I've had so many experiences with women regarding this topic... it's inevitable, actually, once things get interesting. If there is one thing I can say, it's that circumcision is THE conversation starter in bed. Only few women I've been with let it go without comment.
The daughter of my parents’ colleagues, who turned out to grow up to be a beautiful, blond school teacher later, is famous with me for mystifying me and my friend Beppo at the age of six (she would have been around that age herself) when she barged in on our far-peeing competition in the city park and said “ha! Can’t even see the nozzle on you guys! Well, that’ll have to be chopped off!” I understood years later that she had a brother who underwent a partial circumcision around that time, so she was most likely referring to that. I remember I was really frightened for a long time after that, and never asked her to clarify. Not even when we sat together in her girlie room around age 13, eyeing each other with the kind of thrill you tend to when you are that age. She never asked me though whether “it had been chopped off” at any stage, which is unfortunate, because she grew up to be quite a looker.
A bit of a simple girl upstairs perhaps, she tended to bum lifts off me when I used to drive home from vocational school on weekends, and we ended up spending an hour or so together in the car, talking. We would have been 18 at the time, and prone to the kinds of heated, philosophical contemplations you tend to indulge in at that age. And sure enough, the topic of circumcision did come up, as an example of how parents shouldn’t force anything to do with religion upon their kids. I already knew I had a fetish on this topic at the time, so I took the opportunity to steer the conversation toward the far more interesting question “but apart from the religious stuff, don’t you think it looks better?” She blushed enormously, and allowed that she had never seen one. But was I, by any chance, circumcised…? I really, really wished right there and then that I was, so I could say “yep; care to take a look?” But damn it, I was not circumcised then, and that finished the topic.
In porn terms, she would probably be described as “BBW” – chubby, but otherwise very pretty, and with hypnotically large boobs we guys in class used to be totally distracted by all day long. She lived in the same accommodation block as I did during vocational school, and was clearly after me. Every opportunity she got, she’d be spending time with me. I was a little cautious because she seemed the type who wants to get married and have kids asap, which wasn’t my life vision at the time. So I didn’t go for the easy sex opportunity out of fear it might terminate my dreams; now I wish I’d given it a go, because hey, she was hot and wanted it, big time. Anyway, one day we were discussing how guys could get out of the army draft, and she volunteered the idea “hey, you could just say you’re Jewish! They’d have to let you go because they serve pork there for lunch and stuff, so there’s no way you could eat that! But you’d have to get circumcised.” From there, it got really hot. She seriously started researching ways for me to get circumcised, and gave me regular updates. “Yah, the doctor will only do it if you have a medical reason; but you could do it yourself! My friend is a nurse and says it’s super easy; or you find a rabbi…” In the end, we stopped seeing each other because it became plain obvious that I had fallen completely for another girl, …
… who really had me completely hooked. Tall, dark, charismatic, spoke fluent French, and was clearly the most intelligent and humorous person in class. She always wore riding boots, and was definitely, as the British would say, posh. Our surreal, eastern European-style humour, commanding manner, and infatuation with France made us an instant match for anyone to see. She looked entirely like Eden Mor, but without the weight problem, and had Jewish ancestry – stunning girl. We went on a road trip to Prague soon, and as the topic of conversation turned toward army conscription (at that age, that is a topic), I mentioned the idea of avoiding the draft by getting circumcised and claiming to be Jewish. She found the idea utterly hilarious and for days gave me a hard time for it, culminating in one beer-fuelled episode when she proclaimed “oh, you would not like that, I’ve seen it – it would be like… this!” We were sitting in my parked car, getting ready to drive back to the hotel (at that time, there was no talk of a drink driving limit in the Czech Republic for westerners, it seemed to us); it was late at night, and she pulled out my penis, and retracted the foreskin till it plopped into place behind the corona; then she stuffed it back inside my pants and gave me a knowing look that seemed to say “see?” It was this well-trained grip that was part of why I found her so astonishing: She seemed to handle men with an ease that implied years of experience. To her, it was all play things. And that really fuelled my imagination as to what else she might be capable of. But apart from jerking me off in bed later that night, demonstrating how circumcised guys can’t use the foreskin, she never did go any further with me. Only weeks later, she began a relationship with a Jewish photographer from Paris. I didn’t grieve for long though, because along came…
… who became my first real girlfriend for several years. Half Czech and half Jordanian, she was very beautiful and artistic, and intensely intellectual. We had our first time with each other, and I never showed myself naked to her with foreskin, because I feared things might go the way they had with the other, previous girl in my life who came from a circumcising culture if she found out I wasn’t circumcised. The masquerade went well until she caught me with the foreskin forward in my sleep once. She thought it hilarious that I had one, because “doesn’t that usually get taken off during pre-school?” She had younger brothers, and recalled their circumcisions as a routine event. When she decided to go on the pill so we could have sex without condoms, I discovered that I had frenulum breve, and that it hurt like hell to have sex without a condom. That, in turn, easily gave the doctor the required, medical reason to agree to have that seen to. The doctor I saw about this never spent much time explaining anything, and only said “yep, we’ll detach that frenulum Wednesday, it’s a jiffy.” In the days before that, my girlfriend and I spent some time imagining what it would be like afterwards. I thought the doctor would only be detaching the frenulum, as he had said; but she was of the opinion there was only one way to do it, and that would be to circumcise. I only knew the partial circumcisions I had seen in school locker rooms, and showed her what those looked like by simulating it with partially retracted foreskin; but she shook her head and pulled the skin way back behind the corona, saying “it would be like this.” We agreed that that would mean no masturbation would be possible any longer, and she confided that she didn’t think Arab men could actually do it. But, she said, “you wouldn’t have to anyway.” She was great.
"The Circ Nurse":
The morning after the whatever it was going to be, frenulum detachment or circumcision (I was OK with either one, the objective was simply to have better sex), I was woken up in the hospital bed at a crazy hour by the morning nurse. I don’t know if they still do that, but back then, you’d have a morning visit at five in the morning, apparently. She was pretty much my age, and I actually knew her from my circle of friends, which made this a bit awkward. Not least because she was like, “so! Circumcision, huh? Excellent, wish all guys had that! So much neater. Let’s take a look and change that bandage.” As she took off the bandage, while I was having the erection of a lifetime, I was aghast at the sight: A good two centimetres behind the corona, there were freaky-looking, bloody sutures going all the way around the shaft, which was drum tight. I told her I had no idea they would be doing it like that. “Yeah, that’s how they do them now,” the nurse said as she was dabbing on some ointment, “better to have the stitches a bit further back, heals more easily. Those loose ones are crap.” Then she simply wrapped new bandaging around and said “if it’s too tight, just sit up.” I realized what she meant when I lay back down; those sutures were really beginning to pull hard on the skin. Sitting up pushed the shaft skin forward and reduced the tension. And it did heal very quickly. It was only ten days until I started having sex with my girlfriend again, now without condom, and hot damn! It was amazing! Really direct, and I could see very well that that kind of stimulation did a lot for her, too where she had previously been quite unresponsive. It was like, she could feel that there was much more “travel” now. And it took some time before she realized that the whole thing about circumcised guys being unable to masturbate was actually bogus. I sure didn’t tell her once I found out how, haha. Her reaction to seeing it for the first time was lovely, too. First she was like “wow! They really cut it crazy far back… poor thing… I’ve never seen it done that tight…” And you could tell she was turned on by it. She could not take her hands off it, even at night, when we slept.
When I emigrated to Canada, I met this used car salesgirl while contemplating to buy a used Camaro from her lot, and we ended up becoming friends. She was eight years older than me and really amazing – redhead, freckles, tall, half Italian, and very original. She makes films these days (no, not what you’re thinking! Artsy stuff). Her best friend was some other retail angel, working at a furniture place, and I have an inkling the two may have had a lesbian relationship going then. Anyway, we drank and partied a lot, as one does, and one evening over a few mojitos at Earls, we happened upon the topic of differences between men from different cultures. And sure enough, soon, the question was popped: “So, you’re from Europe – does that mean you’re from Europe down there, too…” *hicks, giggle*. I never managed to elaborate, because Ms Retail kept sabotaging the topic with distractions, but by the time we had all gone back to my place for more drinks, they were both like, “ok, show time! We want to see the great uncircumcised schlong!” To which Ms Retail said “they look like dogs’ dicks, don’t they?” Well, surprise – mine didn’t. Unfortunately, we were all so wasted that things didn’t really go any further than that, and ended up with some of us leaving, some barfing all over, and some just collapsing on the couch. But on another occasion, I did get laid with the Camaro girl, and she engaged me in fairly in-depth observations on how Canadian circumcisions look different from mine. She concluded that European circs are clearly haute-couture, very precisely cut, and with a v-shape underneath, which she thought was neat because it emulates the contour of the glans. Like I said, she had an eye for aesthetics.
The next Canadian encounter was with a girl from my art history class who had Dutch roots and seemed quite into me. She was more of a nerdy type, wore glasses and seemed to have a thing for lumberjack shirts, and I’d say she’d qualify for the description of “curvy.” As we were chilling out on her couch with some wine one day, and the conversation became a bit more inspired, it became quite obvious to me that she, too was hoping to get to play with some good old European fun skin. That dawned on me when she insinuated that she knew very well how to get off Europeans, which was “so much easier!” And she suggestively tugged on one of her shirt sleeves. She never got to prove it because I ended up fucking her brains out a few glasses of Chardonnay later that night in her bed in the dark, after which she was basically catatonic; and then she met the man of her life later that week in pottery class. But hey. Good encounter.
"Montana Gas Station Girl":
One spring break saw me straying into US-territory from the Canadian side with my old conversion van, and while filling up, I managed to chat up a girl refuelling an old Impala with Idaho plates on the other side of the pump. She had short blond hair and was wearing a denim overall, like you’d see in “The Waltons.” She seemed pretty intense. This was in Montana, and we were both obviously in for long distance road trips, so we had lots of stories to tell, and hit it off so well that we decided to have dinner together right there, at the truck stop. It turned out that she was strapped for cash and driving back home from a failed attempt at living in Oregon, and as they were beginning to close down the restaurant for the night, I offered her to spend the night in my van instead of in the car – hey, at least I had a big bed in there. No funny stuff, scout’s honour! Well, turns out there was that bottle of Jackie I had, and she ended up contributing some Coors, and before you know it, we were well on our way to funny stuff after all. Not too much though, but she did ask “I have to ask you – it’s been killing me: Is it true that European guys still all have their foreskins? What does it ever look like? On a human, I mean? I’ve seen plenty of animals, and, um… that must be so animal-like…?” I ended up telling her that I knew both ways, and had recently changed to the dark side, which seemed to put her at ease, even though we clearly weren’t going to do anything with it. I suppose it reduced my freak factor for her, and we both ended up sleeping quite well that night, no funny stuff, just some snoring.
As university life continued, I dated this very homesick and curvy French girl who tended to wear very revealing tops and baggy men’s jeans. I think she just liked me because I was a fellow European. One day we had finished off a good bottle of red together, and she started talking about how baggy American men’s jeans were, and that that was probably because American men needed something wide to keep their circumcised penises comfortable. We launched right into that topic, and she voiced the strangest beliefs, like “circumcised men come too fast” and “I’d never circumcise my son because it’s too messy, circumcised guys always come in their pants,” yadda yadda. I actually half-suspected she was winding me up, but she couldn’t have known I was circumcised, so perhaps she was trying to reassure me instead; I don’t know. Either way, I got to prove to her that night that the notion of circumcised men coming too fast was wrong, haha. We pulled those silly jeans off her and had some absolutely epic sex. If anyone came a bit fast, it was her. Several times.
A few years on, the Camaro girl got married to a lawyer and appointed me as photographer for the occasion. We had been maintaining a great friendship over the years. As the wedding dinner went into the late hours of the evening, she introduced to me a friend of hers who may have been in her late thirties, tall and very attractive in a proverbial red dress, with the directive to “be really nice to my photographer friend.” I thought this a bit curious, but began to understand what she meant when I ended up at the friend’s fashionable downtown apartment later that night. Apparently, Camaro girl’s stroke of genius idea had been to bring together two of her notoriously long-term bachelor friends in a state of heightened inebriation, both dressed to impress. It worked out really well, and my fame had clearly paved the way for an interesting turn of events: “I heard you have a really beautiful thing,” she suddenly said, and promptly began to unpack me as we were still finishing up some more champagne. Well, what can you say – thanks again, Camaro girl, for making someone curious about my penis, haha. Haute couture is all worth it.
When I left North America for France after several years, my newly acquired, North American accent followed me and one Saturday evening in my village in Alsace promptly scored me a lonely, American English teacher lady my own age who downright lunged for me at the restaurant when she heard me speak. She was blond and really a bit on the chubby side, albeit with an eye-popping pair of breasts which probably startled me into greeting her with a slightly bigger smile than I normally reserve for strangers. “Ohmygod,” she said, “are you American?” She seemed starved for Americans. We ended up having dinner together and then drinks, and continued at my place, which was only across the street. It seemed she was incredibly homesick, and needed a hug to say the least. As the inevitable followed on from the hug, I experienced for the first and so far only time in my life how a woman literally wolfed down my dick on first sight. She seemed incredibly happy to see a circumcised one, and told me so, too. Apparently, she had a real problem with foreskins, and had given up on French men because of it. “I can’t stand them with those wrappers on, know what I mean…?” Hilarious. We met a few more times, but she moved back to Wisconsin soon.
The woman I ended up married to for ten years believed circumcision makes men more dependent sexually on women, and thus more likely to seek intercourse and cause pregnancy. This really turned her on, and she tended to point out really high circumcisions when we watched porn together, saying things like “there! I bet that always stays tight…” At spas, she’d be crotch watching, saying things like “I bet that guy is cut!” Part of this was clearly intended to play into my fetish, which she knew of and supported at every opportunity. She really knew how to get me going, and she was a naughty girl. Once she even made my tomcat come, don’t ask me how. As a UK nurse, she often said how she found it impossible to consider sex with an uncircumcised man, due to the exposure to them she had at work. To her, foreskins were something only hospital patients had, and a circumcised penis was what should await her at home. She was recklessly pro-circ, too, and there was no question that any boys we might have would be done, “properly”, as she would add, with a slight side blow to mine actually being a relatively low circumcision that gets skin bunching up against the glans when flaccid. Not that it was flaccid much with her. I have to say those were ten amazing years sexually.
After I got dumped (long story, but it wasn’t for being too loosely cut after all), various women in the vicinity who had been anticipating what was happening got in position to seize the opportunity. C was the quickest of them, and I was thrilled, because she was a beautiful, intelligent, very funny Australian girl who had a thing for tango music, powerful cars, wine, and all the other things I like, too. But alas, when things got interesting, she always drew back, “because there are some technical details on European men I can’t deal with,” she would say. “What if I don’t have those details?” I would ask, to which she’d respond “what if I don’t believe you?” And thus ended that. I wasn’t ready for platonic stuff at that stage of my life.
I had known her for decades, starting with our teenager years, when she was just another daughter of my parents’ colleagues whom I sometimes got to see. As time went by, she turned out to be the loveliest person, who as an added bonus also had absolutely angelic features and tendencies. Really the kind of person you want to be with. On summer holiday from my expat posting, we met up in the Alps, and finally got to act out our teenage fantasies, almost thirty years late. She was dumbfounded by my circumcised penis, because she had seen me in the nude often enough when we were much younger. “When did you get that done?” she asked, and was visibly shaken by the fact that the glans was permanently and fully exposed. Initially she tried to pull skin over the glans, perhaps thinking I simply hadn’t tried before. She could not get over it even when I told her that that was how circumcisions were done in North America, and that it was quite comfortable actually; and she continued to give me the most commiserating glances during our treks through the mountains, probably imagining me to undergo constant vexation from the glans rubbing against underwear. And she treated it very nicely in the evenings, I have to say. 😊
One of the perks of an expat job is that you sometimes get to bump into some of the more successful old high school sweethearts, and that they really appreciate seeing you. And so it was that I one day had dinner at a grand hotel in Shanghai with D, a girl who had once been in my class, and who was now jetting around the world as a product developer based in Florida. As we were chilling out in the jacuzzi in the spa area of the hotel after dinner, we soon both realized how attractive the other was, and quite naturally proceeded to her room to conclude the evening there. I had never known that she was Jewish, and she had not been aware that I actually got circumcised while we were class mates. We simply weren’t that close then. This time, we were, and it felt as if we really belonged together. She seemed very experienced in handling a circumcised penis, and how to make it feel good. The next morning, we parted on a light note. It was literally like ships passing in the night, that time, but in a most pleasant way.
One year later, another ex high-school classmate came to Shanghai in her capacity as a flight attendant. She, in turn, had been a close friend of my then-girlfriend S, and with her bubbly nature immediately enquired as to the state of things regarding the famously circumcised dick from way back when – “is it still circumcised, muahaha!?” It was a scary moment, even though you can normally speak German in a restaurant in Shanghai without a big chance of someone understanding it all too readily. Then our conversation turned toward the usual, and we had a perfectly normal dinner, as you do. She admitted in the taxi after dinner that she had been very impressed by me actually pulling through with that circumcision at the time, that she and some others had even made bets that I would chicken out, and that she knew exactly how it looked, because my girlfriend at the time had told her everything. She even knew how many stitches went around! I was blown away. Just one thing she still wondered about: How did I ever jerk off? And would I like to come up for a drink at the hotel? I declined politely, mumbling something about a meeting in the morning I had to prepare. I just couldn’t see myself going along, given that she had a family.
My new wife is a hygiene freak, and sees circumcision as a very handy trick to ensure a better life. Where she is from, legend has it that all westerners are circumcised, so she was never surprised to see mine.
Last edited by Cufflinks
on Mon Oct 09, 2017 12:00 am, edited 1 time in total.
Some people’s opinion one simply cannot change. Mine, for example.