"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.
