Hello! My name’s Elmo – and I’m a big prick.No, no, not that kind of big prick. I really am a big prick. Okay, the proper term is Penis. And testicles. And scrotum.The difference with me is, I like to give pleasure. Much more pleasure than pain. Although, unfortunately, because of my nice size, I sometimes inflict pain when all I really try to do is give people happiness, ecstasy, and something to talk about later.  I was born attached to my host in December of 1946. Even though I have managed to become famous over the years, my host – we’ll call him Tom Phan – preferred to remain anonymous while letting me become well-known. Tom has always been proud that we were born together and that he was blessed that it was him I was assigned to. He has tried to let me be myself and to meet as many people as possible while he stayed in the background. He’s been something of a “stage father” – much like stage mothers have been with their children who went into acting. Okay, you probably want to know how a nice penis like me came to end up in a penis museum. It’s a long story, so let’s get the balls rolling… As Tom and I grew up together, we went through puberty and suddenly realized everyone was staring at me and my balls. At first, we assumed there was something wrong with us. But as we looked around while in public locker rooms and showers, we noticed that at the age of 13, I was already than a lot larger than the penises hanging off fully grown men! For some reason, God must have seen fit to make me and my testicles and scrotum grow almost overnight to become huge – especially for my young age. Tom and I quickly learned that it was fun getting lots of attention, and we got hooked on it. The kids we were growing up with were fascinated with me, and everyone wanted to see touch or feel me. They even liked to hold and squeeze my balls, which I liked even back then. Later, Tom met a young girl, named Nancy, who chased us and convinced Tom to start dating her. It didn’t take long for her to start each date by undoing Tom’s pants, take me out and spend the night holding and sucking on me. I convinced Tom that we needed to marry this girl. He proposed and we were soon married. Shortly after, I got our wife pregnant but she miscarried. The doctor said to wait a few months before trying again to get her pregnant. One evening, Tom put a condom on me just before sliding me inside her. Well… condoms were not designed for penises like me. I immediately shredded the condom and promptly shot my load up into her sweet spot. Of course, she got pregnant with our daughter. That turned out to be a very good thing.  But even after 22 years and two children, this woman still couldn’t take all of me inside her. I only meant to give her pleasure (she usually had several orgasms each time I went up inside her to visit), but if we weren’t very careful, I would stretch her too much and cause her pain. At any rate, our wife was very proud of me and liked to show me off to just about everybody she knew. I think she liked to impress them with what she could take, and she like to make them jealous, too. It was during the marriage to her that molds were made of me and my balls, which went on to make lifelike rubber dildos that were sold by the hundreds of thousands in adult bookstores around the world. Tom did a lot of nude modeling, and artists and photographers liked using us as the subjects of their creations. I even got to do several adult videos. I was even the topic of conversation at the local chamber of commerce Christmas party one year, and everyone adjourned to a large home so they could see and feel me for themselves. Tom was pretty self-conscious that time. All those small-town business owners knowing about my size and wanting to see me. One nice-looking young lady kept playing with my balls and scrotum with her toes. Some were intrigued by my tattoo, as well as my size. Did I already mention my tattoo? Okay, this first wife and Tom liked to spend their free time playing with me. I always responded by standing tall and giving out orgasms wherever possible. But at one point – I think it was after our daughter was born, but before I conceived our son – Tom and Nancy were playing with me one afternoon and they decided to tattoo an outline of a heart on my head. They knew that once aroused (which I almost always was back then), they could do almost anything to me, and I wouldn’t send pain signals to Tom. So, they tattooed an outline of a heart on my head. It took a while as the tattoo was rather large (there’s lots of real estate in my head), and they had fun doing it. Years later, Tom and Nancy split (she had to travel and see the world), I met a new lady named Leslie, and we all decided to add some color and detail to this heart. Tom had a friend who was opening a tattoo studio along with some other guys, and they all got together to design and work on my new tattoo. It didn’t happen over just one or two sessions. It took lots of individual sittings, and always the tattoo work was for free. Meanwhile, Tom met some other women. Some were girls from back in high school, who we never got around to “doing” then, but managed to later. Others were married women who wanted the experience. I’m not sure if it was Tom’s charm or mine, but somehow, the word got around, and we went an awfully long time where I was getting to know and please other men’s wives. They were always coming up to Tom, hitting on him and wanting to meet me. There was Sharon, and Kathy, there was another Kathy. There was Linda, and … you know, I can’t recall most of their names. They were blonde, brunettes, redheads. Even a very sweet Black lady named… hmmm, I can’t remember her name either. All were pretty and had nice bodies. Oh, yeah… there was another Sharon. She was married to a very understanding guy. Sharon liked to suck on me and play with my balls. She had a nice picture of me standing tall, which she put up on her refrigerator door with a magnet. Right there in her kitchen, in front of her husband and the rest of her family. Strange.  Oh, yeah, that reminds me of another story of photos in a home. There was an amateur photographer who was learning to do some serious photography. When he wasn’t working his regular job with the local phone company, he liked taking pictures. He took lots of good quality pictures of me and Tom. One time, we went to his home to visit, and there in his living room and down the hallway were framed photos of me and my balls. There was one photo of me halfway in a vagina. Tom and I thought that was a little unusual, in someone’s home in front of their family and friends. To each their own… So, how does a human penis end up in a penis museum?I’m glad you asked that.You see, I've always gotten attention, and Tom has always been willing to let me have it. We were both young when Tom realized that I am much too nice to ever let go to waste when he dies. Unlike other men’s penises and testicles, which are burned up or buried when the man dies, Tom and I knew that I am special. He knew instinctively that I needed to be spared from decay or destruction when he passed. So, he tried to make arrangements to have me cut off him and allowed to be the separate creature that I really am. But even though his family and friends assured him they would see to it when he eventually died, he just couldn’t picture anyone actually cutting the sex organs off a cold, dead corpse – especially the corpse of a best friend or relative. Besides, Tom knew that despite how much pleasure and pride I always gave him, he would really like to witness my removal from his body, and placement as a separate entity in a place where I can be shown with honor and dignity. And pride. A place where hundreds of thousands, if not millions of people can see me and my big balls, and get some enjoyment out of looking me over closely and perhaps having their photos taken with me. So here I am, Elmo The Penis. I am here for you to see, inspect and enjoy. Go ahead and look me over very closely if you like. I don’t mind. That’s what I’m here for. To be enjoyed. Please enjoy me.  |