My Blog

you.

yes homo erectus, you. too often a bench press you do.

tumescenting isnt a vital sign. nor a strobe light in perpetual surround. wang-gorged to a woman. pick the only one. no more to be sown, especially to a man. and never on public's mind. too much a noise this roaring a tiger, heard from his impound.

not a switch, i know. power sword never too easily ignored. but neither a rebellion this james dean you can fold.

mind over matter they say. so think harder and not a boner. and ruminate less with the foilage at bay. practice you had, early on campus grounds. no salute for the flaccid junk. even with dingalings on parade come shower time.

other firsts you had when the marital knot was still a future grab. on one, she takes you in this QC land, where a rub and a stroke is order at hand.

my gawd! hormones in astray. as the wet area, onsen-style in display. a thick cover and a lot of cold water. to douse a growing gun still lodged in this holster. and the massage, no less became a fruitless struggle. the attendant asked, a dick or a slit? silly question or so you thought. you looked down and assured it was a pecker in his way. and so one came along, rubbing oil, skin pushed onto yours. unhappy thoughts you pictured to stunt the growth, as he might mind you were in for his schlong all along.

so keep it private. or restrained. excalibur stuck firmly in stone. gray skull the closet only he-man knows. keep it inside, only on one's and missis' dutiful hands.