Tag Archives: dick

On the awareness of your cock

From the first moment I meet you I am curious about your dick. If you’re particularly attractive I’ll be acutely aware of it, there in your trousers.

I might not even be able to see it – some guys wear nice tight jeans that show off exactly where it is, how big and which way it’s hanging, but others are more modest and shy – they’ll hide it in baggy trousers or under long hoodies. That’s a shame, but it doesn’t really stop me.

Do other girls feel like this? Your cock is something I’m immensely curious about.
It doesn’t really matter if I fancy you or not – your dick is still a dick, and it’s still something I don’t have but want to see.

Are you cut or uncut? Is it nice and thick? How much does it grow when you get turned on?

Your dick is so fucking pretty

Girl with a one track mind once wrote about boys on the tube who sit with their legs wide open. It’s annoying for those next to them, and desperately distracting for those opposite. But if you want to show off your wares, it’s an excellent way to do so. Because make no mistake – I’m looking. Subtly, of course. I want to know more about your dick. I want to see it. If I can make out the shape of it in the crotch of your trousers all I’ll be able to think about is what it would be like to sit on.

This is especially true of older men. Guys around 50. I’m not entirely sure why, but I have trouble imagining a guy of that age with a cock that isn’t big and thick – the sort of cock you could beat someone round the face with, that would give a good hard handful. That would actually hurt me.

I know not all guys reach the age of 50 and magically acquire a huge cock, but if one of them is standing in front of me on the tube and my face is at crotch level, I have to look. To see if it’s filling his trousers. To see if, as his mind wanders on a boring journey, it’s semi-hard.

I’ll look at you too – in the pub, in the street, on the bus. In the hope that you might be sporting the beginnings of a nice fat erection.

And if I’ve fucked you, if you’re one of mine, I’ll find it hard to sit down next to you without wanting to run my hand across to your lap – stroke it through the denim. Squeeze it, touch it, put pressure on it – feel it growing hard under my hand.

Getting caught

I think someone busted me today. An older guy, standing in front of me on the train. He had something that was either semi-hard or showed a ridiculous amount of promise. As he reached up to hold onto the bar it was outlined nicely in his trousers – suit trousers, worn far too tight.

He looked at me, saw my gaze, and shifted uncomfortably.

This, I thought, must be how girls feel if skeezy guys stare at their tits for too long. This is how I feel sometimes when someone’s gaze goes beyond flattery and starts straying into ‘will they follow me home and jizz on my doorstep?’ territory.

I want to end this with a plea for understanding – looking at people is normal. It’s fine. Humans think about sex – if we didn’t think about it, we’d never get up the courage or the imagination to do it in such interesting and devious ways.

But at the same time I’m overcome with shame. If you catch me looking I’ll blush and squirm with humiliation, if you call me out I’ll apologise. But there’s no apology strong enough to make up for objectifying you. There’s nothing I can say to take away the things my mind does when I’ve got time to kill and some tightly-packed trousers in my eyeline.

wearing corsets turns you into a massive poser - try it for yourself

On the terror of being confronted by a circumcised cock

The first time I saw a circumcised dick I froze in fear. Not because it looked weird (although for the record: it did. Don’t judge me) but because I didn’t have a sodding clue what to do with it.


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On choosing the right words

Writing about sex involves very careful word selection. I probably use some words that kill your mood sometimes, and likewise there are some words that make me dry up and cringe into a ball of hateful misery. Here are some of them, feel free to add to the list.


You might think it is a sexualised form of a common word: I think it’s a spelling error. You say ‘tomato’, I say ‘I will probably be less attracted to you if you spell things wrong’.


Good lord no. For so many many reasons, of which here are a few:

  • ‘Pussies’ belong to porn stars and gangster hos, so experience implies that a pussy is something for a guy to fuck, not something for a girl to get genuine eye-rolling, bedsheet-tearing pleasure from.
  • Say it out loud: “wet pussy”. Eugh. “wet pussy” It doesn’t sound like a part of a person, but something you might step in.
  • Mrs Fucking Slocombe

Any word for ‘tits’ that ends in -ies

I have never had ‘titties’ or ‘boobies’. I have tits. These words are only acceptable during comedy, or if you are a member of the Bloodhound Gang.

Medical terms

When I leave the doctor’s surgery my vagina becomes a cunt. My breasts become tits. Likewise although my doctor has a penis, you have a cock. Dick. Prick. By using medical terms I start expecting a medical examination, so if you call it a ‘penis’ I’m less likely to suck it than to give it an ultrasound.

Cutesy names for your cock

You don’t fuck someone raw with ‘Barry Junior’. And I don’t want to swallow ‘Mr Winkie’. Come on, lads – it’s ‘it’, not ‘he’.

I have no idea why any guy ever does this, unless he has been with a girl who is a bit afraid of his looming, punishing hardon. Men: your cock is the most powerful, brilliant thing about you; don’t turn it into a fucking Disney character.

Tits, face, arse, stomach… what are the best places to jizz?

I once got a text from a boy that just read: “When I see you on Friday can I come in your hair and/or eyes?” Brilliant. Not specifically the places, but the fact that he wanted it so badly. He had a thing for mess. Remembering this got me thinking about being covered in spunk, and the best places to jizz…