It’s all about the Balls!

Oh, Balls!

Today is the 14 and you all know what that means, right? Tomorrow is Buddy Ball Check Day.

Tomorrow morning, while you are in the shower and your balls have gotten nice and warm, the sac is all loose and allowing your nuts to hang and swing, do your Testicular Self Exam (TSE). If you shower before going to bed, do your check tonight.

If you don’t know how to do a self exam, or if you’ve forgotten… Oh, hell, if you remember how to do it, but just want to see some guy get his balls fondled and then fondle his own, click the link to the video:

TSE

Testicular cancer doesn’t care if you’re black, white, green, or purple with fuschia stripes. Though most common in men between the ages of 15 and 45, ball cancer knows no age discrimination. In fact, a decade ago, the upper range used to be 35.

And, what the hell – if your cock gets hard while you’re fondling your man-berries, it’s a good excuse for jacking off!

Buddy Ball Check means you call, text, email, or use whatever means necessary to ensure your male family members and friends remember they need to check their balls. Be a man’s man – pass it on! (You never know – a buddy just might ask you come over and check his for him!)

Morning Wood (Lately)

Wow. Have you ever had one of those nights-days? Doctors have said that waking up with a hard-on is a good sign. It means your man-parts are in working order and your over-all health is good. While I won’t testify to my over-all health, my cock sure seems to be more than fine.

I really love waking up with my dick, hard as a tree branch, pressed between my abs and the mattress. I love the feel of it and I always want it to last as long as possible. Pushing it into the mattress and dragging my nuts along the sheet – the sensations are great!

 Rolling over and looking at the tent it makes in the sheet, getting up to take a leak, my boner points to the ceiling, I give my ballsac a little heft and scratch to separate it from my thighs (you ladies have asked “why do men always scratch their balls fist thing in the morning?” and now you know the truth of it) and that hand naturally wraps around my shaft to give it some strokes on the way to take my morning whizz. Standing in front of the toilet is when my cock will, generally speaking of course, wilt enough to allow me to piss.

Well, waking up the past few mornings has kinda followed the standard. But my pecker has been waking me up at 3:30 or so. It’s truly had a mind of its own: there’s been no subsiding as I strain to piss through it, (and ladies, now you should understand why we can’t seem to always hit the bowl! (no wonder I prefer to piss outside when I'm hard) it hasn’t wilted at all as I crawl back into bed and it kept me completely awake!

I haven’t had the opportunity to beat it into submission while lying there either. When the alarm has gone off, my pecker pointed me to the shower, stared at the walls and ceiling the entire time (got harder when I soaped, rinsed, and shaved it) and admired itself in the mirror afterward. I struggled to button it into my 501’s and walked around with a quite obvious boner bulge.

To get through the day, I had to just smile and pretend it was perfectly okay to walk around with a perpetual hard-on. It’s a good thing I wear black – the ever expanding wet spot of pre-cum doesn’t show as prominently.

It wasn’t until I returned home in mid-afternoon that I was able to un-cage the monster it had become. It couldn’t wait to spring out and up as soon as I unbuttoned those jeans. The resultant jack-off session has felt like I’d been edging for days. The mini-factories in my balls were swollen heavy with their burden of baby-makers. My cockhead was slick with pre-cum which spread rapidly and made my stiffy literally glide through my fist. Within five minutes the first blast erupted and splattered my cheek. Damn! it felt so good… The spasms, the throbs, the pulse through the shaft. The resultant hot ropes and pools of cum landing on my body. Still slowly stroking my cock, and milking it of every last drop, rubbing the head through the jizz, it didn’t subside for a good thirty minutes. I sighed in complete satisfaction. Morning wood – that lasted damn near all day! I’m lovin’ it!

Addicted to Dick / Public Boners

Well, after a few days gig for a much needed infusion to the cashflow… I caught a rerun of last week’s Dr Phil show. This guy is totally addicted to his dick. I mean, he is a slave to it. This poor guy was beating off 10 to 15 times a day. I don’t know about you all, but I think I can safely say my cock would be raw and muscles that anchor the root would ache. (If you don’t believe me, I’d say try it and see, but really men, pain in the perineum is something you don’t want to experience.)

It’s one thing to appreciate your pecker, to garner as much enjoyment out of it as possible; it’s completely another to lose job after job because you can’t keep your hands off it. I know some men get a thrill out of un-caging the monster and garnering attention – even if that attention is negative, perhaps hoping it is. But whacking off in the middle of your office when you should be getting work done is not a good thing; blatantly surfing porn while whacking off in front of your girlfriend’s father is not a good thing. Ignoring your two-year-old daughter while you get your nuts off can have serious consequences.

If you get an instant hard-on that won’t subside until you cum and it happens with the slightest erotic thought; if any sight turns into a sexual fantasy that morphs your cock into a steel rod that doesn’t go down until you blast a load, your dick is in total control.

Though we may not be able to control when mini-me pops up and wants attention, we cannot allow it to control and/or ruin our lives. That’s not a healthy relationship with your cock. We’re all about keeping our man-parts healthy, but overdoing won’t help the cause.

***

The Public Boners remains the most read post on this blog. My! I never knew so many people would be fascinated with the topic. As much as nudity is frowned upon in this country, it does my heart good to witness a guy who isn’t embarrassed when it happens.

I attend naked yoga classes once a week. It’s terrific, not just because (in my mind, anyway) everything is better naked but, because it’s easier to do the poses without clothing interfering. The nudity in class is very casual – sure you sneak the peek at the new dick that comes in – and there’s nothing sexual about it. There’s gay guys, straight guys, bi guys…it’s a real mix.

The guy across from me has been numerous times; he’s tall, in this late 30’s or so, average body (meaning he’s got a bit of spare tire), slightly balding and an average sized dick – when it’s soft anyway. We’re about ¾ of the way through class and we get on our feet for Warrior One and this guy’s warrior is already at half mast. It had grown a good several inches in length and was filling out nicely. There’s no way every man in the class did not see this (we form a semi-circle around our Yogi). It was a lovely sight to be sure, yet he did nothing to hide it and no one said a word.

I’ll admit that every once in a while my own dick starts to do a few poses of its own, but nobody comments on it. And that, my readers, is what being comfortable in your own skin, as a man, is about: no need to worry about your parts doing their physiological thing because it’s normal.

The Cockhead

I received this in an email today and thought it was funny enough to post. Though, if it were actually true, we could've saved all three countries money and just told them! LOL.

But, did you know: Anthropologists muse that the shape of the cockhead evolved [as it did] to be a means of "scooping out" the previously deposited semen in an effort to promote the success of that being currently deposited.

I know, I know... who gives a shit why it is the way it is -

we just want to enjoy playing with it!

And the awesome sensation in it when we blow that load.



To Fans of Straight Jock Talking

If you are a fan and/or follower of Scott's over at Straight Jock Talking: Scott has asked me (via email) to let you all know he's fine. As you know, he went on vacation with his family last week. When he returned he found his blog had been taken down.

He is currently in the process of trying to convince the powers that be to re-instate him. This is the second time blogger has shut him down.

So, he's fine - - he said he's just stuck in blogger purgatory right now.

Smacked by danthedanimal

Since we've all ribbed Scott for his (apparent) obsession, today's pics are for him and in his honor. Our thanks and appreciation to Dan Skinner for allowing us to post it! (You'll find more of Dan's stunning photography, as well as a link to his work, on the page tabbed at the top of the blog here.)

The Horny J/O

“I’m horny.” Well, I’m sure all you ladies out there have heard your man say that many times. And let me tell you, if you don’t accommodate him, he’s going to go out to the garage, or lock himself in the bathroom, go into his Mancave, or go anywhere to beat off. As a (gay) friend of ours told my wife one night, guys jerk off, “it’s a fact of life; get over yourself.” Unsatisfied horniness can really get quite painful for us. Our balls ache so bad all we can think about it getting off. The horny whack attack can strike pretty much at any time of the day or night, under all kinds of circumstances.

Such was the case for me on my return trip from the CBE seminar. As if spending an entire weekend giving and receiving erotic massage with a bunch of naked guys wasn’t enough… Driving long-distance, the constant vibrations of the road give me a raging hard-on. So, to dispel the pain of being caged, I freed my monster to breathe in the fresh air. Driving long-distance can also be pretty boring. So, to relieve the boredom the pants got pushed further down and, well…let the games begin, as it were.

‘Course I’d done the same thing on the drive there, but the worst thing I did was stop on the side of the road to take a leak. Had a few horn honks as folks drove by at 50mph, but that’s life on the road when ya gotta piss.

The difference now, on the way home, was my mind kept playing images of the weekend as my hands alternated pulling my pud. My heated cock kept getting cooled down by the pre-cum evaporating in the breeze of the open window. Kinda like the sensation when someone sucks you with an ice-cube in their mouth. It felt so awesome I began spreading it along my sac and that really felt good – like someone blowing gently on my balls. The harder my dick got the slower I began to drive. People were passing me up left and right. Wonder what they thought, especially the truckers – I knew those guys could probably see my arm pumping up and down on my pecker.

I managed to edge for more than two hours of the drive, but it finally overcame me. My nuts were snuggled up, the shaft was hot to the touch and the head had turned a dark purple-red. I knew I couldn’t keep stroking much longer without hitting the point of no return and going over the top. I had no towels or tissue with me and I sure didn’t want to walk into the house with my shirt splattered with jizz.

I stopped stroking, pulled to the side of the road, and hiked my pants up far enough to be able to walk. My cock was so hard and my balls ached so bad I knew they would boil over soon. I didn’t even bother to shut the car door. I sprinted to the side of the road, and my pants fell down around my knees as I pushed my hips forward, grabbed my cock, jacked it like there would be no tomorrow and the first shot of cum flew out. It arced up into the air and hit the ground about six feet away from me. I pounded my fist over my dick with a fury, blasting out spurt after spurt as cars and trucks whizzed by. I don’t know if there were any horn honks or not – I was too busy getting my nut. When the cum finally stopped flowing, I wiped my cock with my hand and flung the jizz to the ground (okay, I’ll admit it: yes, I licked the rest off my hand). I stuffed my overly sensitive semi-hard-on into my pants and got back into the car.

An hour later I needed to “piss like a racehorse” as the old saying goes and again found myself standing on the side of the road with my dick in my hand, cars and trucks racing by as I whizzed on the guardrail. My dick rose up and begged for attention again as I tried to shake the last drop off. I stroked out a quick one and drove the rest of the way home.

That’s what the horny jack-off is all about: A guy just getting off; to relieve the ache in his nuts, to relieve his hard-on.

CBE for Men = Celebrate the Cock

I attended a Body Electric “Celebrating the Body Erotic” seminar a few years ago. If you haven’t heard of them, surf on over to their website. It was one of the most erotic, sensual, and life-changing experiences ever. There's a video clip you can watch that explains the course (Matthew Simmon's is featured and was the instructor when I attended).

The seminar is about connecting to oneself, connecting to others, learning to be comfortable, accepting, and celebrating the erotic being that lives in all of us. Through the course of the weekend, they not only instruct you on learning to love the equipment you were born with, but how to enjoy it; to reach and maintain a heightened plateau of arousal for hours, while your whole body hums with erotic electricity; and how to experience full-body orgasm without ejaculation (which is a first step in becoming multi-orgasmic!). The first hours are spent in self-discovery and awareness, and learning to trust the other men attending. After lunch, we returned to the meeting room and we stripped one another’s clothes off. We were then instructed to deliberately look at all the other cocks around the circle. That exercise taught every man in the room that what hung between his legs was normal and nothing to be ashamed of, nothing he needed to hide. It was an instant sense of freedom for many.

Over the course of the next day and a half (always nude) we learned to communicate; we were taught how to give one another erotic massage, to listen and become aware of our own, as well as our partner’s feelings. Each massage started at the groin, worked its way to the outer extremities and then back to concentrate on the cock and balls.

We were taught techniques on stroking cock, massaging balls, and breathing; we learned to focus on the sensations and recognized a heightened awareness. We traded places as giver and receiver, so every man was able to achieve full-body orgasm.

During my final stint as a receiver of massage, as our instructor lead us to deliberately peaked sensation, I blasted a huge load. My massager’s hands and my torso were covered in cum. As far as I know I was the only guy to actually ejaculate (remember the goal was orgasm without ejaculation), but no one ridiculed me, nobody chastised me; the guy and instructor took towels and gently, lovingly cleaned me.

It was fabulous! I’d never felt so content, so at peace, in my entire life, or felt so comfortable in being a man; there was no reason to be ashamed of my cock, no shame in getting a hard-on, no shame in enjoying it, celebrating it and cumming. I no longer felt alone; I felt I truly belonged to a brotherhood of man; I felt accepted and honored.
I can honestly state, it changed my life. I became happier, more honest and open, and as a result (I think, anyway) a better man.