The Beauty of Cock

I have always been fascinated by the genitals. I love the word GENITALS. What they are, how they look, and what they DO. Plus the possibilities yet to explore.

WHY?.

Ever since I have known pleasure, and pain, I have been enthralled by the energy, and power of my own genitals. That my genitals have the ability to create life, and multiply clones of the one I have just fucked, leaves me breathless. My genitals underpin every religion, and everyone I meet, and have intimate relations with. The genitals of the body have often surprised me along the way. Like take this brief snippet of a story when I was eighteen.

I was barely eighteen. It was evening, about eight o'clock. Winter time, because it got dark early. I had just finished my cleaning job in the city, and when I walked out onto the lamp-lit street abustle with people, the cold hit me, and I needed to take an urgent piss. Luckily there was an underground toilet outside of the tall building I clean, and so bounded down the stairs, pulled out my piss-filled cock, and began to jet noisily into the urinal.

It was one of those stainless steel urinals from the early seventies, smelling of stale piss, dimly lit, mostly tiled. Suddenly beside me appeared a young man in his early twenties, sporting a hard on in his hands. He gingerly proffered it to me. I was shocked. No one had ever offered their cock to me before. It was the most beautiful hard on I had ever seen.

It was plumly circumsized, fairly bursting out of its restraining skin. It was abuzz with youthful, sexual electricity. The purple head flared up at me. The slit winked at me. He was holding his erection at the root of its shaft. There was only me, and him, standing at the urinal. I looked again, as I held my cock pissing into the urinal. All I could think was, what a beautiful cock. Yes a cock can be beautiful. At least to me it was fucking beautiful.

He must have been desperate to show it to me. He wanted me to touch it, even suck it. I couldn't see his balls, as they were still hidden inside his jean front. My cock was used to fucking cunt, not playing with men. I could hear myself saying to him, what a beautiful cock he had. A smile ripped across his face. Relief. Hope.

I finished pissing, and shook off the last drips from the end of my cock, which was now growing in my hand. I tried to hastily stuff it back into my trousers, so he couldn't see it. But he did. His brown eyes were latched onto my erecting cock.

"Well, come on then. Let me touch it" he implored me.

By now my erection had bloomed to full size, as he reached with one hand to grab it. Why was I getting aroused by seeing his erection, and what if somebody walked in on us?. His cock was sculpturally circumcized, and mine had a foreskin. Both our cocks were about the same size, this image suddenly flashed through my mind. But where was mind?.

Is this an intimate moment, I thought?. Every moment is intimate if it is related to the body. I reach out and grab his cock. I surprise myself. I like cock, and don't have to be a homo to like cock. Immediately I had hold of his cock, it felt deliciously animal, and hot in my hand. I wouldn't say warm, it was fuckin' hot. I could feel the blood pulsing. It felt so alive.

"Taste it" he said.

"Put it in your mouth."

My mouth?. My mouth over that sculptured head. I could see a clear drop of cum oozing out the tip, as my mouth closed over the purple head. Oh God!. I was doing this. The sweet nutty smell of cock enters me. That smooth, soft, yet firm head in my mouth. My lips pass the protruding glans Male lust is something palpable. He grabs the back of my head, and shoves his cock right in. I gag. Wasn't expecting that. I push him back, and immediately beat a hasty retreat.

Last images were of him standing there, his cock sticking out, with a look of shock on his face, as I bounded up the stairs, stuffing my cock back in my trousers. The cold night air hits me. What the fuck!. My mouth can still taste his cock. His urine-salty cock. His hard-on in my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. There were also undertones, the musty odor of his underwear which kept his genitals warm, and held.