My Cock Remembers

Funny, it is, how I can't remember what I had for supper two days ago, but my cock so easily remembers its first touch by a hand other than my own - how she drew down my zipper and reached eagerly inside my pants with gentle, hesitant fingers to satisfy her burning curiosity during that summer of her seventh into eighth grade year. A year older but no wiser than she, it was I - my cock and I which would be both her teachers and her most willing students. Mine would be the first cock to feel the burn of her gaze as she studied up close and personal the hard flesh which made us so different from each other. My stiff dick would be the first to feel the touch of her hand, and the first to reward her with its warm gooey spray when she learned how to put it through its paces with her fingers wrapped around it. My cum would be the first she would taste, and swallow, as she made me squirt into her mouth with her lips wrapped tightly around my excited shaft. And a few years later, hers would be the first pussy to feel my cock inside her, as she would become the first to draw me into her warm, moist sheath.

My cock remembers!

It remembers dates and times and places. It remembers words spoken, and words never uttered but heartily felt which probably should have been voiced. It remembers how sometimes I wished that she would hold my hand with the same seeming affection with which she held onto my prick on those so many Sunday afternoons when my parents went to visit relatives and we experimented in my bedroom together. Though she was my sister's best friend, I knew her far better - every little crease and fold of her flesh - especially the parts which not everybody got to see. My cock knew her even better than I did - and it remembers her far better still even now some thirty years later. Hardly a day goes by on which my dick doesn't think of her for at least a fleeting moment, and when it does it longs for just one more feel of her gaze, her touch, her mouth, the deep heaven between her soft thighs parted to welcome me.

Though I was the perpetual wall flower at school dances, and that kid so athletically inept that I was sure to be picked last for any sport we played in gym class, when she opened my pants, I was the captain of the football team. Well, at least my cock was - I was still the water boy. But, you should have seen those touchdowns and the extra points that went flying right down the middle of the uprights formed by her tonsils!

And now for that picture of me that's supposed to be worth a thousand words...

Happy Cock Blogging Wednesday!
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