interesting and unusual sex toys for men and women
Interesting and unusual sex toys for men and women

Stratified Squamous Epithelium

stratified squamous epithelium on penis glans

FUN FACTS by Spurtz

Have you ever experienced a situation where you have had an everyday contact with something and never realized that it had a totally unique quality that you had overlooked for many years?

In fact, you might never have realized that this unique quality existed until you read about it here.

It’s something that men see and handle every single day of their life and something that most women see and handle frequently, especially as they get out of their teens. Think about it. There is probably only one thing in the world that fits that description. You guessed it. It’s the penis.

But wait, what’s so unique about a dick that most of us likely never realized? Well, just take a good look at the head of a cock. One preferably stretched super tight with a world class hard-on. Notice how smooth and shiny the skin is? Think about it. Where else is there skin like that on the human body? There isn’t. Cockhead skin is totally unique. Or is it?

Nobody probably really wants the details but cockhead skin is known as stratified squamous epithelium. Doesn’t that turn you on?

But did you know that the skin on your lips is also known as stratified squamous epithelium? Pull your lips tight so any wrinkles or creases disappear. Damn! Looks exactly like a smooth cock head. Another close connection between the mouth and a dick head.

Stick out your tongue. Admittedly there is some similarity in looks but a closer examination shows that the tongue has a totally different texture. Hook the end of your tongue inside your bottom teeth and push the tongue out to a convex shape. You will see a myriad of openings in it. And in actuality the tongue is not made of skin. It’s a muscle covered in a mucous membrane. No relationship to skin at all.

But a dickhead, with the skin stretched super tight, is as smooth and as flawless as a piece of highly polished metal. And if you and your partner are lucky, also damn near as hard.

Let’s get back to the similarity in looks between a cockhead and the lips. As odd as it may seem, there is a very strong symbiotic relationship between the two. One definition of a symbiotic relationship is as follows: “A symbiotic relationship essentially means a relationship between two organisms, which may or may not benefit one or both.”

Forget the words “may not” in this instance. We all know that when lips touch the glans, there is great benefit for both organs. Or let’s hope so. Some of the ladies might take exception to that statement.

But I’m sure every guy will agree that having lips slide over your glans is one of the better feelings in the world.

We have to ask ourselves, “Why does a dickhead have this unique skin?” One reason I can think of is that it allows your hard prick to more easily slide into your partner’s mouth. Oh, wait. That doesn’t result in pregnancy and pregnancy is what keeps the human race alive. So it more likely is to allow that shiny-headed dick to slide more easily into a vagina. And for those interested in other alternatives, it probably helps it enter an anus with less fuss as well.

So dear reader, think about it. Have you ever wondered about the skin on the head of a cock? I didn’t think so.


Uncle Don Broke My Penis

My grandfather died when my father was 22 and his brother, my Uncle Don, was 24. Grandfather was a drinker, and managed to kill himself in a fiery single-car collision. He had some money that my dad and Uncle Don inherited in equal shares two years before I was born.

Uncle Don convinced my dad to lend him his half of the money so Don could buy a mobile home park. Somehow, Dad was never able to get repaid even after Don started accumulating wealth. While Don eventually owned three mobile home parks, Dad, Mom, and I rented one of Don’s homes. It was the only single-wide trailer in the park. To get technical, our’s was a mobile home. Anything made after 1974 is called a ‘manufactured home.’ Dad worked as a bus driver.

Mom ran off when I was twelve. The story goes that Don sexually assaulted her, resulting in her having two broken teeth. She took him to court, but lost the case, since there was no proof that he had done anything. Fearing for her life, she disappeared.

When I was 18, I decided to learn something about business so I started attending City College, which was quite difficult financially, even though I still lived with Dad. I had this notion that I’d like to own a mobile home park someday, seeing how profitable they’ve been for my uncle. Unlike Don, I’d treat my tenants right. I figured I could learn enough about business to manage my own park some day.

I was still in my first year, when something went wrong with the circuitry in our trailer. Without electric, there was no heat.

Don said he’d send his handyman, but knowing Uncle Don, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Don was well-known for treating his tenants badly, even my father, his own brother. After all, his tenants have no choice. Their mobile homes are fastened to the ground. It would cost them tens of thousands of dollars to move.

Uncle Don did invite Dad and I to stay in his place until the electric got fixed. I stayed in Nancy’s room, and Dad stayed in Ned’s room.

Those were my late cousins. Nancy committed suicide at 16, and Ned had taken up drugs and drinking. Soon, Ned was hopelessly addicted. Don threw him out. He was seen around town from time to time, barely hanging on. One day, he had fallen asleep behind a dumpster that was in back of Safeway. The next morning, a garbage truck picked up the dumpster, emptied it, and set it down right on Ned. But that may not be what killed him. According to the police, he might have already been dead, either from a drug overdose, or exposure to the cold. The poor guy had a cast on one leg when he died, so I can only imagine what his last weeks were like.

My first night at Don’s, I went to bed around midnight. It was warm in Don’s house, so I figured I’d jerk off on top of the blankets before falling asleep. I was just about to orgasm when the door burst open and the light came on.

“I’ll have none of that in my house!” Don shouted. He was obviously drunk as he staggered toward me. He was carrying something that turned out to be a tennis racket. He took a swing and hit me right in one testicle and the side of my still erect penis.

I crumpled up in pain as he wobbled out of the room. My balls, my left testicle in particular, hurt so bad, I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was choking as I lay there with my hands between my legs. Ten minutes later, I could breathe normally, but the pain was still unbelievable. I couldn’t even get off the bed to turn out the light.

An hour went by as I just lay there, not only in pain, but freaking out that I was badly injured. The testicle pain started to subside, and then I noticed that my penis was in pain also.

I pulled my hands away and took a look. My penis was as large as if it was erect. In fact, it was bigger in diameter than I had ever seen it, but it was soft and squishy. It had a big black lump on the left side, and curved oddly to the right, much like the picture below.

Not knowing what else to do, I yelled for Don to come take me to the hospital. After probably 15 minutes, he came back to my room, evidently a bit more sober. I showed him my penis. He refused to take me to the hospital, saying “It’s not that bad,” as he walked out, closing the door behind him.

The only thing I could think to do was call an ambulance. That’s how I got to the hospital. While the ambulance was on its way, I tried putting on my underwear. I couldn’t straighten up enough to do that, so I ended up putting on my sweat pants. I stayed barefoot.

After two painful hours in the waiting room, still barefoot, during which my testicle pain went away, but my dick started aching worse than anything in my life. My dad arrived and sat with me, occasionally swearing under his breath about Don.

When I was finally called into a treatment area, the doctors and nurses all took a look at my penis. I wasn’t embarrassed about them seeing my junk due to the condition I was in. How could something like this happen to me? My fear was such that my heart had been beating really fast for literally hours. A urologist was consulted. It took him another hour to arrive. He looked at my penis, held it gingerly, shifting it this way and that. Man alive, did that hurt!

He quit examining me, and sat on a stool to tell me the situation: I’d need surgery, which was to be performed later that morning. My testicle was fine, but Don had literally broken my penis. The side of the tennis racket, hitting my erect penis like that, caused a fracture of my left corpus cavernosum, the spongy tissue that holds blood when one is erect.

They were going to do something called ‘degloving’ to reach and stitch up the affected area. The idea totally weirded me out. Frankly, it scared the shit out of me. The surgeon was going to detach the skin of my penis all around just behind the head. Then, they dissect and peel the skin away all the way down, so the skin is piled around the base of the penis. That gives them access to the broken area. They’d do the repair and then finally, they would pull the skin back up, and stitch it back in place under the head.

Even with the medicine they gave me, I didn’t sleep much during the few hours left of that night, and was still in considerable pain.

The surgery happened, and my recovery was painful, but uneventful. When a nurse changed my bandages the first time, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was circumcised! I so totally didn’t want that. When the urologist came in for a consult, I asked him why that happened. He said, “I thought you’d like that.”

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

The afternoon after my surgery, when I was still woozy from the drugs, Don stormed into my hospital room, and started yelling at me about the $2,700 the ambulance company charged him for the one-mile ride to the hospital. Two orderlies came and took him away.

I woke up a couple of times every night with sharply painful nocturnal erections. For days, I wanted badly to jerk off, but that fully wasn’t going to happen.

A week later, the stitches were removed by an attractive young intern. She had flaming red hair. I thought she’d use anesthetic, but she said, “You won’t need it.” That scared me, until she started snipping and pulling the stitches out. She was right. It didn’t hurt a bit. I became erect, and was remarkably embarrassed about that. She only said, “Aw, it’s fine.”

I noticed that my dick was quite numb as she was working on it.

Finally, after three weeks, I was starting to get back to normal and was way overdue for a good wank. Ever so carefully, I tried moving the skin up and down. It was totally numb. I could feel my penis between my fingertips, but the dick itself felt like a broomstick. There was no sensation at all. Still, I was able to jerk off and cum. What a relief!

The numbness worried me very much. I asked the urologist, and he said the feeling would eventually come back. It did, but it took six months. It took even longer than that to get used to being circumcised. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. At least the terrible sensitivity of the glans has gone mostly away. Just touching against my underwear was like an unbearable tickle for the first few weeks. To this day, my penis feels weird when I rub it, like there are little lumps under the skin.

Meanwhile, a friend of a friend had a father who was a lawyer and suggested I sue Uncle Don. The case dragged on for months. Meanwhile, I was back in our trailer with Dad, and back in college. In a courtroom appearance, pictures of my penis were shown. It was terribly embarrassing. First, the horrible picture of my black, lumpy, bent, fractured penis. Then my penis with stitches under the corona, and fully erect. The urologist had injected something called Caverject to make me artificially hard to check his work.

To my amazement, the lawyer won. I was awarded 1.5 million dollars. The lawyer got $500,000, leaving me a cool million. I was planning to buy a mobile home park of my own.

The only problem was, the money hadn’t been transferred yet. Don was pulling some legal shit that was slowing the process.

Just when I was figuring I’d never see the money, something unexpected happened. Don had gone out drinking, and somehow drove his car right into a bridge abutment. He messed up his innards something terrible. He languished in terrible pain in the hospital for three weeks before he died. I shouldn’t say this, but I was secretly happy. The world is better off without a guy like that.

I figured that was the end of my million dollars, but even more surprising was the call from Don’s lawyer. My fucked up uncle had written a will. He had left two of his mobile home parks to my father, and one to me. Mine was assessed at over $5 million.

Son’s Phimosis

One day, when my son, Luke, was home from college for a two-month break, he and I were sitting in the dining room having a casual mother-son conversation. He asked whether sex is supposed to be painful. I knew he had been having sexual relations with a young lady, and was fine with it. He’s old enough, he’s responsible, and I trust him to make good decisions. It’s me who doesn’t always make the best decisions.

I almost cried when Luke asked about sex being painful. You see I knew from my son’s earliest times that he may have a problem with phimosis. That’s where the foreskin can’t retract fully. It makes keeping the penis clean difficult, and it can cause pain on intercourse. My husband had to be circumcised as an adolescent due to phimosis.

I felt terrible, because on several occasions when doctors advised me to have Luke circumcised, I just couldn’t do it. Especially after my husband told me that when he was cut, it took many painful weeks to heal. I figured at the age of 20, it would be terribly embarrassing, painful, and inconvenient for Luke. You see, I had just hoped it might go away.

In his adolescence, I tried to recommend stretching exercises, but he wasn’t having it. He didn’t even let me finish the conversation the few times I brought it up.

Now, I knew we had a problem. I talked with Luke earnestly right there at the dining room table. I let him know my thoughts about his whole phimosis problem, even that I felt bad for not having him circumcised. He let me know that he was aware of his condition, and even my feelings about it.

“Mom,” he said, “I’m glad you didn’t let that happen to me. I don’t want it now, either. I’ve read of some exercises…”

I didn’t bother to remind him that I already tried to get him to do those exercises years earlier.

He announced he’d start right away, and went upstairs. Presumably, Luke went to his room to get erect and start stretching the foreskin. I know it’s crazy, being his mother and all, but the thought of him doing that up there made me horny. Of course I didn’t do anything about it.

A week later, I asked, “How are the exercises going?”

“Huh? Oh, I forgot all about it.”

Shit. “OK, why don’t you start now?”

“I guess I should.”

A week later, I asked again, and he sheepishly admitted he still hadn’t started. I was surprised how angry that made me. Here he was not enjoying sex, and not doing anything about it. He didn’t want surgery, but that’s exactly where he was headed. Perhaps it was the anger that provoked me to say, “Luke Albert Whitfield, pull your pants down right now.”

He looked like a deer in the headlights. If I wasn’t still angry, I would have laughed.

Thinking more clearly, I commanded, “Well, not here. Come to my bedroom.”

He’s an obedient son, so he followed me to my bedroom. I locked the door so my daughter couldn’t come in, had him strip and lay face up on our big king bed. He was very reluctant. I can’t say as I blame him. I hadn’t seen his little willie since he was in diapers. I was surprised to see how big and hairy it was now. I guess as a mother, one always imagines their children as little boys and girls.

I pulled my dressing chair alongside the bed, and grabbed that penis of his, examining the tight foreskin.

“That tickles,” he giggled.

“Deal with it.”

I was forming a plan of action. I’d do the exercise for him, since he wasn’t doing them himself. I started pulling the foreskin down, but of course nothing was happening with his penis being soft. I knew what to do, and decided I’d have to remain entirely clinical about this. I couldn’t allow the feelings that were boiling up in my lower belly, and you know where.

I got up, went into my office, and returned with a soft little paint brush. I waved it back and forth over his penis, over the frenulum area, until the bristles was just touching his penis. His penis jumped a little bit each time the brush touched it. I knew the effect. This always works very well with Dan, his father, if I want him erect.

Soon enough, my boy was hard. Not quite as big as Dan, but respectable. Very respectable. Actually, it was kind of hard to compare, with that foreskin covering everything up like it was.

My boy was totally embarrassed, but I told him to forget it. I reminded him that I had diapered him. He was like, “Well, you’ve never seen me like this.”

“Oh, you mean erect? Luke, I hate to tell you, but little boys get erections, too. I’ve seen everything. Don’t you worry.”

I went to work, pulling down on the foreskin, holding it for ten seconds, just like the exercises are supposed to be done, then letting go so it can relax for a minute. A couple times I pulled too hard, and he was like, “Ouch, Mom!” but I knew ‘no pain, no gain.’

After ten repetitions we were done. He couldn’t get back into his clothes and out of there fast enough. He disappeared into his room. I’ll bet he jerked off. I know I wanted to do some serious jilling, but I was already late getting dinner ready for Dan and the kids.

The next day at 4pm, I commanded Luke to come back to my bedroom. He anticipated, and walked across the house naked. His sister saw him, but said nothing. I don’t know whether they had communicated about his ‘treatments’ or not.

It didn’t take as long to get him hard. We did the exercises. He stayed hard, and walked back across the house, again in front of his sister in the living room. Was he showing off his naked body and his erection? I didn’t care to think about it.

Next day, same thing, except his sister wasn’t home. He was hard when he arrived in my room.

“Mom,” he said, “These exercises are kind of fun.”

“Don’t you get any crazy ideas.”

“Oh, no, no way, nothing like that!” he assured me evidently as shocked as I was at the thought.

The exercises continued for a couple of weeks. I was proud of my diligence. Seldom in my life have I stuck with anything. That’s why I’m twenty pounds overweight. Diets last about 3 days with me.

On this occasion, as I was on about the eighth stretch, I felt something weird. A kind of pulsing. I knew almost immediately that my boy was ejaculating in my hands.

He groaned, “Oh, Mom!”

I knew from Dan that men don’t like unfinished business. I mean, they hate ruined orgasms, so I did what came so naturally to me. I stroked him as he was cumming, so he could finish his orgasm properly. I immediately regretted it. Had I gone too far?

Feeling guilty, the next day, I told him he had to finish doing the exercises himself. He was in agreement. In fact, he even admitted he had been doing the exercises twice a day. Once with me, and once by himself. “They feel really, really good,” he admitted.

That was a year ago. Those darn exercises really work! He came to me a few days ago, and proudly showed me how far he’s come along. Of course that required an erection, but he had no problem rubbing himself to hardness in front of his own mother.

Five minutes later, I was in my bedroom masturbating myself like crazy, and having the strongest series of orgasms I’ve had in a very long time.

Prudish in America

“Pardon my English,” he said, “I’ve only been in America for 3 years.”

[I assured him his English is better than many of my clients who were born and raised in America. From this point forward, I’m quoting my client as closely as I can remember.]

What do I find most different about America? Well, it’s insane that your inches, miles, quarts, gallons and all that are different than most other worldwide measurements. And, the way you Americans are always so busy. Oh, and I have to say the American medical system is so sexually prudish.

For instance, right before I came to America I decided to take care of a small medical problem.

My mom took me to the doctor. I was eighteen, but it still felt better to have her with me. The nurse, a very attractive, thin, younger woman, after the routine of checking my blood pressure and looking at my eyes, ears, nose, throat and so on, had me and Mom follow her to an exam room. The doctor introduced himself, then got right down to business. “What seems to be the problem?”

I explained that every time I ejaculate, I have a pain in my anus for a few minutes afterward. I was a little worried about basically admitting that I jerk off in front of my mom, but it had to be revealed at some point. I didn’t know how she might react. What she did was the last thing I expected.

She tried suppressing a laugh, then blurted out, “I’ve always said you’re a pain in the ass.”

The doctor smiled briefly. My mom laughed then settled down. Evidently, she wasn’t bothered by my revelation.

Doctor Jacovich then told me that the problem is very likely nothing serious, saying he had seen it once before.

“I had a young female patient, just about your age, who was experiencing something very similar. I had her masturbate to show me the problem. Her anus was so tight that it was difficult to get my finger in. Anyway, I sent her home with some exercises to do.

“She was just back the other day for her 6-month checkup. She’s fine now. No more pain. I’ll examine you to make sure it’s the same thing. Please remove all your clothes while I set up the exam table. Mother, you can leave to give your son some privacy.”

“No, that’s OK,” I told him. “She can stay.” I don’t know why, but I felt rather excited about her seeing my genital exam. As I started removing everything, the doctor attached some big stainless steel, um, how you say in America, ah, ‘stirrups’ to the end of the table.

He explained that the stirrups are generally used for women during gynecological exams, but work perfectly well for men in this situation as well.

My mother seemed to have rather big eyes as the last of my clothing, my underpants, came off. I felt a certain heaviness in my cock, as if it was starting, just beginning, to become erect. Part of me was mortified that I might have an erection in front of the doctor and especially my mother, but at the same time, another part was hoping it would happen.

The doctor had me lay on the table, scoot toward the end, and put my legs up in the stirrups. It was rather comfortable, actually. He rolled a lamp over and focused it right on my genital area. My mother scooted forward in her chair to have a better look.

My cock started erecting of its own accord. There was nothing I could do about it. It wasn’t that this slightly overweight, gray-haired, male doctor was attractive. Far from it. My mom is attractive, but I don’t think of her in that way. It was just the situation. Well, I must admit, there was a sexual component to being seen this way by the two of them. Especially Mom.

Dr. Jacovich went to work. Reaching forward with gloved hands he started manipulating my balls between his thumbs and first fingers. I guess he was looking for lumps. He was being a bit harsher that I would have liked. It didn’t exactly hurt, but came close to it. Meanwhile, my penis extended to its full, throbbing length.

I apologized to the doctor. He assured me erection was normal under the circumstances. My mother was stock still in her chair, staring intently. I can only imagine what she was thinking. Actually, I have no idea what she was thinking.

The doctor then lubed up a finger with something that came from a tube like toothpaste, then he slowly worked a finger into my anus. “Any pain now?” he asked.

I told him there was no pain. What I wanted to say was, “Hell no, that feels great!” as my penis was throbbing with every heartbeat and sticking almost straight up. Normally, when laying down, it lays against my belly or sticks up only a few centimeters, but it must have been even stiffer than usual this time.

“Now, go ahead and masturbate for me young man, if you would.”

I started to jerk off with his finger still in my anus. As spectacular as it felt, I felt quite awkward about actually masturbating in front of my mother. This was weird! So, I stroked for quite a while, actually enjoying the situation immensely, but didn’t manage to come to ejaculation. The doctor decided to lend a hand. With his free hand, he pushed my own hand away, and started jerking me off with his hand firmly wrapped around my penis.

He went on for a couple of minutes, and I was starting to worry that I wouldn’t be able to cum, which I assumed was important for the doctor to learn what he needed. Do you know the situation where when you really want to cum so badly that you somehow put it off so it’s harder to cum?

After a moment, the door burst open, and the pretty nurse came in with a clipboard. She barely glanced at me, asking the doctor something about ordering supplies. I mean there I was, with a strong light on my genitals, my mother sitting in a chair right next to me, the doctor on his rolling stool jerking me off with one hand, and his other with a finger in my ass, and she’s casually asking about inventory.

He answered her question, and she turned to leave. She stopped, looked at my cock in the doctor’s grip for a moment, then looked me directly in the eye, and smiled before leaving the room, as if assuring me all was OK.

That was just too much, and I ejaculated right away, right there with Mom and the doctor watching intently.

A moment later, I felt the usual slight pain in my anus. As always, it subsided right away, even though I had a finger in there. The doctor slowly removed his finger, handed me some paper towels to clean myself, snapped off his gloves into a trash bin, and walked over to his desk.

“You can dress, young man.”

After doing so, my mom and I pulled up chairs to his desk.

He asked me how I felt when I first started masturbating. I said it was scary but nice. He asked if I was afraid of doing something wrong or being caught masturbating. I admitted that I had at that age.

He then went on to explain that I was perfectly healthy, but I did indeed have the same problem as the female patient he had mentioned earlier. It was what he called ‘sphincter spasms.’ He said I, and the female patient, at the moment of orgasm, had squeezed his finger so hard it almost hurt. It was some sort of psychosomatic response of the body, initially triggered by the fear of our early masturbation experiences.

He then suggested the following exercises:

1. Try masturbating at least three times a day for three days.

2. Feel the pain in the anus. Really notice it. Then start to try to like it.

3. Place my finger, or any long smooth cylindrical object, in my anus while masturbating.

He added with a wry smile, “Your mother can help if you’d like.”

As if all this open talk about masturbation, in front of my mother no less, wasn’t shocking enough, that last statement was, well, super-embarrassing, and yet also exciting. Even though I had just ejaculated, the thought of her helping me jerk off got me all horny.

At home, my mom and talked about the experience at the doctor’s. She then went on to say that if I’d like her assistance with my masturbation sessions, that she’d be happy to help.

A Parent’s Guide to Phimosis

(Please note, your author is not a medical expert. Proper professionals should be consulted.)

For those who don’t know, ‘phimosis’ is a common condition in which the foreskin will not adequately retract over the glans, the head of the penis.

Boys who were circumcised as infants are exempt from this condition, but for many others, it’s quite real. It becomes more obvious as they become old enough to have sex, and find it painful if not even impossible. Cleanliness is also difficult. Some boys grow sufficiently out of the condition, but not all. Those boys will need your help.

The obvious solution would seem to be circumcision. Just cut the offending, unretractable or painful foreskin off. Or, one might opt for the ‘dorsal slit’ procedure which is still a minor surgery, but not as severe as actually removing the foreskin.

Like any surgery, circumcision can be problematic. The child or adult who has had the procedure may find it quite painful, and it can take weeks to fully heal. It is also traumatic. Imagine the child’s reaction to having strange doctors, nurses and others touching and showing concern for his penis!

Now, I’m certainly not advocating routine circumcision for all male babies, as has been practiced in many cultures for hundreds of years. That’s nothing but very bad news. Believe it or not, until around 1960, many doctors actually said that babies don’t feel pain. Therefore they often performed circumcisions without anesthesia. Evidently, the babies were just frantically crying for some other reason. And what about the freshly cut penises rubbing on the cloth or diapers the boys were wearing for the next several days? What about urine getting into the cut? Well, babies don’t feel pain, right?

Psychologist have long pointed out that childhood experiences can have long-lasting subconscious effects well into adulthood. That’s a major reason why we don’t molest children. So what happens to a boy who has been made to suffer pain in his penis as one of the first things that happened to him since being born? You may have seen the effects. Do you have a bitter neighbor, cousin, friend, or even mate who always complains about everything? Right, that may be due to an early, one-trial-learning experience around the age of eight days. That baby may have come to the conclusion that the world is a lousy place, and bad things can happen out of his control at any time. I believe if someone did the research, they’d find millions of men in this condition.

Then, there were the complications. A very minor one, that some men carry into adult hood is skin bridge, in which as the skin heals, a portion permanently attaches to the glans.

penile skin bridge

But far worse is infections. More than one baby had a penis amputated, and some even died from complications of circumcision. Oh, well, it’s God’s will. NO! It’s the will of people who have been too sheepish to stop an ongoing and foolish tradition.

Fortunately, there is an alternative to circumcision. No hospitalization, no surgery, no pain, no recovery time, and no examinations and procedures by strangers are required. This alternative is stretching exercises.

In order for the stretching exercises to work, the exercises have to be performed on a regular and ongoing basis. If your boy is like most, he’s going to need your help to stay focused and perform the exercises regularly. In fact, if you can participate to any degree you feel is appropriate and make the exercises enjoyable, your child is more likely to have success.

For the purposes of this discussion, we’ll assume your boy is at least 18 years old. The exercises can be performed on younger children, but one must consider the possible psychological consequences. Furthermore, discussion of a procedure of this sort, even though purely clinical and applied only for the betterment of the child’s health, could be misconstrued as sexual in some manner, and therefore cannot appear on this website. What you do in your home, within your own family, is of course none of this writer’s business. If you discover phimosis at an early age, take whatever action you know is correct.

You may have noticed your child’s tight foreskin as early as when you diapered him. You may not have paid any attention, or realized that many young children cannot fully retract their foreskins. That’s normal, and most grow out of it.

Or, maybe as an adolescent, or later, as your child grew up, the condition came to your attention in one way or another. For instance, he may have asked you about it. The boy may have even had an erection in your presence, and showed you how it hurts him to pull his foreskin back.

Or maybe, you happened to notice, reached over, tried to expose his glans, and were met with a yelp of pain.

Hopefully, you didn’t take him for an embarrassing trip to the doctor, where the boy was made to have an erection to show the strange doctor the problem. And worse, hopefully the doctor didn’t suggest circumcision. Can you imagine being an adolescent and having someone tell you they have to cut your penis?

I wonder, how much does a surgeon get paid for this simple little procedure? They do have incentive to cut.

The honest and enlightened doctor may recommend stretching exercises. The reasonable way to put it, is that the boy can try the exercises first, and only resort to surgery if that doesn’t work.

You would think that would certainly motivate the child to do the exercises regularly and diligently. But you know kids! With the best of intentions, they often fail to do what they know they should do. Remember how hard it was to get him to brush his teeth? Now, there’s baseball, homework, TV, computers, friends, a million distractions.

There will be the occasional child who is well acquainted with masturbation, and realizes these exercises could actually be enjoyable. But most will either disregard the exercises entirely, or do them half-heartedly a few times, then give up. This is true even for boys who masturbate regularly.

You’ll remind him several times. You may even cajole or yell, but you know it will do no good.

This is when you have to take things into your own hands. Literally. That may be a good thing, because even a child who is willing to do the exercises on his own may not understand exactly how they are done, or may not bring himself to do them fully.

So, it falls on you to do the exercises for your boy. Remember, this is clinical. This not sexual, although it would entirely natural for you to become somewhat excited after these exercise sessions and have to relieve yourself later on.

Here’s what you do: Explain to the child what’s going to happen, and remind him of the consequences if he does not acquiesce: Circumcision.

Set up a comfortable environment. It may be the child’s bed, your bed, a mat on the floor, or even in the living room on the sofa, if the other members of the family don’t care, and if it won’t embarrass your kid.

In some families, nudity, and even masturbation in front of each other is common. If this describes your family, no problem. Otherwise, afford your boy as much privacy as you can. Wherever you set up shop, it should be warm. No one wants to remove their clothing in a cold room.

Warm your hands. They may already seem warm to you, but unless the surface of your fingertips are at room temperature, they may seem shockingly cold when you first touch your boy.

For solidarity and for the boy’s emotional comfort, you might consider removing all your clothing also. That way, he won’t be the only naked one.

The child has to be erect for these exercises to work. He may come to you already in that state. If not, you might try this:

Wave your fingers or better yet, the corner of a sheet of toilet paper, over the boy’s scrotum. Slowly lower until your fingers or the sheet are just barely touching the skin. This creates a mild tickle-like effect that often generates spontaneous erection. If necessary, move on to ever-so-lightly tickling the boy’s frenulum. That’s the little fold of skin on the underside of the penis just below the glans. It is nearly indistinguishable from the foreskin itself, so you might say you are super-lightly tickling the foreskin just under the glans.

There’s no doubt the boy will grow an erection. If he’s shy or concerned, remind him that what’s happening is natural. That an erection would happen to any boy. Also remind him that it’s necessary for the exercise to work. You might also say you’ve taken care of him since he was a baby. You’ve seen erections before.

If you’re the father, you may become erect also. Or if you’re the mother, you may notice some arousal, some wetness. These reactions are natural, but can be entirely disregarded for now. If necessary, you can take care of that yourself later.

Once the child is fully erect, the exercises themselves are simple. Actually, it’s a single exercise, repeated several times. Simply pull the foreskin down just to the point of pain, but not beyond. There’s no need to hurt your boy. Pull it down until he expresses slight discomfort or winces, then hold it for ten seconds before letting go. Give him a few seconds to settle, then do it again. Do it ten times in a row. Do the whole procedure at least two times a day if possible.

In time, you may find yourself becoming bored with the procedure, yet you know that if you don’t help your kid every day, he’s going to quit doing the exercises. One of the best solutions is to enlist other family members to help. Perhaps your spouse, or one of your son’s brothers or sisters can be shown how to do what you’ve been doing.

For some boys, it is easy to show him that these exercises can be combined with masturbation. If you’re lucky, he will need no more prompting after that. However, if you want to be sure the exercises are getting done, and there’s no one to help you, another approach is to instruct the boy to get himself fully erect and do the exercises in front of you or a family member.

Depending on the age of your boy, you may notice occasional dry orgasms, or ejaculations. That’s to be expected, but not necessarily encouraged. It tends to cut the exercise period short, since the boy won’t enjoy continuing with the exercises after orgasm. So, orgasm should be avoided if you can sense it coming (no pun intended), and back off for a minute until the pre-orgasmic sensation in your boy subsides.

Patience is key. These exercises won’t fix the problem in a week. They may even take years, but the outcome is well worth the effort.

You’ll probably discover small rewards along the way. If the boy has had major phimosis, then the day will come when you can just barely see his peehole as the skin is stretched down. Some time later, you’ll see a 5 millimeter circle of glans exposed. Then it will be 10 millimeters. The day will come when the foreskin suddenly slips behind the glans. This is a slightly tricky time, as it can be difficult to get the foreskin to slip back over the glans. The ring of tight foreskin behind the glans tends to restrict blood flow, so the glans will want to stay erect. However, patiently working the foreskin back into position will do the job. Eventually, the foreskin will slip back and forth over the glans easily.

Odd Sports Physical

I went to my mom’s friend for my college entry physical. Perhaps I should have known better. She’s a nurse practitioner. Cheryl is her name. She’s a bit on the heavy side, has graying hair, and most of the time wears a no-nonsense expression.

She did the physical at her house, which I suppose is a bit weird, but at the time, I thought it would be better than waiting around in a doctor’s office. They always run late, and that bothers the heck out of me.

I got there and she instructed me to strip down to my underpants. Cheryl did all the usual stuff: blood sample, listen to heart and lungs, weigh on the scale. All the while, she was asking me questions, like why I joined the baseball team when I’m so good at football. (I didn’t get a football scholarship, but did get a partial baseball scholarship.) I thought this ongoing questioning was unusual from her. All the time she had known my mom, she barely paid any attention to me at all, and I came to think of her as a mostly non-talkative person.

My mind turned away from Cheryl and what she was doing. I was on the verge of buying an old Harley, and was really excited about that motorcycle. It was all I ever thought about lately.

She asked me to momentarily remove my underpants. That brought me crashing out of my daydreaming. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but I asked “Why?” I mean all the medical exams I’ve ever had, either I would leave my underwear on, or at most, they’d swoop down the front for a moment for nothing other than the briefest of a glance at my balls or whatever.

“Because a young man needs to be checked for everything, testicular cancer, included.”

“Oh.” I felt really weird about letting Cheryl see my dick. My ass too, for that matter. But what could I do? This was a medical exam after all. No big deal, right?

So, I stepped out of my briefs. There I was stark naked in front of my mom’s friend. Now, nudity has always had an effect on me. Thank God that the showers in high school were all in separate stalls, because I’d often get at least partial wood in there. The other guys never knew. And of course I didn’t know what was happening with them in their showers. I kind of wondered. Anyway, the thing was I felt like my penis might rise up in front of Cheryl, and that would be weird, and embarrassing to the max.

First she did the turn my head and cough thing. I felt a stronger possibility of erection. In fact, I was becoming very afraid my penis was starting to puff up a bit.

“No hernia,” she quietly half-muttered. It’s not like I was relieved, because I was pretty sure there was nothing wrong with me, anyway.

She had me lay on her ‘examination table.’ It looked like a massage table to me, but whatever. She reached out, and started scrunching around on my sack.

To my horror, that fucked me up entirely. My dick rose of its own accord, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could do about it.

“Um, I’m sorry…” I started to blurt.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just proves you’re a healthy boy.”

She continued to feel my balls for quite a while. Under other circumstances, it would have been wonderful. I’d like to have a girl, I mean, someone my age, do that. My mind drifted to Marie, a beautiful Mexican chick at school. She was a girl I always wanted to talk to, but never could. Oh well, now that high school was over, I’d probably never get the chance for the rest of my life. Somehow in my mind, I started imagining it was Marie squeezing my balls back and forth like that.

Suddenly my mind shot back to reality. What the fuck was happening? I was rock hard as Cheryl was continuing to massage my balls. And, why was she taking so long? I was starting to feel that pre-orgasmic feeling one gets. Oh no! But just before it was too late, she let go of my balls.

Whew, that was a close one! I realized this was as close as I had ever come to ejaculating, without actually ejaculating. I was sure I’d be rubbing one out later to finish the job.

She turned away to a little table, grabbed something, then returned. “The schools are insisting that we test for STDs these days. This may sting a bit.”

I didn’t really grasp what she was saying. I was vaguely thinking she was going to jab my arm for more blood or something.

Suddenly, I felt her grab my still rock-hard penis in her hand, wrapping her fingers firmly around it. There was that getting-ready-to-orgasm feeling again. It came on me suddenly. And then, as I looked to see what she was doing, she jabbed a Q-tip about an inch in my peehole. That did sting! She could have warned me. But then again, I guess she did.

Now, it would have been nice if she pulled it out right away. But no, she kind of pushed it in a bit more, and twirled it around. It stung big-time! Finally, she pulled it out, and if you can imagine it, that stung even worse.

“Owww, Holy fu…”

But then it was over. The pain ended as quickly as it had begun.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. It had to be done. Putting the Q-tip into some sort of little container, she immediately turned back to me and grabbed my penis again.

‘Now what?’ I was thinking. What torturous thing did she have in mind next? But that’s not what happened at all.

Cheryl apologized for that pain, and said, “This might help.”

She held my penis, looking at it intensely, and kind of shifting it to one side then the other. It was still as hard as a hammer. It felt nice for her to hold it that way. Then, she slid my foreskin all the way back. It was intense. Almost bordering on a different kind of pain. She held it that way for a good few seconds. Then she pushed it back over the head of my penis. Then she pulled it back again.

“Checking for proper functionality.” she said, in that same low, almost to herself voice.

She did that ever so slowly about five more times. That was it. I couldn’t hold back any more. I tried really, really hard, tightening up every muscle I had, but it was hopeless. Cum started shooting out of me, all over her hand and my stomach.

“Yes, all good!” she said, this time brightly, and with a smile on her face.

“You appear to be in perfect health young man.” With that, she left the room, so I could wipe up the mess, and put my clothes back on.

As I walked into her living room, I thanked her for the physical while feeling very strangely about what had just happened.

Cheryl asked me not to tell the details of what just happened to my mother. I assumed she felt guilty about going way beyond the rules for this sort of thing. I assured her I wouldn’t tell. I mean, I’ve never discussed anything sexual with my mom. There’s no way I could bring something like this up.

The next day, my mom and I were sitting around the dining room table, just talking about this and that, when she said, “Cheryl says you’re really healthy.”

I didn’t catch her meaning.

“I mean Cheryl says she ejaculated you during your exam.”

I must have turned ten shades of red.

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Mrs. Sanderson’s Prostate Massages

Mrs. Sanderson's Prostate Massages

I’m assuming this story, told to me by a client is true. Knowing the guy, I suspect it is. Here you go:

So, as you know, I was diagnosed with benign prostate enlargement. It’s typical for a man of my advancing age, and harmless enough, as long as one takes care of it. Let it go, and you get to where you can’t pee with a forceful stream like you should. I was supposed to get some physical exercise a few times a day for fifteen minutes each time, avoid sitting for long periods, eat healthy, and one other thing.

The doctor asked whether I would like prostate massage, then explained what it is. I’m fortunate to have a gold insurance plan, which covers such things with only a tiny co-pay. In this case, $10.

So here’s the deal. The doctor’s office set me up with weekly appointments with a Mrs. Sanderson. She’s a massage therapist. She is trained in several modalities and seems very professional, if perhaps a bit on the spiritual side. Like, she’s into astrology, and uses Indian terms, such as ‘lingam’ to mean ‘penis.’

Anyway, I went to her. She draped me except for the necessary portions of my lower body. Then she placed a gloved finger in my rectum, and pressed all around for quite a while. What an interesting feeling! You feel sort of like you’re going to pee, but you don’t and it’s actually much nicer. I’d love to get this treatment even if I didn’t have BPE.

So, the first time was great. I felt like I was starting to get an erection, but laying face down on the table, it didn’t much matter. I figured she couldn’t see anything.

The next time, she asked whether I felt a need for being draped.

I boldly said “No,” and for some reason, being entirely naked in front of this woman felt very erotic. It didn’t make any sense. She’s older than I am, gray haired, and quite overweight. But friendly. I did get an erection, and there’s little doubt she saw it. You’d think I’d be embarrassed about it, but I quickly told myself it must happen with many of her clients, and so my embarrassment turned to a weird sort of pride. She said nothing about it, and neither did I. It was a bit strange, however, to have an erection, to be sexually aroused, and not have an orgasm. I wanked big-time when I got home.

Oddly, I did ejaculate a bit during Mrs. Sanderson’s session. Well, not really. The prostate massage causes a bit of semen to work it’s way down the urethra and show up at the tip of the penis.

The next appointment was the same. Erection with no one reacting to it.

The fourth appointment, Mrs. Sanderson asked whether I’d feel more comfortable with a release.

I had to think about it for approximately 1/2 second. “Yes, of course!”

After the finger in the butt thing, she removed her glove, put on some massage oil, and gave me an expert handjob. I mean really expert. Somehow, she was able to read my physiology, and know when I was close to squirting. She kept me on the brink of ejaculating for two or three whole minutes. Finally, I squirted quite a bit of cum all over her hand and my belly. It resulted in a big smile from her, and from me.

I have been going to this woman for over a year now, and of all damn things, my prostate has returned to nearly normal size. The doctor is amazed. He says none of his other patients have made as much progress. I attribute it to good diet, the exercising several times a day as he recommended, and of course Mrs. Sanderson’s treatments. Her handjobs have been so good that sometimes she can keep me in actual orgasm, contractions and everything, without squirting any cum for minutes at a time. Finally, she purposely takes me beyond orgasm into ejaculation. Amazing!

My wife knows all about it, and is surprisingly fine about it. I’d think she’d be all crazy, or jealous, or at least I thought she’d say “You’ve gone too far this time.”

But no, she claims to be relieved because I’m not so ‘demanding’ of sex with her. I don’t actually demand it, but that’s the way she feels about it. Since menopause, many years ago, now, she has been much less interested in sex than I. It used to be the other way around. Oh well, Mrs. Sanderson fills the gap nicely.

Oddly, those handjobs of her’s are better than actual sex. Go figure!

Mother Dermatologist

I came home for Christmas vacation from my first year of college with a rash in my buttcrack. It wasn’t horrible, but it had me itching. My mom noticed. She happens to be a dermatologist, so how perfect is that? Except, I was rather timid about telling her about it, because, well, it was in such a personal place. But what could I do except admit the truth? Plus, it did have to be treated.

So, in her bedroom, I took off my pants and showed her. I was very embarrassed about her seeing my penis and all that. The last time she saw me naked was so far back I don’t remember. Now, I was a hairy monster, or so I imagined myself in the circumstance.

She had me lay face down on the bed and she spread my ass cheeks apart with her hand. My, that felt nice! I immediately realized I shouldn’t feel that way about it. It was just my mom looking at a rash, after all. She let go, and went into the kitchen where she came out with a little bottle of something. She then spread my ass cheeks again, and put some kind of oily substance on the rash. It felt cool, almost cold. She spread it around pretty good. In the process, her fingertips brushed directly over my asshole a couple of times. I don’t know what she was thinking. Probably nothing – just another patient with a dermatological situation, except this was her son, no big deal.

But what was I thinking? I don’t really know. Maybe it was just the gentle, greasy touch in such an intimate place, but I immediately threw an erection. I hoped she didn’t notice with me laying face down on the bed. I had to readjust as my body was compressing the erection, and that didn’t feel so good. Again, I hoped she didn’t notice my movement, or at least I hoped she didn’t know why I wiggled like that.

“Oh, my boy’s getting a boner!” she sang out, in a teasing voice.

I guess she noticed.

“Lemme see.”

“Hell no, Mom.”

“Come on, it’s not like I haven’t seen your willie before.”

“But not erect!” I couldn’t even believe I had said that word, ‘erect’ to my mother.

“I’ll bet it’s cute.”

“Geez Mom, just think of me as a patient.”

“They get erections sometimes.”


“Lemme see.”

I don’t disobey my mother. So, even though I’m sure I was red in the cheeks, and felt like I’d rather die, I flipped over on the bed, letting her see my rock-hard erection.

“Why, that’s beautiful. Maybe even better than your father’s.”

She actually reached out and touched it! And, OK, I’ll admit it, that felt terribly good! She then manipulated my scrotum, I guess looking for more of the rash. She then pulled my foreskin down for a moment with her fingertips, then flipped it back up over my bulging cockhead. I started to feel an inevitable orgasm building up. I was thinking that cumming with my mother manipulating my penis just couldn’t happen. I’d certainly be guilty of something. The exact details, I couldn’t describe at the time, but I knew I absolutely couldn’t cum.

I needn’t have worried. A few seconds later, she said, “OK, put your pants back on Buster.”

Nothing more ever happened, and neither of us ever mentioned that evening. But I have to tell you I have masturbated to orgasm many times recalling that evening in my mind.

interesting and unusual sex toys for men and women
Interesting and unusual sex toys for men and women