As you probably already know, I love sex stories that chronicle first times and journeys of discovery. Especially when those discoveries are good ones. Today’s guest blog is a gorgeous short story by Jennifer Greenberg (@jm_greenberg) about encountering an uncircumcised penis for the first time. I remember having the same nervousness and surprise when I experienced the opposite, so it’s nice to have a story from someone who experienced this pleasant surprise the other way round…
My first encounter with an uncircumcised penis
He kept the lights on. I figured if he had shut them off, at least it wouldn’t have been so confrontational. With the lights off, or at least the blinds drawn, it couldn’t stare me down. It wouldn’t stare me down.
He kept the lights on. And in broad daylight, too. Ink-soaked hipsters with five o’clock shadow skirting past the ground floor window, as unfazed as their tattoos. I glance over at the clock: 16:59. I would have done anything for some five o’clock shadow to cast itself upon that bright Tel Aviv bedroom, currently beaming with late afternoon sunshine. He was beaming with pride. Just an hour or two later, bright blues and cotton candy clouds would go flaccid below the horizon – finish before even starting, like flash fiction or 18-year-old boys.
“Splash fiction,” I giggle.
“Ticklish?” he gestures. More of a verdict than an inquiry.
If only it weren’t for those damn blinds. Why hadn’t I bought blackout shades when my ex had nagged me to? Edan had practically enforced it in his entitled “I am an Israeli Defense Force intelligence officer” tone – a false sense of authority that did not belong with a 21-year-old manchild beyond the barbed wire gates of his local base. Five years his senior – and double that in maturity – I, too, had not belonged with a 21-year-old manchild beyond the barbed wire gates of his local base.
Edan always preferred the lights off, while he had kept the lights on. Had he any clue that I had never seen one before? Or was it merely an oversight? An act of urgency in response to the scent of boyish B.O. still lingering on my cum-stained sheets.
Rebound or not, here I come!
I could always shut my eyes. Hide it from plain sight instead of letting it rear its ugly head on that moist, mid-august Shabbat day. I had never seen one before in its pure, unadulterated state. Out of sight, into mind, I had only heard the rumors:
“They’re unclean.”
“They’re unsanitary.”
“They’re insatiable.”
“They’re indestructible.”
“They’ll survive the next holocaust.” Alongside the family of cockroaches taking up residence in the Pyrex baking dish beneath my stove.
Lost in a typical end-of-the-weekend catastrophizing cycle, I had missed the speedy strip down. But at the end of my oversized bed on the undersized studio floorspace lay a neat little pile of khakis, briefs, socks, and…
Cock!
It had all happened so fast. I had not seen it coming. Well, I had seen it cumming, but that was later. Much later.
Much to my surprise, it was glorious. I wanted to dive into its divots, get to know its grooves, explore the wrinkles in time. As a nice Jewish girl who had only dated the occasional nice Jewish boy, this was my first encounter with an uncircumcised penis. And it would certainly not be my last. Nor even my second to last. In fact, in the moments that followed that first encounter, I had even debated converting to Christianity or Buddhism. I’m sure monks meet no mohels.
Thus, in a world filled with dizzying questions surrounding religion, my Tel Avivian tête-à-tête with an uncut ‘tête’ felt like a definitive answer. A clear statement. An explanation.