HER PENIS

She doesn’t have a willy.
That mass of skin and flesh and nerves and veins and muscles
is NOT her.
Don’t insult her!
Have you seen it?
The playful organ
on the live web stream
was just a simulation.
Somebody’s body. Who cares?
But that wasn’t her willy.
No, not her.

She’s been called a philanderer,
a ladies’ boy,
a hi-tech Casanova.
Heartless seducer,
resourceful lad,
a playboy’s mind in a businessman’s business,
she’s persuasive, dynamic, forceful.
Hundreds of women have climaxed
by virtue of her manly skills.
But she doesn’t have a willy.
Don’t get her wrong.

Some women crave for her hairy chest
and gay men find her irresistible.
They’re all enticed by her tempting accounts
of her massive member,
her reported vigour and strength,
her undeniable flair for foreplay.
Hundreds of women (and men)
have come
by virtue of her typing skills.
Her speech is full of bluff and laddish tricks.
That man is her.

But she doesn’t have a willy.
That mass of cloth and wires and springs and foam and rubber
is NOT her.
Don’t insult her!
She’s no gadget.
She is the mind in control,
incisive, analytic, clear head, purposeful spirit.
On top.
She wears the trousers,
which do not hide a willy,
by the way.

Hers was a timely bargain
in the sales
of e-commerce:
“a man without a penis”.
That is her.
She wouldn’t have a silly
capricious, stubborn, childish, tacky
willy.
Why would she want it?
Tell me.
She’s no cunt!