the penis crisis revisited
If you are unfortunate enough to have read my page on an ongoing basis you’ll know I have mentioned my feelings about the ridiculous amount of nerve-endings in the male genitalia many times. An excessive amount. It was only after watching a film, of an erotic nature, that I noted that females seem like their nether regions are not lacking in receptors either.
What’s the point?
Well, I guess originally evolution wanted to make sure people were having a lot of sex due to the fact that the population was always hanging on by a thread due to starvation, volcanic eruptions and people getting eaten by bears all the time. So they loaded up the ol’ sex organs with enough nerve-endings to choke a horse and the next thing you know the planet is ass-deep in humans. i.e. it’s about time that evolution took it down a few notches in the “feel good” department.
I know personally I’m sick of spending half my time thinking about intercourse. Enough already, we have enough humans on the planet… we can retire the penis and replace it with something less ‘pleasure orientated.’
For example, I was thinking the other day about how sexuality fucks up everything. Even the most benign interaction. A girl was over my house. Cute but we are just friends. Petite. 115 lbs soaking wet. Dry? Also 115 lbs. Never understood that expression unless you were taking about a sheep dog or gorilla. She asks if she can use the bathroom and I reply to the affirmative. She walks in and closes the door.
I hear the lock click. She locked the door.
A natural thing to do right? We do it without thinking about it right?
We were the only ones in the house and she knew that I knew she was going into the bathroom. Nobody was going to accidentally walk in on her. The only logical thing to conclude is that she thought that once her pants were down I would barge right in and, unless the door was locked tightly, have my way with her caveman-style. I wouldn’t want to but my nerve-engorged member would drive me to it.
How insulting that she would think that of me. I guess she might feel more comfortable if I installed one of those giant wooden barricades that slide down to bar the door, like the one that they used to try to keep Kong out of the native’s abode with the big walls.
On the other hand, if I’d have watched her go into the bathroom and close the door and I hadn’t have heard the lock go I might have interpreted that as sign to follow her in and have my way with her caveman-style.
You know why? Because of my nerve-engorged member!
If humanity found a way to replace my penis with a token that I insert into a female’s baby-slot when I want to have a child all of this would be avoided. We clearly have enough people, what would be the harm in switching out the equipment?
Honestly, I’d like a day without having to think about sex. A day? Who am I kidding? I’d like to go ten fucking minutes without thinking about it. I can’t even type a sentence without slipping a fuck into it. And now I have to hope that my friend doesn’t read this story because then she’ll wonder what I mean by caveman-style.
Even I wonder what I mean by caveman-style. But I’ll tell you this much, it’s turning me on.
See what I mean?! That last sentence certainly didn’t originate in my frontal lobe. It came from parts south.
Think of what I could accomplish if I didn’t have a penis. Think what humanity could accomplish! We’d have had a man on the moon by 1920. But no, evolution is busy building massive football players with necks the size of my waist and penises that could choke a horse. And, no doubt, have.
Fucking football players.
Show me one NFL player that doesn’t have less than seven illegitimate kids. Can’t be done. Degenerates.
So what was I saying?
Oh yeah… too many nerve-endings in the penis.
Evolution, it’s up to you. I’ve been a big supporter of yours since I was a kid but it’s time you stepped up and sorted out the whole nerve-endings-n-the-penis crisis. You have to take the responsibility of the penis out of my hands. And the literal penis out of my hands.
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