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Loss of Manhood
by Jay Riggio
Last week I took my girlfriend out to an Asian style dinner. We split an appetizer of deep fried teriyaki-encrusted calamari. I dipped my chopsticks in and removed a circular fried morsel that strangely resembled the detached foreskin from an unsuspecting penis. At that particular moment, I stared closely at the ring and wondered why my precious skinhood had been taken from my sacred ray gun (what I sometimes call my penis). Where had the discarded sheath that once engulfed my little genitalia gone?
I began to research the topic of foreskin and the neccesary/unneccesary performance of circumcision. In my wanderings I found that some believed that the foreskin is a valuable piece of anatomy that the Lord Jesus Christ whipped up to protect the head of the penis from everyday wear and tear. Many circumcised men swear that the exposed head of their penis has declined in sensitivity due to the exposed penile glands. After my findings, I sat back in my chair, and gazed at my ceiling. My daydreams took me to an old but familiar time when I was the tender age of thirteen. I remembered how it felt when the first slut I ever encountered slipped her evening chilled fingertips into my jeans and grazed the head of my member on a neighborhood playground. The overwhelming sensation shot through my loins like a defective mortar on Labor Day. God I miss that girl. Her hands as soft and frail as her little heart. Anyway, today my girlfriend can work on my unimpressive meat stick for a good ten minutes before I am reminded that I should cum before I make another cup of coffee. I decided that the abuse had gone on for too long. The erosion that was slowly devouring my penile glans had to stop.