Portrait of a Penis as a Deadly Cobra

I hadn’t jacked-off in 12 days, some kind of World Record. Mostly it didn’t bother me, but other times–especially when good ass was in sight–my scrotum burned like glass in a blue flame. It could’ve been my imagination, but it also began to feel leaden, less willing to yo-yo in response to stimuli.

Finally the time came to come again. I summoned Kaylan Nicole like a genie from her hard drive bottle, cuing the scene. CC Fafafini, yet another hairless porn-dolphin, was ramming that vagina like his penis was a plunger working to unclog a toilet in a BAD Mexican restaurant. Such a beautiful vagina she had, the close-ups excellent.

With my penis heavy like a shotgun I figured it’d be over fast. Not so!

I got through Kaylan’s plowing twice before sighing with boredom. I debated switching to something else; my left hand clumsily clicked the mouse. Now it was Mack Wallass, he of the hooked nose and horn, working away on one Renee Emerald, one of those women who do only one or two films, then nothing. Sean Elephantay, the Black Stud, was also involved.

The scene, low-key as it was, did the trick, but there was no blast. In the 12 days of inactivity, my poor cobra had forgotten how to spit, leaving only a few weak coins and gurgles of man-yogurt.

I tried again, but the show was over. The Cosmoslick lubricant had actually turned to foam, making it look as if I’d tried to screw a Starbucks latte.

The next night I had no idea of the outcome, but my cock had the block on lock. This time the scene was Wallass with Maya Puissant, which never fails. In short order I was feeling much better despite earlier losing my wallet. A brilliant, steaming Rorshach of white wet music glorified a soon-to-be-trashed sock, testament to the power of happy testicles, counterbalancing an unhappy mind.

Such is the power.

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3 Responses to “Portrait of a Penis as a Deadly Cobra”

  1. Digital Howie Says:

    I jack off maybe once every 6-8 weeks. Seriously. I have no testosterone. I’ve had low testes juice forever. It’s why I can’t grow a full beard. It’s why my arms are skinny. It’s why I don’t give a fuck about nothing, especially women. I once fucked my soon-to-be second wife every day for two weeks and the bitch complained when I couldn’t get it up anymore. She was 19 and I was 34. She said, “No guy I’ve been with didn’t lose it or go soft.” Well, dear, I’m not the ordinary guy. I was screwed by nature, bad DNA, whatever. I just ain’t got what it takes to make it with women or with life. Yet I remain alive when I would rather be dead and buried, leaving behind this bullshit called living.

  2. meatlights39 Says:

    Maybe you need to get on some ‘roids, eat raw meat.

    Your poor wifey mayhaps bought into the myth of the ever-hard, long-haired, shirtless romance novel cover…

    Our fathers’ generation didn’t have this problem of women just lying there waiting for the next hard-on…after a romp the ladies were up and busy doing what woman do best: cooking and cleaning.

  3. Digital Howie Says:

    I just watched on YouTube a video of Britney Spears on a stretcher. Damn, missed my chance to get laid.

    I’m taking these bi-weekly, though I haven’t gotten one in months until my doctor’s visit today to get another 3 month script for Effexor XR, testosterone shots. They work some — I jack off more when I get them every two weeks but don’t do that, of course. But I want a woman to fuck not my hand. In fact, me and my right hand are in a spat right now over it being jealous of the left hand since it gets to watch and is always telling the right hand how much of a better job it could do.

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