Wounded [Willy] Warriors

Men are [typically] defined by three things. Our profession (jobs), our hobbies, and our dicks. And our dicks are many times at the front of that list, rather than at the back of the line. It’s the defining anatomical attribute which makes us “male.”

I read – I know, I read a lot, so sue me – an article in my local paper recently and could instantly relate to it. Then my latest issue of Men’s Health showed up in the mail the other day. A much more in-depth story on the same issue: Our men returning from the war in the Middle East without a nut, or without any balls, and sometimes without a cock.

The MH article points out that each war has its signature wound and leaves a mark on the generation that fights it. In Afghanistan, the war is maiming and emasculating men at a frightful pace. In reading this article, I didn’t just want to cringe and grab my crotch, I wanted to cry.

What’s a functioning willy worth? According to Uncle Sam: Nothing. What’s one – or both – of your balls worth? Again, according to Uncle Sam, nothing. Outrageous, isn’t it?

If a soldier loses a thumb, he gets compensated $50,000. He loses an eye, $50,000. Lose the lips, $75,000. Get their nuts and pecker blown off, “Sorry, dude.”

The medics in the field report that when soldiers are wounded below the waist, the first thing they ask about is their genitals. “Are my balls still there?” “How does my dick look?” One marine even went so far as to tell the captain of the medical corps that showed up to medivac him, “If you can’t save my cock, let me die.” (‘Course the newspaper printed ‘expletive’ instead of whatever word the guy actually used.) That’s a pretty strong statement to make and pretty much says it all. These guys come back and would rather die than go through a life without their manhood, or without the ability to have a family. Yes, ladies, that’s how important our stiff staffs and man-berries are to us.

And it’s not just because of the pleasure we derive from playing with them, or getting laid, getting our rocks off. Many of these guys, of course, worry about the reaction their wives, or girlfriends, will have. Will she stay? Will she leave me for a ‘whole’ man? Even with a fake hard-on, will I be able to satisfy her?

Doctors have developed a way to “recreate” the penis and with implants they can stand up so at least they have the ability to [perhaps] sexually satisfy their partners. The caveat is there’s no sensation and therefore, of course, the guys don’t experience orgasm or cum. And we’ve had ball implants for several decades, but these guys will certainly never father a child.

One sperm bank in California has been offering discounted services to military guys who receive orders for the war zone. Maybe Uncle Sam should consider picking up the cost for all our men in uniform to go whack off into a bottle until they arrive safely back home. It wouldn’t make up for a dismembered member, but at least it would ensure a future family should he want one.

Can we live without our genitals? Of course. Is there any quality of life without them? Even in such a mundane task as taking a leak? Or the pleasure of at least jacking off? That’s a personal call. Only the man who has lost his nuts or his pecker can determine if life without them is worth living.

I don’t know if the government’s attaching a dollar value to our most important attachment(s) is necessarily the answer. But I certainly hope these men are getting every option out there made available to them. I hope the military and civilian psychologists and psychiatrists are trained to understand the importance of these things to a man’s everyday well-being. Because as any guy will tell you, without them we aren’t men.

Extended Ball Check



OK - Listen up, guys!

In Friday’s Ball Check post I used a photo of a guy stretched out on the bed, cupping his balls with one hand. The other hand is giving his left tit a gentle squeeze. And that made me think about a topic I’ve never covered before.

Beside the fact that men’s pecs and nipples are as sensitive as those on you ladies out there and we can enjoy ours – you did know that, guys; you did, didn’t you?? – there is something else we have in common with the ‘fairer sex.’ Breast cancer.

Yes, indeed, men! We are subject to the disease as well. The rash of events and advertising and shit that is going on right now (well, seemingly, never stops) about bringing awareness (and raising money for research) to breast cancer made me start doing some research of my own.

Did you know that more than 1200 men (in the U.S. alone) are diagnosed and over 400 die each year from breast cancer? Shocking, ain’t it?

The reason that many die is because, just as we put off getting our nuts and peckers checked when something is wrong, they don’t seek medical attention soon enough.

Even more shocking is a report I discovered on MSNBC from back in early August. Men have been denied coverage for treatment of the disease by their insurance companies, by Medicaid and Medicare, because…wait for it…wait for it…they’re men!

This just goes to show you how biased, bigoted, and ignorant we all are about the male body.

So, from now on, guys, when I post the reminders about Buddy Ball Check Day, I’m including a reminder to check your pecs as well. Do a Breast Self Exam. Search for lumps or hard spots – just as you do for your nuts. You might enlist the help of a female friend or relative who’s familiar with the procedure to do the exam for you. If your tits ever feel sore – not from bench presses or working out, or from manual labor – if they begin to leak, do a self exam, it could be a sign of male breast cancer. If anything feels out of sorts: Call your doctor ASAP.

 Even if it's whilst playing your favorite tune on your favorite organ, take a tip from this guy:

Give the old pecs a decent squeeze!

But even though this is a few days past Buddy Ball Check, consider this your October reminder. Next month, check your tits before you move on down to those balls. I’ll encourage you to make a game out of it and enjoy yourself along the way if that’s what it takes to get you to do it.

Blog Log

While I was going through the stats of my blog page, I discovered SteveXS over at All Natural and More had been sending a lot of traffic my way. (Thanks, Steve!) So, I took the time to explore his blog and just had to share it with you. In addition to posting some really entertaining pics for your whack-off enjoyment, he'll at times post some quite interesting comments and stuff.

I've added his blog in the side bar here ------->

Drop on by, enjoy, and give him a tip 'o your hat!

Ah, Nuts!!

Since tomorrow is the fifteenth of the month and I don’t post on weekends, this is your reminder, guys!

Do that ball check. Then call, text, email, instant message, or Facebook the reminder to all the guys you know and care about to do the same. If you’ve got some cam bate-buds, log onto Skype (or whatever cam forum you use) and start the mutual jack fest by doing a ball check for each other. If you’ve got a live and in-person jack-off buddy, it’s a good place to begin. Since it’s a weekend, maybe your local Jack Off Group has a meeting scheduled. Tell the hosts you’d like to have all the guys get things rolling with a group ball check.

If you feel any odd lumps, or spots that feel harder than normal, call your doctor (or, if it’s a buddy ball check, tell your bud to call his doctor) and make an appointment. Don’t delay – The Boys are important and the life you save could be your own!

Back From Lunch

Well, I’m back and rested up from a long, long flight home. Delay’s, delays, delays. It was a nice trip. Got to see some family members I hadn’t seen in quite a few years and a family member’s member I haven’t seen in a few decades.

Yep, that teenage jack-off bud, commonly known as my older brother. Because so many folks had made the trek for my dad’s birthday, my brother and I were camped out in my sister’s living room on a couple of air mattresses. We’ve never been shy in front of each other – not since the night, when we were kids, I flipped on the light to see him emptying his man-berries all over himself. The next day he began my education in the enjoyment of cock; mine as well as others.

Anyway, the first night there, with my sister already in bed we started shedding our clothes for bed. I, of course, stripped down to bare skin. He on the other hand stopped at his briefs. Surprised, I had to ask when he’d begun wearing anything to sleep in. And, of course, my lecture started.

I had hoped I’d get a chance to see that monster cock of his standing at full attention in all its 10-inch glory. Sadly, since his prostate surgery, he can’t get a hard-on; not even a slight chub. So I had to eat my words and apologize. There would be no revisiting of our teenage mutual cock-stroking.

‘Course, I didn’t let that stop me. Even when I’m visiting friends or relatives I do not, or cannot, stop myself from whacking off. Especially on a trip this long. I went for it. Furtively at first. I went about it as slowly and quietly as I could. The next day, when chance had us sitting by the pool alone, he told me he knew I’d jacked off the night before and I didn’t have to worry about hiding it from him. I told him I felt bad he wouldn’t be able to join in. He told me he could still empty his balls when they got really achy. It’s not easy and takes him a long time. His cock will “sort of” get stiff and he’s got to squeeze the base of the shaft with one hand to retain any semblance of a hard-on, while he strokes with the other. And when he unloads his nuts (which are huge, by the way) it’s pretty much just a small dribble of jizz. I suggested he get a pump and some cock rings. He said his sex therapist told him to get them and actually showed him how to use them, but his wife didn’t like the idea… The poor guy. He’s never been able to make her understand how important it is for men to maintain the ability – by almost any means – to blow a load. Makes me appreciate my own wife that much more.

That night, and whenever my pecker popped its head up during the rest of the trip, I went for it. He’d prop himself up on an elbow to watch. I’d blast my load, slowly stroke my wilting willy and massage my nuts for a few minutes, then clean up and we’d lie down and go to sleep.

The only other disappointment of the trip was not finding the opportunity to hit the beach and skinny-dip in the warm waters of the Gulf. But, c’est la vie. It was a good trip overall and I practiced what I preach to you all: Stroke that stiffy and get those hands sticky.

Promises Kept

As promised, here's a little bit of eye candy to keep you satisfied in my absence. Some of these may have been courtesy of Corey's Dark Corner, but I'll be dipped if I can remember which ones. So, I'll just thank her for any contributions which may be included below. Thanks CoreyJo! To see more of her luscious beauties, hit the link to her blog in the sidebar ------>