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I came across some stuff I had written years ago. I was going to make a pornographic memoir out of it;

The Phallus

It is difficult to use the thing for my own pleasure. The idea of it is pleasurable, the position he must assume for me to use it. I can rest my hands on his slim hips, I can hook my fingers around them, regulate his rhythm to my own, and when I tease him, slapping the lubricated tip of it against the pleasantly smooth skin of his arse I can bend over his snuggled-down body, whisper into the back of his neck. I have just discovered the back of my own neck and the goose-bumps that a whisper can raise on my skin, and so I whisper into that soft place and hope that he is tingling with my words.

“I have got it all slippery for you,” I tell him, more words from the repertoire of pornography that I secretly enjoy, “I’m going to slide it inside.”

His skin is clean and fragrant. Powdered and pomaded gay men are a cliché, but it is still a pleasure to taste a hint of cinnamon behind his ear. I kiss it wetly, my back teeth are aching to bite down into the exposed flesh but I restrain myself. It is new and I am still shy of him, sucking my stomach tight when he turns to look at me. I want him to find me attractive despite the way my breasts sway under their own weight when I move over him. I want him to bury his head in the pillow and bite down on it and to emerge from his climax with a look of wonder knowing that I am as good as any boy who has had him, no, better than them, more sensitive to his needs. Because of this anxiety to perform I must put aside my disappointment with the construction of this small rubber penis. When it emerged from it’s brown paper packaging I was impressed by the soft black leather, and the studs and straps. It was the best I could afford on a student’s budget, and it was immediately recognisable as a thing of illicit pleasure, but when I strapped it on there was a disappointed emptiness inside me, no rubber protrusion to sink into the softness of my own flesh and a pubic plate that chastely hides my clitoris, constructed so that even a finger could not sneak passed the leather barrier.

I lean in as close to his ear as I can. There is the stiff rubber between his back and my stomach and it is a feeling I like, I rub my body against his, in the pretence that this friction will maintain the hardness of it.