My flight was delayed. I met a guy in the restaurant bar who was also delayed. We were scheduled on the same plane. It turns out we live in the same city. The minutes turned into hours. He and I got to talking, because what else was there to do?
Our conversation became more intimate. I was divorced. He had been a serial dater, but never married.
The conversation deepened. We were pretty much whispering because although there was quite a bit of noise in the bar, what we were talking about became, well, quite private.
We were talking about masturbation. We were agreeing with each other that it’s a good thing. We went on to agree that if everyone was more accepting of masturbation, it might cure some of the world’s ills. Like overpopulation and unwanted children. Like STDs.
Then he asked a weird question, “What masturbatory thing would you like, but you can’t do it to yourself?”
Normally, I’d never answer a question like that. I’d be shocked. But the way this conversation had been unfolding, it seemed fine to give him my answer:
“I have this fantasy of being tied down, and have someone rub the palm of their hand over the tip of my erect dick. It’s a feeling I can’t stand, and can’t get enough of, all at the same time.”
“Ah, I know the feeling,” he said, adding, “You know, I’ve always been surprised that with a little oil, the feeling is even more intense than with a dry hand. Plus it doesn’t rub the tip of your penis raw.”
I was glad to have some solidarity. Someone who experienced something like me, and was willing to talk about it. Because, face it, sex with women is great, but there can be something missing. Most women are into kissing, dating, and the whole package. Sometimes a guy just wants to get off. Sometimes a guy wants something weird, that most women wouldn’t understand.
“What do you like?”
“I like my balls massaged. Really hard, like rolfing.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about. While I’m not so much a fan of that, I can enjoy a good, firm ball massage.
He went on to say, “But I don’t care for oral, anal, kissing or any of that.”
I was delighted, because that describes me to a tee.
They got the airplane fixed and we boarded, but not before exchanging phone numbers.
A day later he called. “When can we get together?”
I knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Dude, I’m available right now.”
Fifteen minutes later found me in his apartment. We did all the things we discussed. It was even better than I could have imagined. He rubbed the tip of my penis so perfectly that not only did I squirm, yell, and carry on, I even involuntarily let out a little pee a couple of minutes before cumming.
I squeezed his balls so hard I thought they’d pop. He informed me that they are like chicken gizzards. Rubbery. You can’t pop them with your fingertips. You just have to be careful not to injure the back sides where the cords attach. I kind of knew that, but it was reassuring to hear. He was yelling, he was wincing, he was loving it. He kept wanting me to squeeze harder. It kept me very erect doing that to him.
He came without me even touching his penis. Then, he offered the same treatment to me. I had to ask him to be gentler, but found myself very much enjoying the testicle massage. I came a second time, but only because he let go of my scrotum, slowly buried a finger deep in my rectum, and jerked me off with his other hand.
We meet up every month or two. Most of the time we are happy with ourselves or the various ladies we meet. But every now and then, we want something really intense, and we know exactly how to give it to each other.