While I am struggling to climb back into my chair (my stomach hurts from laughing), I might note that the pink penis that I bought some years back has done a simply superb job of doing what men cannot.
That said. What you address is what men can’t comprehend. We are always and forever seeking the sense of safety.
That’s fucking hard when someone is hard away fucking us, oblivious of who we are, what we need, what we want, or for that matter, if they’re pounding a plastic doll or a piece of beefsteak.
While I miss some aspects of sex, this part I don’t.
The sinking feeling- which is all too true- that in truth, the man doesn’t need us at all. He just needs a hole to fuck.
The rest of us (pardon the pun) HOLE-ly unnecessary.