Specifics.

Seems I have this post in me, despite the late hour.

Let's focus, class, on that bit of manly anatomy between the waist and the thigh. The ass-u-lar region. The bits. Let's be specific.

For one, size matters. To me. When my boy was born, he arrived in a blaze of glory and I needed many many many stitches. Luckily, the doctor was trained Old School. He got me fixed right up. He happened to also do my husband a favor, he thought. Made things a little tighter than when I checked in to the hospital. Not inappropriately, it's called The Husband's Stitch. I found it Not Helpful.

So I'm picky. I like a nice-sized cock. Not too big, not too small. I like it to slide in, nice and polite. Oh but it's not just that. I like a cock I can deep throat to the point of nudging my nose against his stomach. I don't mind, later on, struggling with the gag. He's most likely, after all, fucking my mouth.

Balls? High and tight.

Cut or uncut: Who cares. College boyfriend was the latter. No big difference from cut, but sometimes I thought it added a pleasant slippery back-and-forth. I like the look of the former, and the feel of the head, that edge, that little extra speed bump when he thrusts inside me. Ok, so cut.

Hair: A bald pale chest will turn me off faster than a light. I like the fur, the down, the reminder that we're different. Hair makes him more animal. It's, I don't know, kind of adorable for him to have a fuzzy bum.

If knew such a man? Well, I might be unnaturally subject to his whim. Too bad for us.