Zen Penis
By John Thursday • Apr 1st, 2009 • Category: Erotic Philosophy by John Thursday, FeaturesA penis needs context. I know mine does.
There are some women who don’t seem to understand this. Some women are under the impression that all men will leap to attention when in the presence of a naked woman. One woman I know refers to this as hard at first sight.
No doubt there are some men like this. But for many of us our sexual desire is more nuanced. I notice this whenever I am taking a bath.
Lying in the bathtub I am always aware of the oddest phenomenon. My soft penis hovers straight up, the tip just peeking out of the water. It doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t feel bad. It just is. It’s what I call Zen Penis.
In those moments I can imagine what it would be like to be void of all sexual desire. There is a momentary peace that washes over me. Followed by an inevitable sense of panic and dread that to experience Zen Penis is to have no penis at all.
The water reaches body temperature. The water is still. My penis floats above my body. It does not dangle against one or the other thigh. It does not snuggle in the folds of my scrotum. It hovers motionless. In the bathtub my penis is outside context.
With no context my penis ceases to exist. My penis has reached nirvana.
But I have not. That leaves me stuck in the cycle of death and rebirth while my Zen Penis is off being enlightened.
When not on a Vipassana this is not a good thing. Even on a Vipassana this is not a good thing.
Inevitably I reach down in the tub and grab hold of myself. But in the 98-degree water it is nearly impossible to give any physical context. I am forced to arch into the air letting my penis flop against my stomach like a shipwrecked man on a beach. In the air, against my dry flesh, my penis comes back to me.
Zen Penis is not limited to a bathtub, however.
The first time this happened to me I was inside a woman but could not feel a thing. She was cavernous. I literally heard my penis echo inside her. I tried moving at odd angles, turning and prodding in the direction I thought there might be a wall. But it was like having sex with the Montana sky, big and wide and open.
There was no friction, no point against which to gauge my movement. My penis lacked context. He was just a penis floating in Big Sky country. Zen Penis.
To be clear I can lose touch with my penis for emotional reasons. If I am overwhelmed or stressed, terribly worried. If I am feeling disempowered it as though my penis has gone on holiday. In such cases, if I am already having sex, I can get my head back in the game and soldier on.
There is no soldiering on through Zen Penis.
There I was, inside that girl’s Big Sky pussy. I could feel the droop, the soft bending that I tried to pass off as a thrust. It was hopeless. I was on top of this girl with an uncontextualized penis.
Big Sky girl is an extreme example. But there have been other times when women have seemed to try to touch as little of my body as possible in an effort to recreate some porn move. Or the women who have shut down in the middle of sex, eyes gone blank and crying out in some pre-recorded fashion.
Sometimes you can feel a woman just disappear beneath you even though she’s right there. This lack of presence leaves me cold. It’s as though my penis disappears with her. As though her lack of presence causes my penis to endeavor the ultimate presence. I feel my Zen Penis coming on.
It’s a difficult situation because women are under the misapprehension that a man will sleep with any willing woman. And if you are already inside her why on earth would you stop.
To stop having sex with a woman is the ultimate rejection, a primal slap in the face. “You know that one and only thing we actually evolved to do? I don’t want to do it with you.”
But the uncontextualized penis will not go on.
When I rolled off her Big Sky girl asked what was wrong. I could feel her body tense beside me.
“It’s funny,” I said. “I’m just having a very Zen moment.”
“Oh my god,” she said. “I brought you peace.” She sat up in bed, assumed the lotus position and began to Ohm. She looked good doing that naked and all. And I thanked god for hippies. My penis slept well that night.
John Thursday >> John Thursday was born and raised at Harbin Hot Springs, unaware there was such a thing as clothing until he was 15. He has since renounced all things Hippie. He earned a doctorate in Erotic Philosophy by defending Kant's lesser known The Critique of Pure Fellatio as a seminal work. he was hit on by Allen Ginsburg twice but not even once by Sami Beinstein, a non-hippie jewess. He currently beds a shiksa named Misty.
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is this the same thing as Zen DONG