Saoirse's Penile Preference Pt. 01

"You're the first uncircumcised guy I've been with," Saoirse said one evening — apparently from nowhere — when we were lying in bed after sex. We had been going out for over a month by then and it had been the most exciting start to a relationship I had ever experienced. From the moment we were introduced by a mutual friend at a party, and we discovered how much we had in common — right down to a similarly skewed sense of humour — we were inseparable. After we started sleeping together — in the first week we were introduced, after meeting up for a drink one evening a few days after the party — we would regularly stay up until the early hours having wild sex, cuddling and laughing. On nights I saw Saoirse I was always exhausted in work the next day.

The unprompted comment about my penis caught me off balance. Saoirse is a Catholic girl from the countryside of Ireland, and my parents are non-practising Christians from London. Circumcision was never something I had thought much about. Until I met Saoirse.

"You're only just noticing I'm uncircumcised?" I asked her, though I didn't really know what to say.

"No, I noticed it early on. I just didn't want to say anything in case you thought I was obsessed!"

"With my penis? You can be obsessed with that," I laughed.

I was curious how a 24-year-old woman had never been with an uncircumcised man before me. She told me that she had been a late bloomer in relationships, which was a surprise to me because she was so beautiful — with her dirtyy blonde hair, and bright blue eyes flashing mischief when she smiled or made a sly comment, which was often. She was resting her head on my chest, looking up at me while she told me the story. Her pale body — slim, except for the swell of her hips — curled up against mine, one petite leg hooked over my lower body so I could feel her soft, pubic hair nestle against my hip. She told me her first boyfriend had been circumcised when he was a child, because he was a muslim. He never knew any different, and so neither did she. They were together for 3 years, from early on at university until some years afterwards. After they broke up she dated another man for several months, American she said. He too was circumcised.

"I never thought much about it because I had never seen anything else," she said, lifting her head slightly to look up at me.

"You didn't know it wasn't normal?" I asked.

"I didn't think much of it. I mean, I knew somewhere in the back of my mind I would probably find a guy who was different at some point. But I never even saw a penis really until my first boyfriend!"

"What a good little Catholic girl you were," I grinned at her, reaching over to give her pert bum a light, playful slap. "What happened?"

She laughed and then lightly hit my chest in mock outrage. "Does it bother you that mine is uncircumcised?" I asked her.

She thought for a moment before speaking. "No," she said. "It's just a little different, that's all."

"You don't have a preference?"

"Hmm, I don't think so. Girls care less about you boys' penises than you like to think," she said, arching her eyebrows in that cute, faux-withering way of hers. Her face softened and she settled her head back onto my chest. "But I like yours. That's the most important thing. I like all of you."

Saoirse pulled away from me and propped herself up a little on her elbow so she could run her eyes up and down my naked body. From that angle I could fully take in how her pale body curved, cinched in the middle before swelling out at her hips, and finally tapered from her thighs down to her slim ankles. Her plump little breasts bounced lightly as she readjusted her body. Was it my imagination or could I see her nipples getting hard as she started to run the open palm of her free hand from my cheek, down my neck, and over my chest? She lightly brushed my hardening cock as her hand continued down my thighs, lingering on the thin, whiter streak of skin that curved from the lower inside part of my thigh down to my shin.

"That's a scar I have from a biking accident," I told her. "I was mountain biking in Scotland when I came off and got a pretty deep gash from the impact." She traced its bumpy edge absent-mindedly with her forefinger. "It's pretty ugly," I added.

"I think its pretty cool," she said, still focused on my leg. "There's something sexy about scars."

For those first few months our relationship was intoxicating. It was like no honeymoon period I had ever experienced before. I was 29 and had had two serious relationships, but being with Saoirse was a rush beyond either of them, or anything else at all in fact. And I could see in her eyes that she was feeling exactly the same way about me. She exuded an energy and passion towards me, which in turn fed my passion for her. Just looking into each other's eyes was electrifying for me, and I could see for her too.

For a former inexperienced Catholic schoolgirl she was surprisingly uninhibited and in touch with her erotic side. Saoirse delighted in teasing me, in and out of the bedroom. Collecting expensive lingerie was a favorite hobby of hers, and it bordered on obsession. Each time she bought a new set — whether classy, lacy French underwear or a barely-there electric pink bra-and-thong pairing— she had to model it for me. I was happy to indulge her. When we were out and dressed up nicely she delighted in pressing herself against me so I could feel her garter belt through her dress, or she would whisper in my ear that to avoid showing a panty line she had dispensed with underwear altogether. After almost every night out we would end up back at hers or mine, locked together in passion. Sometimes we didn't make it to the bedroom. Late at night once we were almost caught grinding into each other, braced against the front door of her apartment, by her neighbour coming up the stairs.

We devoured each other's bodies for those first months. Even after the fire started to burn lower, she or I would suggest new things to explore in our sex life. Something she was particularly fond of was role play. We had lots of different scenarios to play out on the evenings when we felt like something different. I would be the masseuse and she the spoilt rich-girl client, or she would be my maid and seduce me while my 'wife' was away for the weekend. One of her favourite ways to play was to pretend we were friends, but not lovers. She would come in to see me in my room and catch me masturbating to photos of her on my computer and have to confront me about it. When pressed she would admit she was turned on by what she saw. I spent a lot of time masturbating for her like this. Sometimes she would wait for a long time before revealing to me that she was watching. I loved the thought of her eyes on me as I stroked my hard cock to her photos, pretending like I didn't know she was there. The sex after those games was always incredible.

She didn't bring up circumcision again during those early months. I never really thought about it again either during that time. Before we had that first conversation about her two exes we had already gotten used to each other's bodies and figured out what the other liked. She was a quick learner and had quickly adjusted her mouth technique to what I liked during blowjobs. At first she was really too rough for me, and I had to ask her to not use so much suction. It didn't occur to me until much later that she must have developed this technique to please her first two boyfriends, who presumably had penises that needed rougher stimulation than mine. She didn't take much instruction for her hand technique, however. My foreskin was long enough so that it covered only about half of my head when hard, and — after I turned down her offer of lube — she seemed to figure out quickly enough to work the skin over the head of my cock.

Our sexual relationship was so intense, and we were both so consumed with desire for each other, that we would spend a lot of time talking about sex even when we weren't having it. If we were apart for a few days we would have to satisfy ourselves with long sexting conversations, sometimes replaying our favourite role play scenarios. I don't know how many times I narrated the scene of her clandestinely catching me wanking myself to her Facebook photos via text message, while she was on a coffee break at work or making herself come with her fingers alone in a bed in another part of the country.

When we were together, too, we would often discuss fantasies or just talk about sex. Saoirse was always asking me what things turned me on, what she did that I liked, what I liked about her body and much else besides. I was equally fascinated and excited to hear her answers to those questions. I discovered from this that she quite liked power play in sex, both being dominant and being submissive. She also enjoyed 'just the right amount' of pain: light slaps to her face, spanking, hard twisting of her nipples. She grilled me on what sorts of porn I watched. In turn, I found out that she had never really gotten off to porn; she preferred to use her imagination.

"What's your favourite part of a man's body?" I asked her once. She was lying against me under the covers, naked except for a red silk thong.

"Oh I can't pick just one part," she said.

"This isn't binding!" I laughed.

"Well, if I had to pick... Nice, broad shoulders are very sexy. And sharp cheekbones. Warm eyes... with depth to them. And hands — big hands. Strong hands make you think of what they can do to you. Especially if a guy is bigger, physically, than a girl. That's a turn on." Her dainty hand found mine and we interlaced our fingers. "For me — I don't think this is true of every girl, but you know where my mind goes — I like a guy's dick."

I'm sure she could feel it as my penis stiffened, resting as it was against her soft belly.

"What about it do you like?" I asked.

"It depends. The thought of what it can do is always on your mind. It's pretty amazing how it changes when you get turned on, too, how it goes from small and soft to big and hard. Just like yours is doing right now!" Her searching hand encircled my growing erection. "Yours gets so fat when it's hard. It's impossible not to think of how good that feels in my cunt." She didn't often say words like 'cunt' even when we were deep in a role play. I could tell she was getting very turned on.

"It's sexy when you talk dirty," I said. "You should do it more often."

"I should. I will," she said in a sultry voice. Her silky hand slowly pulled down on my fully hard cock until the head was completely exposed. "They look sexy too, dicks." My heart was beating more quickly.

"Mmmm and what do you like about how they look?" I asked.

"The thickness, how hard they get — like I said. The head is the nicest part, though." She gave my cock a soft kiss, and slipped her moist, plump lips over the tip until the rim of my head was inside her hot, wet mouth. I groaned and lay back as she sensuously sucked me. She kept one hand at the base of my shaft gently fondling my balls. When I looked down at her gamine features, framed by the sleek, blonde hair, I saw her eyes were closed in concentration. She looked to be lost in her own world, enjoying having me in her mouth even more than I was.

I stroked Saoirse's head and cupped one of her silky breasts, toying with the nipple and eliciting a low moan from her. I was grinding my pelvis so that my cock would go deeper into her mouth. She gently twisted the shaft with her hand and sped up her mouth action. It felt so good, in only a few seconds after that I could feel a deep orgasm building. My body tightened and my cock exploded into her mouth as she lapped it all up. Saoirse smiled serenely as she pulled her face away from my cock to come up for a kiss.

"You have a lovely cock, and a lovely head too," she said.

Saoirse was insatiable, and I loved it. But after a few months of great, regular sex I noticed that sometimes my penis would get too sore to go at it for a third time in a night. If Saoirse wanted more and I couldn't provide it I was happy to go down on her and make her come with my tongue, but she admitted always preferring full sex. She might try and reciprocate my efforts by licking and stroking my cock, but if it was too sore for sex it was often too sore for anything else.

I didn't think too much of it. It seemed natural to me that after one or two long lovemaking sessions every few days that a delicate place like that would need time to recover. It had always been that way with me, and no girl — not even the most insatiable — had ever complained. It never occurred to me that it might have been a problem not being able to deliver.

My discomfort was mainly on my foreskin, which would get red and irritated with too much friction. But I also noticed the frenulum sometimes stung a bit after a hard fuck too. At the time I didn't think too deeply about this, but in hindsight I realize the frenulum was somewhat short and tight. Sometimes when Saoirse was wanking me by pumping my foreskin over the head she would be too enthusiastic on the downstroke and it would sting a little. The same was true when she would give me blowjobs. She noticeably slowed down after having pulled back too hard on the foreskin. I must have been wincing.

Saoirse told me she was concerned. She obviously didn't like to hurt me, and was worried that sex was going to do me real damage some day. I noticed she now seemed distracted when we would have sex in ways she never used to be. Clearly she was preoccupied with not hurting me, even when I was sure she couldn't possibly — and it was affecting our sex life. The carefree early days seemed to have run their course. Nevertheless, outside of sex our relationship was still strong. After only 5 months of dating we moved into a flat together and started to plan for a serious future.

Not long after that, one weekend I was sitting in the living room reading when Saoirse came in looking nervous. Her usually bright features were darkened with worry. I knew this look. It always prefaced a serious conversation. I thought it strange that, even though she was so free of hang-ups in the bedroom, she nevertheless found it difficult to be open and honest about everyday relationship issues.

"I've been doing some reading," she began, haltingly. "About penises." I had to laugh at the juxtaposition.

"No, this is serious," she said, not smiling. I put the book down and became solemn, listening. "I feel bad saying this, but I've not been... I've been a little..." She composed herself. "I think our sex life has dipped a bit and it — it's making me a little unhappy. Quite unhappy. It's difficult to talk about. We have so much chemistry, but I'm not feeling as satisfied as I used to. I think it's because sometimes you... are too sore to keep going. This hasn't ever happened to me before."

I wasn't all that surprised to hear this. "I know. It's not ideal for me either," I said. She sat down next to me. I put an arm around her. "But we have been having so much sex I think it's not so strange. Don't you ever get sore?"

She looked down. "Yes, of course. But I think what's going on with you is... more than that."

"You think so? It seems normal to me — it's been like this with my other partners too, when we were, uh, doing it this often." She was still looking down.

"I'm not sure. It's just a bit different from my experience. With my ex and everything." She said, quietly, embarrassed. "I'm not comparing. You're great."

"Oh, OK," I said, awkwardly but trying to hide it. I wanted to move on from the topic of her exes. "What's this you've been doing about reading, then?"

"Well, I asked google about the foreskin irritation, and the tightness in the — it's called a frenulum, I found out," she said, looking at me. "It doesn't seem like what's happening is normal, necessarily. And I thought maybe you just don't realise it, you know, because you've always been this way."

I looked at her, puzzled.

"And I had a thought," she said. "Remember how I said both my exes were circumcised? Well, the medical pages I looked at online all seemed to come back to that same thing."

"You mean circumcision?" I asked, a little confused.

"Yes."

"But, that's for men who can't even have sex or masturbate without problems," I said. "Unless you're doing it as part of your religion it's only to solve real medical issues."

"Well, doesn't this feel like one of those? Aren't you having problems, discomfort, with sex?"

When she put it that way I admitted she might have a point.

"I just want our sex life — our lives together — to be as good as it can be," Saoirse said, leaning in to me and placing a hand on my cheek. "And I know you would like to not have to worry about pain during sex, wouldn't you?"

"It is frustrating," I admitted. "But I don't know. Circumcision seems very extreme as a solution — if it's even a problem in the first place."

"I'm not saying you have to do it. I just wanted to tell you what I read. And I put that together with my experiences of guys before you."

"With circumcised guys."

"Right."

"And?"

"Well," she considered for a moment. "They could just... keep going. They never had any pain, and we had as much sex or even more than we've been having." She fixed her brilliant blue eyes on mine and I saw a brief twinkle of mischief. "And I want to be having that much sex with you. Only with you." I could feel the flicker of an erection as she looked at me like that.

"It's difficult to say no when you talk like that," I said, grabbing her hand.

"I'm not asking — yet," Saoirse said. "Just do some reading and then we'll discuss it."

The next week Saoirse was scheduled to go out of town for a business trip. It would be the ideal time to research and think, she said. So I did.

Google confirmed what she said. The problems I was having did suggest both some unnatural irritation of the foreskin and possibly that my frenulum was too short. And circumcision was sometimes recommended as a treatment. Though it did seem like my problems were significantly less severe than the cases I read about online. While I sincerely wanted to please Saoirse, and to have a perfect sex life with her, I felt quite strongly that I didn't want part of my penis cut off in order to do that.

Nevertheless, I looked up local clinics that could perform the surgery, how much it would cost, what the pain and recovery might be like, and other basic facts. It did sound painful. The before and after photos on the medical website were quite interesting though. There was something fascinating about the look of a circumcised penis, especially when it was soft and the head was still visible.

My internet search also took me to testimonials of men who had been circumcised as adults. They described the relief and pleasure around being able to have sex with their wives and girlfriends without pain or worry. That definitely sounded appealing.

Saoirse returned on Friday evening and I cooked her dinner at the flat to celebrate. That five days was the longest spell apart for us since we started going out. We both dressed up nicely for the occasion. She was wearing an elegant green, halter neck cocktail dress with a plunging back, tantalizingly exposing her from her shoulders to the small of her back. We ate and drank wine, laughing and flirting all night just like a great first date all over again.

After dinner she took the plates to the kitchen. When she came back we sat closely together on the sofa, her legs draped over mine.

"I've been meaning to ask how your research project went," Saoirse said.

"I looked it up, and thought about it. Like you asked."

"What did you learn?"

"Seems like you were right, more or less," I told her. "It could be something that could help."