Things I learned from having a hard cock

By sash.

1. Having proudly sported my own strap-on, I can imagine how having a cock is fascinating very much in a Secondary School science project kind of way. As a piece of matter, it constantly changes state (soft to hard), fulfils various functions (sexual pleasure, waste removal) and it responds to stimulus (touching, sucking, thrusting, extreme temperatures etc.) Thus, it is worthy of constant scrutiny and experimentation; no wonder men are perpetually touching themselves.

Mentally, having a cock presents very different possibilities from having a pussy. For one, a cock allows you to feel more in control of your own arousal…and also, more responsible for giving your partner pleasure. As these are just my impressions from having a prosthetic, I don't claim to be an autority on the subject. But I can well imagine if I had a fully functioning penis with a moveable foreskin and actual ejaculate to spray on something (wet tissue/ freshly laundered sheets / pair of tits) I would never leave the house. (Insert "Full-Time Wanker" joke here.)

2. Fucking someone with a cock is a tiring business. I understand now why men just want to turn over and fall asleep after doing it. I am not lazy in bed by any stretch and have perfected my own brand of pelvic thrusts, bunny bounces and Kegel contractions, but Post-Garth buggering, I have discovered whole sets of new (aching) muscles along my inner thighs and hamstrings. Hopefully it works on my cellulite.

3. I am now much more forgiving about men who can't multi-task in bed (“what is so difficult about holding my legs up, spanking me, sucking on my breasts and touching my clitoris all at the same time?”). My experience with Garth has shown that I too am lacking skills in this area. I can't seem to muster up the physical agility - not to mention, mental focus - to keep a 'cock' moving, give my partner a handjob and reach my own orgasm at the same time. (Whilst keeping my balance and making sure my tummy doesn’t hang out.)

Never has sex seemed like an endless session of Pilates or some other torturous gym-concoction to build “strength in the core”. It would be so much simpler if I could just knit my brows together, look at a single point on the wall, thrust furiously before collapsing in a sweaty heap and muttering a token “Was it as good for you?”.

4. Miracles can be achieved with the right product. In Garth's case, we used Astroglide, which is quite difficult and inconvenient to procure in Singapore. Evidently all the women here either 1. have walking faucets between their legs 2. aren't having sex or 3. use that manky K-Y stuff doctors use for Pap smears for lubrication.