I have a propensity to fuck the well endowed. Call it a wealth of intuition or just Dumb Luck, but really in the rare event that I encounter a babydick I don’t actually care much. We all know it’s not the size of the penis but the way it functions, right? And especially if you’re someone like me who derives more pleasure from the psychosexual dynamic of fucking rather than a physical orgasm, the depth of penetration becomes virtually irrelevant.
Unfortunately. Men don’t see it this way. Men with big ass dicks well. They most certainly don’t understand how unimpressive it is when you’re used to pitching in that ballpark and they MOST CERTAINLY don’t understand its lack of importance. That something like 75% of women can’t even reach orgasm through penetration alone. What do we need those monster cocks for if they can’t even get us off?? So we can brag to our friends that our man has a huge dick? That’s more empowering of his apparent masculinity rather than his ability to please a woman. Though in the case of undressing one of the well hung verbally affirming his masculinity may just be all this size is good for. And this is where I veer from the crowd. Unbuckle the belt, slide down that zipper, let the pants drop and as I’m pulling off the briefs I take but a glance at that big thing staring back at me just begging for some attention and either silently without even the slightest touch lay back on the bed for my turn or do the right thing and put it in my mouth. In either scenario this poor penis has gotten no recognition for the impression it was undoubtedly hoping to make. In that moment and for the remainder of our session, perhaps the remainder of our relationship – I’m fucking a man with an Invisible Dick.
I’ve been ignoring dicks while getting fucked every which way since I was 15 years old. I’ve been giving world-class blowjobs even before then while still refusing to acknowledge the thing that I was catering to so sweetly. I learned early on that performing oral sex was a completely different game than handling a penis directly. It’s a very empowering act, fellatio. I hold all of a man’s sex in my mouth. With my motion, technique, my pauses and go's, pressure and release, I control his every sensation. Not to mention I could always just bite down on that thing if I so choose. It’s a very vulnerable position for him to be in and aware of it or not he is giving all of himself to me. This became the only way I knew how to befriend a man’s manhood. Hanging out alongside one while stroking and caressing as if I need it or want it for myself well – he’s the one who wants to put it in me. I’m not going to ask him to. And if that motherfucker thinks I’m going to work on it with my hands in a way that somehow supersedes his own ability to bring himself to orgasm he is A delusional and B a liar. Because they all know that we are idiots fumbling around down there on our own. It’s a total power move. Let’s get this lady to try to work the dick and teach her like a little geisha in training. I remember sitting in the back of John DeLacey’s car with Marshall Drake in high school, drunk as fuck, while he unzipped his pants, grabbed my hand to shove it in his mess and pretended, because he thought according to my lies of ignorance, not blatant run-arounds, that we could play a Teacher Student thing and he was finally liquored up enough to have the right amount of confidence to challenge my total authority over him. I went along with the poor guy. Gave it a feel, one or two tugs then immediately snatched my hand back and whispered “Marsh! Not in here! Not with Aubrey and John so close!” We’ll call it a draw.
But the aversion I have to even acknowledging that men have dicks runs deep. And it strips them of all of their power. It’s no wonder that Marsh needed me to hold onto his and couldn’t even muster up the courage until we were so drunk and I was trapped inside a moving vehicle with really no way out other than faking prudery. I treated that guy like shit. I only dated him so that I could go to Senior Prom and my girl Aubrey was with his BFF so it made logical sense to get in on that. I cheated on him with that hot motherfucker with the Southern Comfort at Johnny Knowles’s house because I saw Johnny hitting on Kelly and that bitch should have known better than to make out with the love of my life. So many people saw me blow SoCo Bro at that party. Oops? Marshall was not treated well. That night or any other when I would leave the main room at a karaoke bar while he's singing Boyz II Men for me to go hit on middle-aged men hoping they’d buy a buxom 15-year-old tequila shots. I kept my eyes above the waists there too. But I got pretty hammered.
Since the age of fifteen I’ve been with plenty of powerfuckers with big dicks that I’ve remained conveniently hands off mouth open and felt every bit of control it afforded me. The need to prove their worth because the penis was never rewarded rang loud and clear and I continued to have wonderful aggressive dominating sex for 15 years. The man that I developed the closest and longest lasting sexual relationship with was my good old hugely endowed friend Charles.
Charles has a large penis. Let’s just call it giant. As I’ve made clear I normally only come across the big ones but the sheer size of his is impressive. I found myself in quite the predicament when I had to pause and wonder how this whole blowjob thing is going to work out. He’s expecting praise of course, but I’m not particularly excited about this discovery. I’m working out the math in my head. The last thing I’m thinking about is telling him how wonderful it is that he was born with something that just might injure me. His Dick. His Problem. Of course that’s never how they see it. Ladies we all know – we have to praise the dick. Even… even even even… the little bitty ones. Because this is our job right? To boost the ego so that he can perform at full throttle and our needs will be met. It’s the step we have to take even before touching it. It's arguably way more important than even putting our hands on it at all. We verbally support his need to feel like a man in order for us to be treated like proper women.
Well. Let’s talk about that. How about the man who has had praise, power, and ego flattery his entire adult life suddenly hitting a wall of silence? Will he turn and walk away thinking “I deserve better” or will he need to stick around and prove that he deserves what he’s always had. It’s a risky game to play as a female, withholding, but if you’re in my camp and you have yet to meet a true Master who is just there to please and be pleased and big dick or small doesn't feel entitled to your body or your praise, the results can be astoundingly consistent.
I recall a little story Charles told me once during pillow talk after about the third of fourth session early in our relationship. It went something like this:
“Once in college I hooked up with a volleyball player. She was pretty cute. The next week this other chick on her team came up to me and said ‘Charles, Molly told all of us you have the biggest dick she’s ever seen! Is it true?!’ I thought that was kind of weird. But funny, right?”
I looked at him, shrugged my shoulders and said “Well that must have been nice for you.” Then turned back on my side and went to sleep.
Our sex got better and better every time for the following 8 years. I never touched that big old thing.
Don’t get me wrong – deep penetration clearly feels a hell of a lot better than a man only having the ability to inch his way in there. In this regard my reaction is both physical and vocal in terms of just plain sex noises. This is certainly reaffirming and he can get all the esteem he needs from that. Goddam am I noisy. But the sheer fact of never openly acknowledging why it feels so good or giving any praise whatsoever chips away at the nerves pushing this man to try even harder. It gets pretty good. If you like being dominated, treated with a little aggression, fucking a man who acts like he’s got a lot to prove, keep pretending he is Dickless. You’re all set to go.
I met someone 6 months ago who may or may not have felt my inner gasp when seeing him undressed for the first time. This was the ultimate MegaCock. I was frightened. Turned out he felt wonderful and I had nothing to worry about by My God. Again I kept this information to myself, asking only to be treated roughly and praising him for the style of his love-making not what he was made of. We had a tumultuous relationship. After breakoff #1 (there were many) he sent me a meme. A MEME. The content clearly points to the fact that he has a big huge dick, that I worship it and I ain’t getting none. I got some. A week or two later. Because I still ignored it. I may have told him he had a dick complex. Not simply was his giant penis Invisible, it was now problematic. He never got over it, sometimes in bed still seeking affirmation that he in fact DOES NOT have a complex. The best I could do was placate. It was late. I was either passing out or getting out. The last thing I want to do is talk about Dicks. Especially with a man who starts the conversation with a fucking Meme.
It’s amazing the power women can have when it comes to our choices in how we treat a man’s sexual asset. We can either treat it as an asset or simply use it as a way to ask for better sex. It all depends on how you like it. Though my preferences have started to shift towards the mutual appreciation of each other’s bodies as I’m readying myself to meet men who don’t need provocation to fuck me to my preference I’ve still been able to use the penis as a way to steer the sexual experiences that I currently have access to. I slept with Charles a few months ago after a two-year break. He had totally changed. Every act was preceded with “Is this ok?” “Are you doing ok?” or “What do you want?” Charles. You know it’s ok, we’ve done this a million times. And you know exactly what I want. We’ve fucked a million times. Stop being such a pussy, slap me and throw me face down on the bed you asshole. Put your hand around my neck, or smother my face, shut me up, no one's talking here. The next morning when he wanted to have sex again I told him his dick was too big for me and I couldn’t fuck him twice in one day. I've consulted with Molly. The rumors have now reached far beyond the whispers of the Conn College Volleyball team. It's confirmed, Charles, you got a HUGE DICK. It’s like I’m seeing it for the first time, clear as day. Now go swing it around some other chick, because suddenly Visible it’s not nearly as impressive as I had imagined all these years.
That’s the thing about Invisible Dicks – you can make them and their wielders into whatever your fantasies allow. And as with anything in life – like Charles suddenly forgetting how to fuck a Sub - once shit gets real it’s time to either accept it or move on. We have more opportunity for this than is possibly fathomable. We’re bombarded with dicks from the very moment we walk out the front door. How we choose to see or not see them depends on what we want our relationships to look like. I may suddenly be at that tender age of accepting adulthood and mutual genital respect. Finally as much fun, power and wonderful sex I’ve had over the past 16 years ignoring that men even need dicks to function, I’m now just waiting for one confident enough to look in the eye and say “Hey man, fancy seeing you here.”
This doesn't mean I'm suddenly doling out Handy J's or congratulating men for a genetic trait they had no control over. A big dick doesn't need to be rewarded and doesn't make men men, doesn't give them any power, doesn't mean shit. Dicks hold no power. None. No matter how many buildings, cars, monuments, weird abrasive artwork and advertising men try to create in homage to the penis it's meaningless in the face of a naked woman. We complain about the focus on our bodies all the time, constantly, disdainfully. But it's important to know how powerless this makes the physical man. What woman really thinks a Dickpic is hot? Or really cares about seeing a cockshot when she's watching porn? Or a film. Or a mild mannered series on HBO? The fact that we don't want to be defined by our bodies means that men already aren't. So why should we allow them to hold their dicks over us as the one and only exception to the rule?
I know that a man with enough confidence and self-assuredness to not need penis praise exists. I know that I will not always have to ignore an essential part of the male body (and pretty important part of my sex life) in order to get what I want. But until that time I am sticking to the formula. It hasn't failed me thus far - don't let a man get away with claiming territory simply for being well-hung. With an Invisible Dick he actually has to pull his own weight. To all the feminists out there - does that mean that we'll have reached Gender Equality when men lose their dicks? Maybe it just means that we should stop taking so many pictures of the Washington Monument or even those really tall tapered skyscrapers towering over our city skylines, misleading us with those domineering exteriors only to be filled with nothing but basic rich peoples' condos and high rent ordinary offices. Maybe we can just ignore these MegaStructures as desperate attempts at asserting power, and openly acknowledge their phallic lack of substance. But. Who am I to say. I'm no expert. I've never even seen a real Dick.