I'm not someone who thinks dick is everything, except when it is. I want to see it. Touch it. Feel it squirt. Suck the head. Milk the shaft. And take it out to dinner. Because I'm romantic like that.
How exactly do you take dick out to dinner? I have no idea. The hell if I'm paying for dinner just to get dick. Except sometimes, dick is everything. It makes a guy's body make sense. It matches his face somehow. Or doesn't match his body at all because it's oversized or otherwise obscene and seemingly misplaced.
But there it is. Dick. Wanting attention. Wanting relief. Wanting contact.
Personally, I think most major sports should be played in clothes with see-through crotches. Basketball would give new meaning to the word bounce. Okay, I'll allow jockstraps. Transparent ones. And I'd like golf to be played in three layers of pants, all solidly opaque. When the percent of guys who play a professional sport veers around one (on a good day), I say forget it. My Google image search for nude male golf did not go well.
But enough about me. Let's talk about you. What do you think of me?
Because look at that guy with the big dickhead in his mouth. See that's focus. That's determination. That's sticktoitiveness. And if he does it right, it will sure stick to him.
No a dick won't make me fall in love with a guy. Unless his dick's a really good dancer and can have an interesting conversation and crack a few jokes (and my ass) with aplomb.
Dick matters though. Because dick hunger is a thing.