulling slightly at my man-fur.

"You have a lovely cock..." she breathes, contentedly.

My eyes widen.

"Uh...errr...uhhh"

It is 21:13 on a blustery wednesday night in the final weeks of August. I am standing in front of a group of my friends in the pub. Suddenly the conversation shifts to a former encounter between me and a girl who is in the group.

"He has a lovely cock..!". She laughs. The group laughs. I try to laugh, but no sound comes out. I look at my group of friends and realize they're congratulating me. I try to speak but no words come out.

"Uhh.... well... heh... errr..."

It is 03:12 in the final week of August, I am being woken up from my slumber on a couch. I am drunk and sober at the same time. The extremely nilla girl who woke me up is looking at me intently, smiling, and I can tell exactly what's on her mind. I hear a slightly deeper and suprisingly commanding version of my voice tell her to draw the curtains as I unzip my jeans. With an exaggerated politeness I request her to, if she didn't mind, could possibly be so kind as, if it pleases her, to suck my cock. I quietly sip the glass of wine I see next to me and flip the channels on TV as her head bobs up and down in my lap, pretending disinterest. I feel utterly enthralled by her submission, and, come to think of it, sheer enthusiasm. She moans slightly. I push the ecstasy to the back of my mind for long enough to explain without falter in my voice that I am going to come, and that she is going to swallow it for me, and is that quite clear. She moans; "mm-hmm.." while her mouth is over the head of my cock. I utterly fucking love it.

I come inside her mouth and hold her chin up to face me, eyes dead straight.

"Swallow." I order her. She obliges me. "Good Girl". I kiss her lips. Post-coital clarity sets in. I begin to wonder what on Earth I was thinking. Then I wonder what on Earth she was thinking. Then I wonder how I got to the couch in the first place, what day it is, and what my name is. In that order. My alarm matches my surprise when I realize who it was that just went down on me.

The thinking proves to be too much. I wince. I get up from the sofa and make my excuses.

"Vice," she says, slowly. I pause, turning to face the formerly extremely nilla girl. She smiles to herself, wiping the side of her mouth and sipping from a glass of wine.

"You have a lovely cock".

".........."

It is 12.32 on a quiet and entirely dull sunday afternoon a month prior. My 16GB iPhone 3G vibrates in my pocket. It's my brother on the line.

"Dude, I don't know what you did to that poor girl, but she has been grinning from ear to ear the whole morning. Hahahaha. Did you have fun?"

I blush and grin sheepishly. "Heh, of course I did. Frankly I'm surprised she didn't wake you up. Did I mention she was calling me Sir in bed? How the hell do they know?!"

"I don't know, but apparently she said something about you having a great cock."

"err....guess it runs in the family?"

"Hahaha you bet it does. See you soon Bro"

"uh... heh... uh..."

It is 22.46 in the early days of October. I sit in my bed typing and look down at my penis. It looks back at me, expectantly. I hesitate and push it back into my boxers. I pause and stare at the computer screen, reading over my previous exploits.

The space at the back of my neck feels cold. I rub it, and look anxiously out of the window to rid myself of the feeling I'm being watched.

A simple gesture of Femininity

Going to a good friend's party, I had, as usual, I mistimed my departure and arrived unfashionably early to my hostess, who, delighted, greeted me, kissed me on either cheek and ran off again to get ready.

Having come straight from a day of rowing, sun, dehydration and post-award ceremony drinking, I was in my dirty training gear, and had only managed to purchase a six-pack of stella from the off-license down the road before arriving at her house. I probably smelled like the Thames, though thankfully my memory fails me. Knowing that the attendants were mostly students, I assumed that I wouldn't be too out of place and that excuses would easily be made, none would care.

I was wrong.

Not long after arriving, I was immediately contrasted against a couple. a boy and girl in their late twenties, who were dressed as though for a dinner party, brought with them a bottle of wine and even a bouquet of flowers. My feeling of awkwardness grew as they settled at the table with a bottle of red wine and I stood by the counter in my hoody, a lukewarm stella in one hand.

I began to make hasty excuses about coming straight from rowing, and my completely unplanned state of drunkenness, and my general lack of anything resembling class and sophistication, but I was distracted and noticed out of the corner of my eye my friend, the hostess, rummaging for a vase and clucking away with the female of the pair.

Deftly, she moved (no, perhaps hovered, or floated?) around the kitchen and placed a small glass vase next to the sink.

Next, she unfurled the bouquet and started picking up each flower in turn, holding it upside down against the vase and cutting each stem to suit; with movements as fluid and natural as an old tailor. Each flower was planted in the vase, arranged by colour and height, and then given a brisk tussle to bring out the petals before her hands deftly moved to the next. Purple flowers which had looked cheap and tacky in their cellophane wrapping suddenly looked exotic and regal; as the entire foliage finished and presented itself.

I grew quiet then, this simple gesture betraying a simple elegance and beauty I never knew her to possess. Standing there, arranging the flowers, an aura of femininity grew around her; something which I rarely see in women and behold in quiet awe when I do. Though she is not someone I'm attracted to per say, she looked positively beautiful at that moment, with the purple flowers contrasting with her freshly dyed crimson hair.

She was completely oblivious, and if anyone else noticed what I had just seen they didn't show it. I would have loved to tell her so, but I kept quiet and sipped my tin of stella, as a ragg'd and miserable pauper, in my ditch of classlessness and putrid social ineptitude.