Post by Lily Harlem
When it comes to cocks of course it matters! Not necessarily that it has to be big, it just has to fit. Like keys in a lock, their sizes matter. Too big, too small and it ain’t going to work.
As an author, publishers frown on actual dimensions when writing about our heroes dangling bits – it’s not the right thing to do and to be honest this rule makes sense. For example, I wouldn't write “She pulled down his zipper, sneaked in her hand then gasped as eight inches of pulsing manhood lunged into her palm.” (Ha, ha, now I have a fab mental image of a big cock doing lunges and warming up for his run around the athletic track! – sorry, my odd mind!)
However, back to the topic, when the opportunity is there, as kids and adults, men do compare cock size. In the restrooms, showers etc. And why not, it’s easy for them, their cocks are out there, on display, unlike vaginas, which we have to admit, are pretty well hidden, when it comes to their size and shape, ‘we’ have a hidden sex organ - not the outside lippy bits, the internals.
That doesn’t mean that women don’t have different sized vaginas, we do, and this is the point. A women might have tight, short vagina and fall for a guy with an ultra-big penis – it’s not going to work, pain and dissatisfaction will reign, similarly a woman with a bigger vagina might hook up with a guy who is below averagely endowed, neither will feel anything, frustration will drive them crazy.
So it is very fortunate that we have the ability to be creative when it comes to sex, we have many body parts – and lots of toys at our disposal. There are more ways than one to pleasure each other.
So size matters, but both partners size, and not only that, the human body is about so much more than a few inches which extend outward or inward. I like to think all of my heroes have beautiful cocks and know how to use them in a way that is right for the woman they are with.
Here is a snippet from The Unwholesome Adventures of Harita taken from the wedding night and Kamini's first encounter with a cock (or as Indian-born Damon calls it lavDa.). She now knows that the arrangement of her marriage has been perfect and is already wearing love balls, a gift from him - so it's all getting rather exciting...
* * * * *
The door shut behind me with a quiet click.
“Go and stand by the mirror,” Damon ordered, his voice firmer than when we’d been outside the room.
An excited shiver snaked up my spine, and my pussy clenched around the balls. His commanding tone was deep and distinct and held an air of authority—he expected his wish to be complied with, there was no mistaking that.
Stepping obediently up to the mirror, I stared at my reflection. There was a rise of colour on my cheeks, but the kohl around my eyes was still in place and the scarlet lipstick I wore was lustrous and un-smudged. Damon’s face appeared over my shoulder. He took a lock of my shiny hair between two fingers and smoothed it down to the end that curled just at the level of my breast. As he smoothed his knuckles over the silk, my nipple tightened, protruding against the cup of my bra.
I gasped. My breath hitched, and my chest expanded.
“Mmm, you are indeed a very sexual woman, just as I suspected on our first meeting,” he murmured. “Which is just as well since you are now going to have to deliver what your sweet, dirty mouth talked about in the kitchen, but...” His gaze harnessed mine, and his thick eyebrows pulled low. “Just so we are clear, you will never, ever, use words like that again outside of the bedroom.” He caught my chin and lifted it upwards. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Damon, I understand.”
“Sir. In here you will only call me Sir. Once you step through this door, I am your master, you are here to please me.”
The change in his polite, restrained demeanour was startling and thrilled me all the more.
“Yes, Sir, yes, I understand.” An image of Harita, handcuffed to the bed and being thrashed with a crop sprang to mind. She always called Madan Sir when he was dominating her. Even when he had her in tears, begging for it to stop, she still called him Sir. That scene had hit my column three months ago and received delighted responses from fans.
“Good, now turn around.”
I turned and rested my back against the cool glass of the mirror. “Do you remember your words?”
“So put them into action.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and applied pressure—enough pressure to make my knees fold and my back slide downwards until I was face level with his groin. The metal balls inside me shifted, and I gripped them tight, wishing I could get more stimulation from them, enough to tip me into the climax that had been hovering all day.
“Unzip me,” he growled. “Take my lavDa into your sweet mouth. Don’t stop sucking until I tell you to.”
I risked a glance up as he leant forwards and placed his palms on the mirror above my head. His tense face had a pained, desperate look to it as he stared down at me. “Suck it, make love to it until I tell you to stop.”
I tugged down at the waistband of his pijamo, and he groaned as his cock, thick and erect, was released. My mouth watered as I looked at the heavily veined shaft and the smooth, mushroomed head. He had a wide slit, which was a darker rose colour than the flesh around it, and a tiny, silvery drop sat at the centre.
He was much bigger than I’d ever imagined he would be.
“Your hands, quickly,” he said in a strained voice. “Or you will be punished for disobeying me.”
Immediately I curled my fingers around the hot stalk, delighting in the satin-soft skin covering a rod as hard as marble. I pulled upwards and felt it bob, smoothed over the head, dipped my fingertip into the slit and spread the warm globule of viscous fluid around and back down the shaft.
“Ahh, yes, yes,” he panted. “That is good, but remember your words, you will take me into your mouth. Open up, Siyàra.”
I stretched my mouth wide. On some very basic level I knew that after doing this I would never be the same again. Taking Damon into my mouth, an act that was so rude and submissive, would change something between us. It would make my mouth his, an orifice he would use to take his pleasure whenever we were in this room and the mood took him.