On the Mend


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.

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