Tag: sex talk

Artwork.  For me, artwork is looking down at Venice’s naked ass in front of me as I watch my cock go in and out of her body, either hole.  Artwork is hearing her moans, which is usually the only soundtrack to our sex sessions.  Shooting cum onto my canvas, her body, is also my idea of artwork.   Most men probably feel this way, but I have my own fetish ideas of artwork that may not be normal.  I like the way my balls hang and slap against Venice’s body when we fuck.  I like the way any man’s balls slap against a woman’s body.   In fact, I get more excited thinking about how my balls look and sound than anything else going on during sex sometimes.  I feel a growing penis, halfway erect, is artwork.  I feel a penis is artwork.  I love watching myself half growing in Venice’s hand or mouth.   As much as I love her body, I love watching parts of my own body react to her body.  This is probably a fetish and why I consider myself “open minded”.   I have never done anything with another guy, but I will openly admit that watching another man with his partner would turn me on. I love to watch how both bodies function. I love how a flaccid penis looks.  I love the anatomy of how nipples get erect and a penis grows.  I love to watch a woman’s asshole squeeze as she cums.  I love to watch how the hidden hard dick under a man’s balls, twitches, releasing each cumshot into his shaft and out of his body.  This is artwork for me.  I describe the above as being a body enthusiast.  I can appreciate the beauty of a hard penis, but that doesn’t mean I want to suck it.  The same as I can appreciate a great painting doesn’t mean I want to be a painter.  However, it gives me a great appreciation for what Venice does with her mouth and body.  I can watch her and understand she isn’t just sucking my dick or fucking me, she is making art.  Silly right?

A dick is beautiful and any real woman should want it just as much as the man it’s attached to.  When I was young and would grab my dick, it was almost like it had a life of its own.  I had to hide it from everyone, even myself.  If I was ever caught even touching it, it was wrong and inappropriate.  This thing that hangs openly between my legs, like a whole other limb on our body and we absolutely cannot acknowledge its existence.  So when we finally get a few moments alone, we pull it out and study it.  I would squeeze it and look at the head, and know one day it would be inside a girl’s body and she would love it as much as I loved the thought.  I’d stroke my dick and notice every vein, every curve, every ripple, and excitedly wait to see my semen shoot out from its beautiful head.  I didn’t just think this once, I thought this daily.  After a shower, I would get out and look in the mirror, loving how my dick and balls hang.  I always trimmed myself and kept my penis presentable.  In the bathroom, every time we pee, we grab our dicks proud, feeling if it’s fat from a previous erection or thinned out and shriveled.  If it’s thinned out, it’s a bit depressing, because we love our dicks and we definitely do not like the idea of it being small and malnourished.  Silly right?

We grow up.

Now, as a man, I am supposed to be okay with a woman loving me but not being totally attracted to my penis?   I am supposed to be okay with a woman who doesn’t suck on my dick like it’s the most gorgeous tool she has ever laid her eyes on?  This dick, that I have waited years to share with another person, is an extension of me.  This isn’t just a fucking piece of meat that grows when you take your clothes off, it’s my manhood.  It’s what makes me a man.  It’s artwork.

 I don’t think most women get it.

Fortunately, Venice gets it.  She gets how my mind works and how my penis reacts.   She won’t just tell me my penis is huge, she will describe each inch of it, the same as I would do in my head as a kid.  She will lick down and follow each vein until it disappears into my body, and find another one to trail back up with her tongue to my gland.  She will softly massage my cock for an hour straight, caressing around my legs and balls, studying how it grows and gets soft in her hands.   She loves my dick.   I do not say this as some naïve statement where she has the wool over my eyes and I do not know better, because she didn’t always love my dick.  I know the difference.  She needed time to understand me.  She needed time to get how her man thought.  She is a woman, crafty and adaptive, making sure she keeps what is hers, hers.  I’m hers.

Thankfully Venice also knows how to talk to me.  Maybe, if her husband wasn’t such an enthusiast she could get away with screaming out during sex that she loves my large cock, which, like with most couples, is how she learned to talk dirty from the beginning.   She now leaves that play out of the playbook.   She says things like, “Oh god, you are only halfway in and I can already feel you in the back of my pussy.” She doesn’t have to be vague and say I am big, she can describe what we are doing and still get her point across.  “I can feel your head rubbing against my back walls and your pee hole opening so our insides are touching.”  As she says something like this, I can also feel my pee hole being opened as she grinds her body in circles, my dickhead rubbing her back walls and smashing around inside her.  She doesn’t just talk dirty, she talks anatomy.  She describes my body and its functions to get me off.  She reaches for my balls and tells me how heavy they feel, and that she can feel my cum inside them.  She notices my balls bouncing off her ass or vagina and describes what she feels, even suggesting that she bets all that cum in my balls is splashing around inside them.   When she talks about my sperm, she says things like she will squeeze as hard as she can while I cum, so she can feel each squirt travel through my entire dick and into her body.  If I am in her ass, this isn’t just talk, as we can both feel my sperm slowly travel up my shaft through the tightness, into her body.  The ass seems to be much more sensitive to detail, as she can feel the ridges in my gland, my large veins under my penis, my balls twitches on her butt cheeks as I cum, and each shot of my sperm being left inside her.   A paragraph or a sentence can’t capture the moments, because the entire point was she doesn’t go off a script.  It’s hard to type random comments or behavior, as they constantly change.   Her shit talk is part of our sex, as she describes what she thinks is going on with our bodies, rather than just saying she wants to be fucked harder.  The dialogue changes with each session, which shows me she isn’t off in space somewhere moaning out words to get me off, rather, she is very much in tuned with our bodies and trying to capture with words, what is going on.  Her shit talk is cerebral.  She knows this makes me tick, as she can say something as simple as, “show me where you like to cum”, and I will dig deeper in her body, without her needing to say the cliché, “go deeper”.  She has her own language and we both get it.

Learn each other, learn to love his beautiful cock, and learn to speak your own language.  Your man’s dick is your dick forever, take pride in it.