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ONE PERSON'S PASSION IS ANOTHER'S PERVERSION... THE EXTREMES OF INTIMATE EXPERIENCE ARE WITHOUT LIMITS
ONE PERSON'S FICTION IS ANOTHER PERSON'S EXPERIENCE SO BEWARE FOR ANYTHING GOES HERE - YES, ANYTHING
THAT WHICH SHOCKS YOU MOST IS BORN OF YOUR OWN FEAR - BUT CAN YOU FACE YOUR FEAR?
OR DO YOU JUST HIDE BEHIND POPULAR JUDGMENT LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE?

A Letter From a Penis


I am a penis, you see (well, you don't actually see because there is no picture of me here and even if I wanted to include one, I don't have a digital camera. Anyway, if you want a picture of a penis and don't know where to find pictures of nude genitals online, you should be ashamed to call yourselves perverts. If you want forgiveness, send pictures of your naked body parts to us and we will think about putting them online or, if you'd rather be shy, we'll consider writing an ode or fantasy inspired by your very body part. Think of it, you could be immortalized and perhaps even turned on right here before your eyes... but we've digressed).

Where were we?... ah yes, this letter. I am a penis. I am taken out and touched several times a day, sometimes I shoot a stream of yellow or amber waste water into a porcelean recepticle and sometimes to shoot a stream of milky white semen into a, well, whatever is handy. Yes, I am a hand held device. The hand that usually holds me is attached to the same body I am attached to and knows me intimately. It might be nice to have another hand, yours, perhaps, getting to know me, but I have never actually found a hand that was not attached to this body that is nearly as aware of my interests and pleasures as the hand I know best. I am a lucky penis, but I could be luckier.

Anyway, I am writing to you today with the help of those aforementioned hands to let you know that I have feelings. Oh, I hear you laughing, but I don't just mean sexual feelings. I mean I have feelings that get hurt by the way this world treats me. How would you like to go through life being a phallic symbol? How would you like to be called vile names and be locked away behind a zipper most of the time? How would you like to be greated with shrieks and looks of horror just because you want to come out into the light of day and get some fresh air? It can get awfully stuffy in underwear, ya know?

I know most of you secretly want to see me, touch me, even love me and let me love you, but you pretend I am some sort of evil monster unless we're hidden behind closed doors... is that fair?

I'd like to ask you to reconsider your public stand on me and try to enjoy me as much as when you sit on me privately. I want out of the closet, or zipper, and a more honest relationship with you. I want you to show me the sensitivity and adoration and love that you show me in private when we are in public. I am a penis, I want respect, dammit.





and come again . . . - . . . more to come

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