“So how many cocks have you sucked?”

It was a difficult question to answer, not just because it involved maths, but also because my mouth was full of rubber dildo at the time.

Also it involves an unpleasant imprecision. I don’t exactly suck cock. There’s also blowing, licking, gagging, and occasionally nibbling. To reduce the fine art of fellatio to the word suck is rather insulting.

Eventually, when my mouth, although not my arms, wrists or legs were free, I was able to give a response.

“Er. I dunno. About ten.”

By this point in my life I have lost sight of the boundary of what might be considered to be slutty. Is ten the right side of the border or beyond? And which side is the right side anyway? Let’s not get too political though, this is about cock.

“You love it don’t you.”

Hmm. Well yes and no. The act, of kneeling and orally pleasing a man can be arousing. The anticipation of it. The sensation when you can feel that he is enjoying it, and the moment when he loses control completely. All fun.

But love it? I can’t say that. The penis isn’t a particularly edifying body part, which is why it is so baffling that so many men on dating or swinging sites seem keen to show you theirs. Very very rarely, you may come across a penis that appears to have been chiselled from granite or marble, lit as though by the light from a high cathedral window, standing proud like a Michaelangelo sculpture.

I’ve never met one of those in real life however. Size isn’t really an issue, though a small cock and an overhanging belly does cause some logistical issues for the kneeling fellatio artist. Cleanliness absolutely is an issue. And alerting me to the fact that you are about to ejaculate, well I do appreciate that particular politeness.

So, no, I don’t love it, but I do like it.

“Do you remember the first cock you ever sucked, slut?”

The ‘slut’ stings a little, but in a pleasant way, like the tingling in my butt when I’m slapped with his big fat paddle. But do I remember? Er no. I remember the person to whom the cock belonged, vaguely, but the cock itself. No, not at all.

I doubt I would recognise my own in a line-up. Maybe if I had given myself a blow job a few times, I would be more intimately acquainted with it, but then again, if I could do that, I wouldn’t be here, having a rubber dildo thrust into my mouth while someone cut off my dress with scissors, or indeed here, writing about it.

“You love it don’t you.”

Oh we’re back on this again. Sex talk is possibly the second least eloquent kind of talk behind football talk, and men are terrible at it. If you spend your life grunting, guffawing and yelling, you are ill-equipped to push anyone’s erotic conversational buttons, even someone like me, whose keys are very sensitive to touch.

“Bet you’d like to suck a nice big black cock, wouldn’t you?”

I can assure you that the skin tone of the cock does not make it any more or less arousing. I can only assume that you, being white, regard it as likely that I, being white also, find the prospect of a black penis to be in some way transgressive, dangerous or exciting. A skin fetish, in other words. How very nineteenth century.

If you want to find out what someone really thinks, what twisted, unpleasant little rules and beliefs persist in the deepest recesses of their brain, then the best way to do that is to get them horny. Then they’ll tell you everything.

“So how many cocks did you say you’ve sucked?”

Ten. A number that will not be moving in an upward direction on this particular day.

“What? What’s up? What did I say?”

It is’t racist to fantasise sexually about someone of a different skin colour purely because of that skin colour, is it? Why yes, yes it is. It may be slightly more pleasant than ruling out sexual liaisons with someone on the basis of their skin colour (and if you want to travel back in time to a world where people felt it acceptable to advertise No Blacks and No Asians try visiting a sex or dating site) but racism is most assuredly is. That is why I am taking off my wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs and that is why I will not be taking your shrinking penis between my lips.

“Bitch.”

I’m not sure if bitch is an upgrade from slut, or whether he thinks I will be grateful that he has bestowed a female insult on me. Either way, as he tucks his shirt into his trousers and stomps down the stairs, I am reminded yet again that the biggest problem with a cock is usually the cock to which it is attached.

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