Monday, December 27, 2010

On Wood

 and the Big Whack Attack

Guys get boners all their lives and as teenagers every one of us has probably suffered the Big Whack Attack. We get hard-ons regularly when we sleep, during the day, and morning wood is a given. As I mentioned earlier, it starts in the womb and never ends. But it’s never more of a problem than when we’ve hit puberty. From the time those first few little hairs start sprouting around our growing groins until we’re in our early twenties, our dicks just don’t seem to want to do anything but get hard. They’ll pop up at the strangest times without the slightest provocation: at the urinal to take a leak or shaking off that last drop, in the showers after gym class (that was always the worst!), walking from class to class, sitting in Algebra for Christ sake! I think mine was hard twenty-three hours and fifty-five minutes a day.

If I didn’t get a chance to pound one out in a restroom stall, I’d get home from school and just have to whack off. Many a day my brother came home and found me stroking my rod so fast I could spark a fire with the friction. I swear, I could blow ten loads a day and still pop bone in a flash.

When I started to date I’d whack one before I left and I’d still get a raging hard-on during the evening. I’d get home, strip, drop to the bed and make myself cum twice before I could get to sleep. When I met the girl I eventually married, we’d fuck, or she’d give me a hand job, and she was amazed at how soon I was hard and urging her for another round. A lot of the time, I’d shoot my load and my dick wouldn’t even go down; it continued to stand there and twitch begging for more. Then I’d go home and stroke until I spewed again! We’re just horny mother-fuckers and, at this stage of life, our existence seems to be one whack attack after another.

We simply can’t help it. Our balls start to feel heavy and there’s a slight ache to them. The head of our dicks get really sensitive. Your underwear rubs against it when you move and makes it twitch. With each twitch, it gets a little harder. Before you know it, you’ve got a full-on boner, straining against your pants. Nagging. Nagging. Begging for attention. The dull ache in the balls increases. They want – no, they need – release. You’re not even cognizant of your hand drifting down to your crotch to squeeze. But when you do, an electric shock runs through your shaft right down into your balls. You get even harder. It’s snaked its way down one pant leg which is more than uncomfortable, it actually hurts. You try to adjust; to push it around, pull it up against your abdomen. The head of it, now extremely sensitive, gets caught against the waistband of your shorts and the whole shaft throbs. A tiny spurt of pre-cum shoots a slick pool against your skin. The head of your cock slips and slides in it, making it drool even more. Now you’ve got such a raging rod of steel, you can’t think of anything but relieving the unrelenting ache in your nuts.

(Sorry ladies, if you’re reading this but,) Ignoring that ache is not an option. That results in a severe case of what’s called Blue Balls or Lover’s Nuts. The blood and fluid which builds up in and around the testicles, actually makes them take on a dark-bluish hue. They get very heavy, and strain and stretch the scrotum which turns an ugly shade of bluish-red. Not only does it hurt like hell, it’s not healthy. Backed up fluids can cause a myriad of problems; infections of the testes, seminal vesicles and prostate. Balls can swell up to huge proportions if infected and are extremely painful. Infected seminal vesicles become inflamed and cause a sharp ache in the lower abdomen. Left unattended, a prostate infection can become so severe as to become blocked – and actually prevent a guy from being able to cum.

I had the thorough, humiliating displeasure of such an event. In such pain I couldn’t stand it anymore I made an appointment with an urologist. I told him my balls ached, but I couldn’t cum. He did the usual ball exam then had me bend me over the table to examine my prostate. He rolled over on his stool behind me. First one finger poked around, then two fingers, then three pressed and kneaded. Much to my consternation, I got a hard-on. I figured I’d pull my pants up before I turned around to face him. Ha! He kneaded and pressed for almost five minutes and my dick just kept getting harder and harder. He suddenly withdrew his fingers, grabbed my arm pulling me into a standing position, and spun me around to face him with my boner staring him right in the face. He wrapped a hand around it and milked along the shaft. After three or four strokes, my cock exploded in long, sickly smelling, yellow ropes. He continued to milk-stroke until the cum slowed to a drool. His white lab coat was splattered with it, it dripped down his neck, and there were little pools of cum all over the floor between us.

My face was hot from embarrassment. He nonchalantly stood, removed his coat, got a fist full of paper towels and handed me some as he wiped his neck. I wiped at my still dripping dick and he cleaned the floor. “Sorry about that. But it had to be done. Your prostate was completely blocked. You’ve got a severe prostate infection.” He handed me a prescription for antibiotics. “Take one a day for 14 days. Don’t miss any – you take them until they’re gone.” “Okay. Thanks.” “How often in a week do you and your wife have sex?” I shrugged, “Um, maybe once.” “Do you masturbate to supplement that?” “Sometimes.” He shook his head in disgust, “You need to cum more often than that. You should jack off at least twice during the week. Okay?” I stammered an okay – I mean, I wasn’t used to hearing a doctor say “cum” or tell me to “jack off.” “I don’t want to see you back here with this problem again. There’s no excuse for it.” He walked out of the room as I struggled to stuff my semi-hard cock back into my pants.

Lesson learned. I’m proud to say, I was able to tell my regular physician on the follow-up visit, I definitely wouldn’t be ignoring the signs anymore. His response? “Good. If you get horny, take care of it. It’s your body telling you what it needs. Don’t ever let it get that bad again.” Sir, yes sir! Those are orders I can follow. In fact, those are orders I will be happy to follow.

Now, whenever I start to get that heavy feeling in my nuts and they’re hanging real low, I make sure I find some time to give myself a treat. Afterwards, an incredible lightness of being washes over me. My rigid dick softens and my nuts, dropping back down in the sac, relieved of the pressure, feel light again; empty.


Anonymous said...

Where is this doctor? I've whacked off hopeing this kind of treatment before, but no luck.

I've been reading your posts. Great blog!

Anonymous said...

So did the urologist bill you extra for that delightful session? Or did he just charge you for an "office visit"? :)