Harry’s manhood is impeccably spotless— no acne, trimmed, scrotal sweat under control. His girth is modest and wouldn’t misalign my jaw, yet my jaw is still dropping to the floor. Why? Because I’ve never seen a member quite like this before. The other men I’ve been with have bare boners, but this one has skin on the outside, like a suede cape.
Harry notices my reaction and credits his caped crusader to being English. So, does that mean Brits are usually uncircumcised? It’s like his manhood is wearing a slouchy turtleneck that you can roll down the shaft. I wonder, does the foreskin keep the shaft warm in the London fog like a penis poncho? Regardless, I’m going to have sex no matter the circumstance— circumcised or otherwise.
I move his foreskin down so I can see the rest of his shaft. When I pull the skin down gingerly, Harry’s breath hitches, but he asks me to do it again. He seems to enjoy having his foreskin stimulated, as though pulling down the foreskin creates a nice sensation against the inner shaft. So I move it down like I’m adjusting an Hermes scarf, and already, he’s panting and popping a semi. Note to self, Sex Rule Number 29:
If he’s un-circumcised,
And you want his length to rise,
Simply glide his foreskin,
Against the flesh within.
I notice even the slightest touch sets him off. Wow, this might be the easiest hand job ever. Are un-circumcised guys always this sensitive? If so, I love uncut guys. They’re easily pleased. With the circumcised ones, I slave away giving 30-minute BJ’s only to get a stiff neck— not a stiff dick.
I pull his foreskin further down to the base. But Harry yells, “Ow!” I don’t get it, I thought he loves it when his penis pullover is pulled down? And when I look down at it, boy, am I in for a treat! His inner shaft is infested with white Creme Anglaise. Forget about Moby Dick, we got Cheesy Dick right here.
Oh, the stench! His foreskin reeks like week-old cheese. Gouda, Havarti, Provolone– Harry’s serving a cheese festival in his crotch. Don’t get me wrong. Gouda’s good, but not Gouda on the gonads. Cheese belongs on crackers, not on boners. Harry notices me looking at his cheese curds and he rushes to the shower. While I wait, I ponder Sex Rule Number 30:
Look under the hood
Of a Briton’s manhood.
Peel his foreskin, check for cheese.
Wash that smegma, pretty please.
Don’t leave any smegma residue,
We’re making love, not cheese fondue.
When Harry returns from the shower, his poncho-wearing penis is quite soft. So I give him a rubdown by doing the foreskin pulldown. Quelle surprise, there’s some creamy residue left. You could make white cheddar Mac n’ Cheese with that smegma.
Harry says, “It would not wash off, I attempted.”
Honey, with the crust on that, soap won’t do. You’ll need CLR.
TO BE CONTINUED…