May is National Masturbation Month. In support, I’m going to attempt to write something about masturbation and post it every day this month. They may be short. They may be messy. They will most certainly get post-edited. If you enjoy what I have to share (or if you really don’t) I invite you to add comments. Your participation helps me a lot. Join me in celebrating the most common sexual act of our species and add your thoughts to this offering.
Repeat after me: This is my penis. It is part of me. It grows from me and extends into me. This penis is beautiful. My penis is a source of my joy. I know my penis. I care for my penis. My penis motivates me and moves me. My penis feels good. My penis feels wonderful. The pleasure of my penis radiates into and all through my body. My penis teaches me focus. My penis teaches me self-possession. My penis belongs to me and I command it. I am in charge of my penis. My penis is a reflection of my confidence, my maleness, my physical and mental health. My penis leads me to pleasure. My penis leads me to love. I love my penis. I love my beautiful penis. I honor my penis and will never take it for granted. I promise to treat my penis well for as long as life allows me to be with it. I promise to take good care of my penis. I choose to share my penis, but my penis will always belong to me. I love my beautiful penis.
Reblogging this paean to my penis from spring of 2014. I hope you are moved to recite it out loud, to own it as your own. There is nothing more representative of our self-possession as men than to take full ownership of our own bodies.
August 22: I had the surgery to reattach my torn hamstring just in time. The doctor said he found it basically hanging by a thread, almost completely avulsed. Had that happened, my recovery could have taken a lot longer. I come to in the recovery room and immediately take my first two Percocet. By evening, I’ve added 5 mg of straight oxycodone to dull the pain. I will be in a hip brace for the next six weeks and I’m mentally braced as well in anticipation of that nuisance. I’ve not felt any sexual impulses since yesterday’s pre-op self-love session. I knew what I was in for and I was treating my penis and prostate with the care and attention to which I’ve committed. Now, in the wake of surgery, my penis may as well be in suspended animation.
August 25: I take my final Percocet with breakfast after three days of prudent titration and transition fully to ibuprofen alone. The pain is so much better but I haven’t taken a shit since the 21st. I still have zero libido.
August 26: Finally! I empty my bowels and feel immediate relief from days of growing discomfort. That afternoon, I start scrolling through tumblr and feeling my genitals begin stirring between my legs. It takes about a half an hour of lazy web browsing for my penis to swell into semi-erection. I’ve only touched it to piss for the past six days, I’m still not all that motivated and I prefer to be urged by my libido, not push the river.
August 27: I wake up with the happiest morning wood I can remember in years. My dick is just so happy to greet the morning after a good night of sleep with no pain. I indulge a brief sexting session with my favorite cub and suggest he drop by the next day to help me with my recovery, to freshen my water, rotate my ice packs and… lie next to me and masturbate for a couple of hours. I’m so delighted when he enthusiastically agrees and we set the following night as his shift.
August 28: I’ve had many terrific friends coming by for a few hours at a time to help me out while I’m pretty much quarantined in my bedroom. They’ve brought snacks and blessed coffee and helped me get cleaned up and fed, but Marty brings me something nobody else can: A strong reconnection to my penis, to my maleness, to he himself and the unique excitement I feel in his presence. He arrives shortly after 6pm, greets me with a smile and immediately starts stroking my leg, moving quickly to the boner tenting my pajama bottoms. He wastes no time freeing my hungry penis but he also does not rush me at all. My favorite cub is one of the few men in my life who truly understands edging and he hasn’t come here today just to get off or get me off. Marty and I edge each other slowly for almost three hours, me stuck on my back with my brace keeping me from sitting up or humping and thrusting too much with my hips. The restraint is exquisite. We’ve never spent this much time just bating and when we cum together, we both squirt hard, enthusiastic ropes of semen all over ourselves and each other simultaneously. We lay in the warm oxytocin glow with the cum soaking into our shirts, forearms and beards. I feel so spent and happy and satisfied.
August 29: Alone at home and still charged by Marty’s exquisite care, I spend two hours edging my very erect penis and experimenting with only stimulating small areas of the frenulum and the tiny divot under the corona of my dickhead. I’m insanely hard for the entire two hours without any lead up or break, just slowly edging my beautiful penis toward another inevitable, gratifying climax and feeling wonderful.
September 4: I’ve begun my PT, doing three rounds a day of tedious isometrics in my bed and getting around a little better on my crutches. I’ve left my penis alone for the past week, other than to piss and wash and absently stroke, once again waiting for it to let me know when it’s time to masturbate.
There are many indications that I’m on the mend and doing well, but none so clear to me as the rolling surges of libido that draw my mind and body into my center, into my crotch and into self love. I feel healthy and alive and very plugged into my manhood and my body, both inside and out.