Through one of my forays into the world of dating, I happened upon the most beautiful penis in the world. Never mind the man to whom it’s attached. Suffice it to say that this penis’ man is a 6’5″ Mexican opera tenor sensation who sings the world over, a woodworker, a fabulous storyteller, an inventor and a New Yorker. I dated this man and his penis briefly. While the relationship was fraught with emotional peril and short lived, I would have loved to continue to see his penis on a regular basis. Sigh. I even gave it a name, “Señor.” If a dildo manufacturer could duplicate Señor, they’d be sitting on a gold mine. And so would I, on a regular basis. When not in use, I’d enclose this dildo in a glass case, with a gilded mahogany base and special lighting designed to emphasize all its sublime attributes.
The first time I saw Señor, I was awestruck. I just stared. I couldn’t help it. Slack-jawed awestruck. It wasn’t just that it was the largest penis I had ever seen. (Size really does not matter, but Señor’s bounty could not be overlooked.) Señor was simply … beautiful. He should have been frescoed on the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo. Señor should have been draped in royal robes, given wings, been cradled by Mary, and been one of the disciples in “The Last Supper.” And, if penises could sing, Señor would be the “fifth tenor,” right at home singing at the Met.
Things never play out quite like I picture they will. Never mind that I first met Señor in Las Vegas, in a dingy hotel room that overlooked the freeway because Señor’s person assumed he could get a room at the Bellagio and found out that, not only they were booked, but all the better hotels in the greater Las Vegas region were filled, due to a convention.
Never mind that, in preparation, I had shaved my pubic hair for the first time ever the day prior – just to be extra sexy — and, to my horror, had welts that looked like red polka dots all over my girlie-swirlie. Disregard the fact that it itched like crazy and that, being a healthy woman, within only hours of shaving my pubes, I already had nubs … spikes, in fact … cactus spines. My girlie-swirlie looked like a polka dotted, hairless Chihuahua with don’t-touch-me spikes. Delightful.
When I came out of the bathroom after unsuccessfully trying to calm down my welts with lotion and to shave my spikes in spite of my welts, Señor’s long-bodied owner was relaxed and naked on the bed. And, right along with him, was … the penis of my dreams. I tried not to stare, but couldn’t help myself. I had to refrain from bursting into song. I wanted to get my sketch pad and begin drawing a portrait of magnificent Señor! (Later, I sketched a portrait of Señor.) Without as much as a forethought, I exclaimed, “Your penis is stunning!”
“Come here,” the operasingingstorytellingwoodworkinginventing NYC hombre said.
“Venido aquí,” whispered Señor. The rich, red-brown color of the sandstone of the desert, Señor waited expectantly. By now, he was waking up. Magnificent. The soft, wooly black pubic hair reminded me of a flock of black sheep grazing at the base of a monument. Señor’s team of firm, round testicles was ready to spring into action to offer him full support. The scene was a luscious bowl of fragrant, ripe fruit. I wanted to devour him.
My fingers and, then later, my tongue slowly outlined Señor’s contours. Straight lines, curved. He was cool and smooth, warm and wet, hot and everywhere all at once. Ahhh. After singing his first hallelujah chorus, Señor was still stunning. Relaxed, he lay there like a butte. The flock of black sheep was still grazing. The color of Señor’s testes had deepened to burgundy. Señor and I tangoed all night. Lucky for me that he liked Chihuahuas, even polka-dotted, spiky ones. Sí, Señor!
Different strokes for different folks, to be sure. But, solely from an artistic standpoint, Señor is the most beautiful penis I’ve ever had God’s good grace to lay eyes on.
This is a guest post by Jennifer Gordon