I feel it in my hand. This flesh, my flesh, protruding from my body.
It feels strange, as though it’s not part of me but it is, and I play with it because I like the feeling of my cock in my hands.
I sometimes play with my cock and balls but mostly I stick with the shaft.
The size changes based upon my mood and it looks different depending upon how I feel in that moment.
I want someone that wants to play with my cock. I want someone that wants to hold me at night.
I play with my cock when I’m horny and when I’m lonely and when I’m bored. Sometimes I think how great it is to have a cock of my own to play with whenever I like.
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Categories: Fiction poetry short story writing
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