Wishing on a Blue Star (31 page)

“Please,” he begged me, “put your hands everywhere. Touch me.”

When I bent over him, bit down into his shoulder, he shuddered under me.

“I can’t get close enough to you. I feel like I’m going to float away.”

But as the hours rolled by and I rode out the throbbing, pounding need with him, I anchored him to me and to the life I still had, and the one we still shared.

When he was spent and panting in my arms, fighting sleep, his eyes fluttering to stay open, I began stroking his hair.

“It’s okay, baby, go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You won’t, I promise. We’ve got plans to make, and my family to take care of. It’s gonna be a busy week. You need to go to sleep.”

“You always worry about everybody else instead of yourself.”

“I think that’s how it’s supposed to be. You take care of the people you love. You just do. It works for me. I think I’ve done okay,” I said, lifting my bicep so he rolled sideways into my waiting arms.

“You’ve done great,” he whispered, wrapping around me as I tucked the blankets up around him.

As I notched his head under my chin, I had to smile. I certainly had.

Stupid Human Sex Tricks

Another post from Patric to Ethan Day’s Yahoo Group – Part II

First off, thank you all for your participation.  I wish to hell I had the steam to thank you individually, or even be sure I got all the names without forgetting anyone, but my head is deluged with chemicals, which is a piss poor excuse, but a fact nevertheless.  :)

I promise I will answer when I can with what I can, but for now a general shout of gratitude will have to serve.

For those who asked, and because I am right pleased with them, here are my copies of the Prostate and Sounding Stories.  Funny how they seem to have taken on such mythic proportions.  :)

________________________________________________________

Tap, tap, tap...

“Ladies...  If I may draw your attention to the screen behind me.  As most of you have surmised, this is a penis.”

The speaker looks at his assembled audience and sees a few ladies who seem just a bit green around the edges.  “If you arent sure why you are here, or heaven forbid, havent seen one of these things, may I suggest you re-enroll for basic anatomy?”
 
He waits patiently for the small flurry of giggles to subside, followed by three of his would-be students all but running for the exit to make their escape.

“Now, I assume I have everyone elses attention?  My name is Michael.  I’ve been an RN for the last six years, and this class is an adjunct to Sexual Behaviors 201.  Also known as ‘Stupid Human Sex Tricks’.”
 
Michael holds up a hand to forestall the already burgeoning hue and cry.  “No.  Dont bother.  I am neither condemning nor condoning the practice we’ll discuss today.  I simply repeat what some students say.”
 
He taps his keyboard and the image, several times life size, changes to show the same member, now fully erect, and supported by it’s presumed owner.

“Ladies, meet Terry,” he says, and waits for the inevitable sighs to subside.

“Oh mah gawd, he’s gorgeous!”

Laughter greets this sally, and Michael grins.  “Yes he is.  Arent you baby?”

The man, dark haired and dashing, steps out from behind a partition wearing a robe, and a great big smile.  “Ladies. meet my husband.”

Both men smile and wait for the groans to subside.

“Ah don’ care!  He’s still gorgeous!”
 
The southern accented speaker, whose name probably isnt Sally, says fervently.

“Yes, well,” Michael says, and steps from the podium to address a table.  The image behind the podium switches to view the contents of the table.  “Lets get started, shall we?  Today’s subject is sounding.”

Terry moves to stand in front of the table.

“Sounding was originally a medical practice used to aid chronic sufferers of syphills and other STDs, primarily as a means to enlarge or in some cases debride scar tissue within the urethra. As you can see, there were a variety of instruments used to perform the task.”

A scatter of giggles catches Michael’s attention, and he looks up to see Terry ‘hand waving’ like a greek Vanna white at the various instruments on display.  He scowls and Terry subsides, his eyes rolling skyward.

“We wont concern ourselves with the various names, but as you can see, the shapes suggest probable usage.”
 
Michael selects a thin rod with a small tapered bulb on the end and holds it up to the camera.  “A rosebud for short term enlargement as the instrument passes through the urethra.”
 
He sets it aside and picks up a long metal rod curved at one end.  “Van Buren,” he says. “This one is designed to reach all the way to to the bladder.”

“Wait, Michael.  Why would any guy want to do that in the first place?”
 
A woman wearing a tag which proclaims her to be Alyce asks.

Michael smiles.  “First off, dont be mistaken that these things are only used on guys.”
 
He picks up a shorter rod, slightly bent, and holds it up.  “A Hegar, designed for uterine applications.  As to why, well, why do you masturbate?”

Another woman, Jo by name, calls out.  “Because it feels good, baby, and most guys are lousy at making me scream!”

Michael smiles.  “There you go.  It feels good.  Exploring some of those ways we go about making ourselves feel good is why this class exists.”
 
He addressed the audience in general.  “How many of you know what a catheter is?”

Most of the audience raises their hands.

“Okay, how many of you have been catheterized?”

Many hands fall back into laps.

“Who werent giving birth...”

Only three hands remain.  Michael points to a young man with his hand raised.  “Why?”

The young man grins. “I like it.”

Michael laughs.  “Never mind,” he says.  “You’ll be fine.”
 
To the two women who still have their hands raised, he says, “What you are about to see will be something like a male version of what you experienced.  I promise, it wont feel as uncomfortable as it may look.”

The two women nod and Michael turns to Terry.  “Ready?”

Terry grins and drops his robe.  “Anytime you are, my lovely boy,” he says coyly.

Michael exaggerates his wince for the benefit of his audience, who laughs as expected.  He dons a pair of rubber gloves, and picks up a syringe package.  He peels the sterile paper back and extracts the syringe.  “No, no needles for this stuff,” he says, knowing more than one member of his audience is already cringing.

Michael pops open a fresh tube of KY and deftly sucks several CCs into the syringe.  “Fresh tube of water based lube, not the jelly kind,” he says and approaches Terry who is already holding his penis pointing upward, foreskin retracted.  Michael swabs the head of Terry’s dick, and a ways down the shaft, with a cotton ball dipped in betadine solution, then inserts the tip of the syringe into Terry’s slit.  He depresses the plunger and every eye in the audience rivets on the oversized view screen, abhorred and fascinated as they can see the lubricant fill the urethra at the underside of Terry’s penis.

Michael smooths the liquid further down toward the base of Terry’s dick and sets the syringe aside in favor of an unopened alcohol swipe.  He chooses one of the Hagar sounds and deftly sterilizes it.

“We want to make sure the alcohol evaporates completely before we play.”

“Is it play?  Doesnt it hurt?”

Michael scans his audience as he waves the sound, air drying it.  “I suppose you should ask Terry that.”

“Anything we do to a living body has the potential for pain,” Terry says.  “Just as there is potential for pleasure.  The entire body is a sensory organ, after all, and frankly, my dick is about as sensory as it gets.  Lots of potential for pleasure there.”

Women laugh, and the young man who likes catheters actually hoots.

Michael catches Terry’s attention and sets the end of the sound to the tip of Terry’s dick, which is already swelling with anticipation.  The camera faithfully captures the moment the sound enters the slit, and Michael waits for the gasps as the device slides easily inside.  About half way in, he lets go and stands back, fascinated as ever by how the heavy, highly polished metal slips in, caught by gravity until the upright bend of Terry’s penis halts its progress.

“Holy shit!  Where did it go?”

Another man’s voice, and Michael doesnt need to see to know it’s not Cath-Boy.

“The sound stops at the point where the urethra makes too sharp a bend for further travel, of course.  Terry?”

Terry points his erection downward, and in a moment the sound begins to slide out of his dick.  He tips it up again, and the metal rod snuggles back into its resting position.

“Remember, the Hager was designed for the much shorter uterine travel.  Longer sounds like the Van Buren take the greater length into account.  Because of the turns, and the prostate which we’ve discussed in an earlier class, there is a fair bit of manipulation involved in placing one.  Van Buren sounds were designed to lock into place within the bladder* and remain for a time, allowing the stretched urethra time to adjust, and hopefully remain open.”

Terry lets the sound slip from his dick, and anyone watching can clearly see the activity holds some kind of pleasure, judging by the look on his face.  Michael sterilizes one of the long, curved rods and lubricates it.  The audience watches, fascinated as more and more of the metal disappears into the man’s body.  Michael lifts and lowers Terry’s partially flaccid dick, working the curved end through the delicate channel until Terry touches his hand.

“Terry tells me we’re almost there.  Remember the prostate is a valve, and we have to encourage it to let us pass.”
 
He pushes the rod, so slowly, watching Terry’s face for discomfort.  After a moment, he feels the end of the rod win through and he deftly rotates the flat end of the sound and pushes down at the same time.

“Bulls eye.”
 
A few drops of urine drip off the end of the sound to be collected by a towel placed on the floor.

“Take note, ladies.  If Terry were a patient lying quietly in a bed, the sound could remain for any length of time without danger of falling out and doing damage on the way.”
 
Michael give an experimental tug and it is obvious the device is locked firmly into place.  “The weight of the sound keeps it from inadvertently rotating out.”

“How does it feel, Terry?”
 
Cath-Boy pipes up and Terry grins.  Indescribable.  First, there is a something sticking out of my dick, which is just plain exciting.  Then there is the weight.  It pulls on things and feels different from anything I’ve experienced before I started sounding.  And last, my husband put it there.”

Michael blushes furiously, but his smile is all for Terry.

“Yes, well.  The point is, we as humans are forever looking for new and exciting.  Sounding, done properly, can stimulate the nerve endings from the inside out and sometimes produce an orgasm.  As Terry said, the weight provides a pleasing sensation, and like all new things, novelty is a factor.  Some men find stretching with increasingly larger sounds, over time, to be pleasurable.  Some men find their orgasms are more intense with a sound inserted, presumably because of the pressure of the sperm trying to get around the obstruction.”

Michael nods to Terry and begins the process of twisting and removing the Van Buren sound.  In seconds, the device is out, and Terry is grinning.

“Thanks baby.”
 
Terry picks up his robe and moves to stand behind the table.  Michael’s eye follow him for a moment before he turns to his audience.

“Any questions?”

(Editors note: *I’m not sure the curve was designed solely to keep the sound in place.  It IS necessary to make it all the way up into the bladder though. Patric)

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

An embarrassment of riches.

I don’t recall the exact phrase, but it has something to do with even the poorest person is rich if he has friends.

I’ve been thinking about that ever since the last post, where it became embarrassingly apparent just how rich I truly am.

I couldn’t understand at first why this silly little blog all of a sudden got so much attention, and to be perfectly frank, it startled me. Then I discovered my post had been mentioned in a “public” place and voila’! Lot’s of comments, new followers, and one rather disconcerted guy in the middle. :)

Honestly, such scrutiny makes me feel... exposed. Very much like the proverbial earthworm’s wriggling protest against the sunlight when his stone is overturned. Yet, balanced against the genuine concern folks have expressed, this kind of exposure becomes something of a blanket. A wrap around my shoulders when I am sitting by myself in a hospital room at 3:00 in the morning.

Simply because of how I am hard-wired, I’ll likely always grumble about anyone else disbursing information about myself, even while I am busy appreciating the gesture in the long run. :)

Having said all that, I suppose updates are in order.

I’m still in the hospital. I thought I would be released yesterday, but the GI specialist wanted to take a look at my stomach with an endoscope, and like a dummy, I said yes. That affirmative gave him the confidence a few hours later to suggest an
ERCP
as well, “since we’re already there.”

Again, like a dummy, I said yes. :)

Which turned out for the better, I guess. He didn’t find any gallstones, which their collective thinking had as the reason for the various symptoms (Yeah, even after they took out my gallbladder. lol) but he did find a narrowing in the duct, what he calls an ulcer well beyond the stomach, and something else I cant recall offhand, that required an incision.