I Love My Penis

Getting back into the habit of regular blogging has been harder than I was expecting. Not just in terms of writing regularly, but also in my reading of other blogs as well. I've managed to keep up with a few, but I confess that I'm out of touch with most of you guys. But for now, I'm happy to report that my closest friend and I are back on speaking terms. Better than that, we're back to the old comfort level; we've re-discovered the passion in our relationship.

Man, you really don't appreciate simple pleasures like masturbation until something interferes with them. Of all the after-effects I was expecting from the surgery I had last month, being off my libido for so long wasn't one of them. I expected it would be absent for a while; after all, this was surgery in a very sensitive area, and even with painkillers the pain was going to be a constant companion for a while.

But even once the pain had packed up and left, the libido wasn't ready to end the vacation and come home. Believe me, I tried. The mental component was there-- I still had the emotional urge for sex. But as the saying goes, the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak. Weak? Not even interested in trying. Err, I was interested, but the parts not directly adjacent to the brain were less so.

So the first time I was able to bring myself off, about 3 weeks after the surgery, was almost as amazing as my very first time. Even still, it was another week before I did it again. After that, the old me started to return. For a few nights, I was back to my 1-2 per-day regular relaxation techniques. It still ebbs and flows, though. As I write this, I think it's been nearly a week since I last took things into hand. I plan to remedy that as soon as I finish, though.

A wonderful highlight came about a week and a half ago. A former lover called up and wanted to, well, just drop by and give me head. I actually had to think about it for a bit, because I was on an ebb rather than a flow. I was seriously worried that I wouldn't be able to get things up for her, let alone keep them up for the whole event. But I had nothing to worry about, turns out. Not only was I up for it physically, she had apparently picked up a few new tricks since we'd last been together. Or maybe it was the long time since I'd been with someone, combined with the yearning to put the flatline-libido period behind me. Probably a combination of the two. But she rang my bell something wonderful.

Oh, it was so nice. As the title-line reads, I truly love my cock. Not just because of our physical closeness, but because of all the lovely memories it's brought me. Sometimes, on weekend mornings, I allow myself an hour or more to play with myself. I'll re-read some favorite erotica, perhaps, or just close my eyes and let my imagination set things up. Sometimes, I lay a towel under my hips so I can use lube without worrying about the bed-sheets. Most of the time, I don't need it. These morning sessions are meant to be slow, gentle, and deliberate. If the phone rings, I don't answer it. When I use my hands, I don't just rub up and down. I caress from my inner thighs to my nipples. (I don't know why men have nipples, but as long as they're there I'm going to enjoy them.) I'll lightly scratch my fingernails along the most sensitive areas. It may be 10-15 minutes before I even touch my cock. But when I do, again I use both hands and go slowly, lovingly, caressing every inch from base to tip. If I'm not using lube, I'll sometime wet my fingertips with saliva and use that to slicken things up. In my head, that's always sexier than lube. And in my head, I'm reliving favorite moments with favorite people. My first threesome, maybe. Or the time in Seattle that I and my partner made love 6 times in less than 12 hours (I was a younger man then). Depending on how long I wish to draw it out, I might bring myself to the edge and back off several times. But eventually, it comes down to the moment when I know I can't turn back. When I decide I'm ready, and let all the tension spill over and burst. I probably actually cry out at this point; I'm usually not paying attention to that at the time. I left every pulse run its course, every jet lay where it falls. Then I drop my hands away, and just relax. Let my breathing slowly return to normal. Let the warm feeling of exhaustion sweep over me. I can feel my own fluids starting to cool on my skin, and sometimes I play with them a little.

Eventually, I get up and shower. And not surprisingly, those days are usually the ones when I'm in my better moods.

I'm glad our relationship is strong again.

Dausa