The Canadian Foreskin Awareness Project (CAN-FAP) is Canada’s best-known and feistiest pro-foreskin advocacy group. CAN-FAP promotes foreskin education, appreciation and stimulation. can-fap.net
Years ago, I was invited to a cocktail party thrown by the musical director of the city opera. All the guys were dressed, I guess you might say, very “classy”. Our host was sitting at his grand piano, playing opera tunes and show tunes, etc., as we all sang along.
I began to notice guys, slowly and surreptitiously, leaving the group. It wasn’t to pee or for another drink; none of them returned. I knew something was up. I had to find out without being noticed. Just as the other guys did, I moved away from the group slowly, the went into the hall. I could hear laughing and lots of “Shhh!!!” from the kitchen.
As I entered the kitchen, a friend of mine who is a bit of an exhibitionist, was standing on the counter, classy black, satin- trimmed pants around his ankles as well as his tighty whitey Calvins. He had his big, uncut schlong in one hand and a bunch of cherries in the other and he was counting each cherry as he popped it out into the increasingly raucous bunch of men watching in admiration.
The host eventually came in, the crowd awkwardly silent. He looked around, then looked a my bud with the spandex foreskin, and said, ” How many?” It was a memorable party.
Years ago, I was invited to a cocktail party thrown by the musical director of the city opera. All the guys were dressed, I guess you might say, very “classy”. Our host was sitting at his grand piano, playing opera tunes and show tunes, etc., as we all sang along.
I began to notice guys, slowly and surreptitiously, leaving the group. It wasn’t to pee or for another drink; none of them returned. I knew something was up. I had to find out without being noticed. Just as the other guys did, I moved away from the group slowly, the went into the hall. I could hear laughing and lots of “Shhh!!!” from the kitchen.
As I entered the kitchen, a friend of mine who is a bit of an exhibitionist, was standing on the counter, classy black, satin- trimmed pants around his ankles as well as his tighty whitey Calvins. He had his big, uncut schlong in one hand and a bunch of cherries in the other and he was counting each cherry as he popped it out into the increasingly raucous bunch of men watching in admiration.
The host eventually came in, the crowd awkwardly silent. He looked around, then looked a my bud with the spandex foreskin, and said, ” How many?” It was a memorable party.