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Big Clit Situation

In my teens, I led a ridiculously sheltered life. I didn’t know I was different from anyone else. Then, one day I happened across some pictures on Wikipedia. I was fascinated by penises, but somehow found myself looking at vaginas also.

Where were their sticking out things? Looking close at some of the pictures, I figured out all these women’s vaginas had little tiny clitorises. What was up with that?

Well, it didn’t take me long to figure out that I’m a freak of nature, and frankly, the realization scared me to death.

It took days for me to bring up my concern with the only one I could trust, my mother.

“Oh dear,” she sighed. “I figured this would come up some day. Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t bring this up sooner.”

As if I wasn’t scared already, sheesh!

She must have seen the look on my face, because she quickly added, “Oh, I mean, there’s nothing wrong…”

Then she hesitated before explaing things to me. “We knew from the time you were a baby that you’re slightly intersexed.”


“Yeah, that means you aren’t 100% female. Oh, it’s common enough.”

Actually it isn’t common, I found out later, but it was kind of her to put it that way.

“Have you ever noticed that your breasts are kind of small?”

“Um, yes, I guess so, Mom, but I figured they’re still growing in.”

“You’re eighteen, honey. They are not going to grow any more. Well, that’s part of being intersexed.”

I was feeling kind of sick to my stomach as she went on. I really wasn’t liking hearing this. I mean, who wants to find out they are a freak?

“When you were a baby, we had some doctors take a look at you. They said you don’t have vegital testicles, which some intersexed people do have. They offered to cut down your, um, clitoris, and we said no. That you could always decide on your own if that’s what you want.”

She went on to explain that I inherited it from my father’s side of the family. Evidently, my grandmother has the same thing. I can’t even imagine… Geez! How did my mother know that, anyway?

Tears were forming in my eyes. Among everything else I was feeling, this was just too personal, especially to be discussing it with my own mother.

“Do you want?”


“I mean, would you like to be surgically, uh, adjusted?”

This was all so new, and unsettling that I reacted weirdly. I moaned and ran out of the kithcen to my room, threw myself down on the bed, and had a good cry.

A half-later with a gentle knock on my door, my dad came in. I really, really didn’t want to discuss this with him. My own father! I think he knew. Wordlessly, he put an arm on my shoulder. A minute later he drew me to him and held me like a baby as I cried outright.

Time went on. A couple of months later, I had my first real boyfriend. Lukar and I were getting close. He let me know in subtle ways that it was time to take it to the next level.

We ended up breaking up over it. Not only was I a scared virgin, but I couldn’t, just couldn’t let him see my fucked up, misshapen vagina.

Months passed. I dared not get close to any other boys. I just couldn’t face the inevitable next steps. Then one day, I was idly watching a cooking video on YouTube, and the chef made some little joke. “When you have lemons, you make lemonade.” Of course I had heard that before, but my silly mind justaposed that with my huge, embarrassing clitoris problem, and some kind of reframe came to me. It hit me hard, but not in a bad way, it caused me to practically laugh out loud.

In my mind, I rephrased it to, “When you have a big clit, you make love.”

I texted Lukar. He was like, “What do you want?” I can’t blame him for the negative response. I mean, from his point of view, we had been really close, yet I wouldn’t have sex with him. When he asked why, I wouldn’t tell him. I’d just burst into tears. I can see how that might frustrate a guy.

It took me days to get him to warm up to me again. In fact, at one point, I had convinced myself he had another girlfriend. But warm up he did, at least a little bit. So it was now or never. If I wanted to keep Lukar, I had to tell him.

There’s a 7-11 near where I live that has a picnic table under a shade tree just to the side of the parking lot. Lukar and I were sitting there eating sandwiches. Once again he was hinting that he’d like to get sexual, and I was holding back. He just came out and said in an annoyed voice, “Why? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Quietly, after a pause, I said, “Well Lukar, there is something wrong with me.” Then I stopped. How does someone admit that their vagina is all wrong? Well, like my parents taught me, quoting a line from the poet Robert Frost, “The only way out is always through.”

“OK Lukar, here’s the thing. My, um…. my vag… my vagina is malformed. There, I said it!”

I’ve never seen such a look of confusion on a guy’s face in my life. “What do you mean?”

Feeling somehow freed from some sort of long, self-imposed bonds from just having said that, in a moment of stupidity, I said, “Here, I’ll show you.”

It may not have been romantic, but I grabbed him by hand and led him to the public ladies room at the gas station next door. I pulled him in. He was understandably sheepish about it. Before I lost my curage, I pulled down my shorts and undies, and let a boy look at my horrible vagina for the first time in my life.

He saw it. How could he not? It sticks out an inch, and as I found out later, more like an inch and a half when I’m aroused. Lukar was at a loss for words as I pulled my shorts back up. Quite understandable under the circumstances. Finally, after perhaps a full thirty seconds, he said, “That’s so cool! It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

That was the last thing on earth I expected.

I guess you know where this story is going. Three days later found Lukar and I in my bedroom when my family was out on a two-day holiday. We were kissing and rolling around all over my bed. It was wonderful, but my heart was beating a mile a minute, knowing, or actually not knowing, what was coming next.

We got naked. Surprisingly, now that he had seen ‘it,’ I wasn’t terribly shy about him seening me all clothes-free. In fact, I was absolutely fascinated to see him naked. His penis became erect before my very eyes. As I had mentioned, I’ve been very sheltered. I had seen some penises on Wikipedia, however. Suddenly seeing his real, live penis, I understood the similiarity. I knew what I had. It was a little penis. Or at least similar. The peehole is just under it, not at the tip, but otherwise, it’s quite similar. In time, I even realized it becomes erect just like a penis.

He reached out and touched it. He put a fingertip on my big ‘ole clit. It was like an electric shock. A good electric shock. Just that simple touch was perhaps the most wonderful sensation I had ever felt in my whole life. Did I just imagine that, or was it real?

Lukar indicated I should lay down on the bed. He laid down backward next to me. His fascinating penis was almost against my face. Then he did the unthinkable. He brought his head to my vagina, and tentatively licked my giant clit. He did it again, and again. It was feeling so nice. So incredibly nice! Oddly, I started to get some sort of chill-like feeling throughout my body, but especially in my whole vagina. The chill grew stronger, and suddenly, I was arching my back, screaming, and feeling the most incredible pulsation-like feeling. Of course, you, dear reader, know exactly what I’m talking about, and I did kind of know what was happening. It was my first orgasm, of course. I mean, talk about sheltered. I had never masturbated, or even thought of doing anything like that.

It took me a long time to calm down. Lukar was patient and just held me as I shook, jittered, then cried, and finally laughed.

I’m no rocket scientist, but I figured he wanted something more out of the evening than to see me have an orgasm. Being communicative, I asked what he would like.

“What I want more than anything in the world, is to put my cock in your pussy.” I was a bit shocked by his language. “But, I’m not going to. Not tonight. We’re young, we have plenty of time. Instead, would you like to see a man have an orgasm?”

“I certainly would!”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he started moving the skin of his penis up and down, and within a minute, he was moaning, and several shots of white stuff came out of him. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. I mean, in reality, perhaps it was rather ugly. Like, here’s this thin skin, veiny thing sticking out of a guy, surrounded by unruly curly hair, and it’s spurts out a sticky substance. Who could think that was beautiful? Well I could!

I asked him to do it again. He gently told me that men need time to recuperate, and can only do it once. He promised I’d get to see that again soon.

We fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Over the next two days, I sure had a lot to think about. I figured out my vagina may be deformed, but it didn’t seem to bother Lukar any. We got together again. I thought it might be a repeat of that first time, but no, he had something else in mind.

We kissed for a short while, but both of us were too excited to stick with just that for long. Lukar broke away and pulled a small packet out of his pocket. To give you an idea how sheltered I had been, I was very curious as to what it was. I’m sure you’ve figured it out already. It was a condom. He unrolled it on his penis, while I watched, fascinated.

He had me lay down, and started rubbing his fingertips over my clit. It swelled to it’s full 32 millimeters. I was also getting unexpectedly wet down there. Suddenly, he pulled away, then kind of climbed with his big, heavy body right on top of me. I felt a kind of poking and hair-pulling sensation around my vagina. I wasn’t complaining.

Oh my! Oh, my gosh! My vagina stretched open as he worked his penis slowly in. It kind of hurt a little tiny bit, but I barely noticed. It was the most fulfilling feeling in the whole world. I had no idea anything could be like that. Now I know where the word “fulfilling” came from!

Even though now-a-days it takes more than intercourse to make me orgasm most of the time, I sure did orgasm that night. Almost immediately. And, he orgasmed inside me only a moment later. After we had our orgasms, I wanted him to stay in me forever, even though his body was kind of heavy. But it wasn’t to be. Soon, he softened, and his penis slipped out of me.

Time went on. He went west to college. I went east. We texted all the time. We even sexted. It couldn’t last. We both knew it.

I met another boy. I had no hesitation in telling him that he may be shocked by my huge clit. His eyes lit up not with disgust, or horror, but with excitement. He wanted to see it right away. He, like Lukar, was delighted. We fucked. It was glorious. We hung for a couple of months, but then amicably went our separate ways.

Time went on. I found that my lemon could indeed make lemonade. I became very proud of my super-large clit. Not only that, it always opened doors for me. I would look for an opportunity to mention my ‘deformity’ as soon as I could work it into a conversation with any guy I fancied, and soon enough, we were fucking our heads off!

Supposedly guys are into big tits, yet every one of these guys complimented and fell in love with my relatively tiny tits.

I went from a sheltered girl to practically a nymphomaniac. In college I shifted my major to psychology. That was so I could specialize in sexual psychology. I stayed in college because it was so much fun, even though my student loan was growing through the roof. In time, I recieved my Phd. I stayed on at the college as an assistant professor and then a full professor. I got married to another psychology professor. Like every man I’ve ever met, he was fascinated by, and loved my large clitoris.

We have two kids, a boy and a girl. They are lovely kids. Both geniuses, I’m sure. Well, they do get good grades, are rather athletic, and seem to get along nicely with everyone. Guess what the girl inherited? Yup, you guessed it. She will not grow up so sheltered. I’ll let her know what’s what as soon as she is ready to hear it. I think she’ll be delighted.

Editor’s note: I have seen her clit. I even asked her to get it hard for me. It is larger than usual, but not absolutely huge.

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Therapeutic Testicle Squeezing

This came from the AI component of Bing:

Squeezing the testes serves various purposes related to male reproductive health. Let’s explore why it’s important:

Testosterone Production:

The testes are responsible for producing the male sex hormone testosterone. Squeezing or massaging the testicles can stimulate blood flow and enhance the function of Leydig cells, which secrete testosterone1.

Adequate testosterone levels are crucial for secondary male characteristics (such as facial hair, body hair, and muscle mass), libido, sexual function, and fertility.

Sperm Production:

Squeezing the testes can indirectly impact sperm production. The testes are where sperm cells are produced through a process called spermatogenesis.

Proper blood flow and temperature regulation (which squeezing can help with) ensure optimal conditions for sperm development.

Scrotal Health:

The scrotum, which houses the testes, needs proper blood circulation and temperature control.

Squeezing or gently massaging the testicles can promote blood flow, prevent stagnation, and maintain a healthy scrotal environment.

Sensitivity Enhancement:

Squeezing the testicles can enhance sensitivity. Circular motion or gentle pressure can stimulate nerve endings in the scrotum.

Some techniques, like the stop-squeeze technique, can also be used to delay orgasm and manage premature ejaculation2.

Testicular Stretching:

Some individuals practice scrotum stretching to achieve a low-hanging appearance. While this is not a primary health concern, it can be done with caution.

Scrotum stretching involves using devices like leather straps, steel rings, or rubber rings to gradually stretch the scrotal skin over time.

Remember that maintaining healthy testicles and overall reproductive health should be the priority.

In summary, while squeezing the testes directly impacts testosterone and sperm production, it’s essential to balance any stretching or massaging practices with overall well-being and medical advice. Always consult a healthcare professional for personalized guidance.

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Gay Lewis In His Wheelchair

I wanted to become a photographer. I supposed any sort of photographer would do, but if my wildest fantasy was to come true, I’d specialize in photographing men. Naked men. But of course that was not to be. Someone who grows up like me in a series of foster homes doesn’t get any kind of a silver spoon.

I was so typical. I never graduated high school. I hung around with, well anyone who was cool in my opinion, basically loser dropouts. Maybe it was because I didn’t have parents to influence me. Maybe it was just my surroundings. But I had this photography dream. I was sure drugs and alcohol would kill that. So I didn’t even smoke cigarettes. I mean, I’ve had ugly dreams about finally making it as a photographer, then dying of lung cancer before I could fully enjoy my success. My friends though I was crazy. Maybe I was, but it just seemed less crazy than the shit they were doing.

Back to reality. I was not a photographer. Oh, I did take pictures, and was so thankful to be in modern times. Do you know that photographers had to mess around in dark rooms with chemicals until about 20 years ago? They had tanks and trays and things and had to keep everything just the right temperature. I think maybe I would have liked that. Who knows? On the other hand, they had to pay for supplies. Every picture they took cost money. How could they afford all that?

I did, however, have to earn a living. From my background, going to college was out of the question. I was not going to earn a living by selling heroine on the street corners. I was not going to steal anything. So what was left? Nothing, that’s what! Well, I guess there was the military, but that’s not really my cup of tea.

When I was really getting desperate, trying to decide whether the Marines, Navy, Army or Coast Guard would be the least objectionable option and worried about how they’d handle a gay guy, I came across an ad for a caregiver.

I knew there’s no way the guy would accept a gay, uneducated orphan, but I went ahead and wrote back. I mean, all it took was a minute to reply. One thing one of my foster mothers taught me is that if you try enough long-shots, something might just hit the target.

The guy wrote back all suspicious. I answered him anyway. He wrote again, I wrote back again. This went on for a week. I was actually enjoying the e-conversation, even though it wasn’t going to amount to anything. It’s not like I had something more important to do.

Guess what? They guy said, ‘Come on over.’

Well, I went on over. I was a half-hour late. I mean, I started out early enough, but the bus system here is, well, less than ideal. I figure that was the end of it. Half-hour late. Come on, like why did I even bother?

I rang the doorbell of a surprisingly large house, and it took like a full minute for the guy to answer. He was, just like I knew, in a wheelchair. I expected an all fat, pasty, bent-over guy. No, he was really quite handsome and not much older than me. Maybe mid-twenties.

He greeted me with a scowl. But it was a joke. He then broke into a big smile, and welcomed me into his home with open arms. That’s who Lewis is. He is always happy and friendly. How a guy who was born in a wheelchair can be like that beats me. I mean, if I had spina bifida, I’d be grouchy most of the time. Mad at the world. Not Lewis.

We talked. I told him about my dream to become a photograper. Of course I didn’t mention the part about wanting to specialize in naked men. I’m not an idiot. He told me about his business which he conducts entirely from a laptop. I didn’t realize it at first but the whole house was his. I thought maybe he must have had roommates to afford such a place. The money for the whole place came through a little 15-inch laptop. How cool is that?

To keep the length of this account reasonable, let me just say that I moved in as one of his caretakers. He has five. We each work 8-hour shifts, and kind of divide up the weekends. You’d think I’d get a swing shift, or maybe nighttimes, but I ended up working from 7:30 in the morning to 4:30, five days a week. You might find it interesting that the other four were all female. Later, Lewis admitted that he wanted me to be a woman also, but some of the women were having trouble lifting him, so he wanted the daytime caregiver to be stronger. That’s the guy who has to give him baths. Not my idea of a good time, but whatever, right?

A few weeks in, As I was carefully dumping him into the tub, I got the crazy notion to take my shirt off first. That’s because every time I got it wet, which was kind of miserable. Lewis complimented my abs. Whatever.

My pants were still getting splashed most of the time, plus I was doing everything at arms length, trying to adequately bath Lewis without getting wetter than I had to.

Lewis and I were becoming fast friends. Now, you’d think him being crippled and all, that I’d keep my distance or something. And I tried to, but I really enjoyed talking with Lewis. He was a brain and I learned a lot from this man who had seldem even been out of his house.

I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but one day I found myself bathing him in only my underpants, and all was well. A couple of weeks later, I decided that since he’s always nude during the baths, I might as well be also. Lewis didn’t complain. Far from it.

One day, out of the blue, he asked me what my cock looks like when it’s hard. I mean, he just came right out and asked. I kind of muttered some sort of nothing, like, “Oh, I guess it’s alright.”

Then, I don’t know what came over me but I just came right out and asked, “So with you and your condition, can you get erections?”

That was the door opener. He admitted that he gets sort of hard sometimes, rarely, but that’s all.

“What about orgasms?” I had to know.

Lewis, being the honest man he is just went ahead and told me. “From all I can see from porn and so on, it seems I don’t have orgasms like men normally do. Oh, I feel something. It’s kind of a very nice extended tickle. That’s all.”

I kind of knew, because he had told me early on that the reason he wears adult diapers is because he can’t feel his bladder. He doesn’t know when he needs to pee. It just comes out. Well, I was glad he could have some sort of orgasm. Maybe, and I wasn’t sure about this at all, the tickle thing he was talking about was an orgasm just like I feel. Or, maybe not.

He broke me out of my musings by adding something else that just floored me. I was like, ‘poor guy.’

“Because of my hands – you know the way they are – I haven’t been able to masturbate for years. In fact even as a teenager, it wasn’t very satisfactory.”

I was kind of tongue-tied. What do you do with a good friend tells you something like that? I sort of stupidly offered my condolences, as if someone had died. Then, as usual, I got him out of the tub, dried, dressed, and back into his wheelchair.

I was me who instigated the next sexual talk a few days later. “Hey Lewis, what about the four women? Have you ever asked for maybe a handjob from one of the caregivers?”

“I’m gay.”

Jeez! I had no idea. All this time, and I never knew. It was time for me to let my own cat out of the bag.

“Me too.”

“I know.”

“How did you know?”

“I just did. From the first day you gave me a bath. There was something. Something about the way you respected me. No, something else. Maybe the way you looked at me. Hell, I don’t know. I just knew.”

That was the end of the conversation. Neither of us said anything about it for around a week, although I felt like our friendship had gone to a much deeper level. Imagine having a friend who you can confide in like that!

Then, again at bath time, “Hey, do you remember when I asked what your cock looks like when it’s erect?”

“Um, yeah.” I mean how could I forget? I had jerked off several times remembering that conversation, and wishing I had answered differently. Like I could have said something like, “Sure, wanna see?” But no, stupidly, I just mumbled something and let the moment slip away.

“I was serious. I want to see it hard.”

It doesn’t take an engraved invitation. “Well, OK then!” I answered, laughing. Sitting right there on the side of the tub, I started stroking and was erect in less than a minute. It was somehow glorious to have him intently watching me like that. A moment later, I was yelling with joy and squirting cum into the tub.

After I calmed down, I knew I couldn’t leave it at that. What about Lewis? So, I carted him into his room, laid him on his bed, and gave him the blowjob of his life. I knew it was the best he ever had, because by his own admission, he claimed he had never had a blowjob.

I think, but am not sure, that he got a little bit erect in my mouth. I didn’t care. His soft dick was very nice to suck on. Oh, I had sucked my fair share of good and firm dicks at the various foster homes, but I actually enjoyed his soft little thing more.

After maybe five minutes, Lewis started kind of squirming and moaning and laughing too, and with his barely effective hands firmly pushed my head away. He had an orgasm. His version of an orgasm. To this day, I don’t know if he had cum in my mouth or not. If so, it was only a drop or two.

Time went on. Our afternoons turned into a regular thing. It got to where I was butt-fucking him on a fairly regular basis, and he was loving it. One time – just once – he sqirted cum out just like a fully-functional example of maleness. It was a delight to see.

Speaking of maleness, he was a grand example. Oh, he couldn’t operate a drill, pound nails or even type with all his fingers, but he was a man, through and through.

One of his female caretakers, Sylvia, was of Hispanic descent, and beautiful if you like the female form. Somehow, she didn’t know he and I were fucking around. With my cock buried in his ass and my tongue in his mouth, she burst into his room one day with an armful of clean clothes. She was paralized with one hand on the doorknob, and just stood there for like five seconds, before turning away and closing the door.

I was mortified. Lewis on the other hand, just laughed, saying, “She’d have to find out eventually.” A few days later he reported that everything was the same as usual with her, although she admitted happiness knowing that he was getting some sexual outlet.

I was still a hobbyist photographer. One day I brought my camera. I thought Lewis would enjoy seeing it. He asked whether there was film in it.

“It’s digital, silly.”

“I know, it’s just an expression. I mean, do you want to take some pictures?”

“Of what?”

“Of me. Didn’t you say you’d like to take pictures of naked men. Well, I’m naked.”

Why had it never occurred to take pictures of Lewis? Of course, what a great idea.

So I took a bunch of dignified pictures of him in his wheelchair – naked of course. I also took pictures of him on the sofa, curled up in his bed, and even some with a self-timer of us together. One showed me with an obvious erection. My god, even though he and I were having all the sex we could eat, I jerked off big-time that night to my own picture.

Little did I know he was going to post pictures of himself – none including me – online. He said something about a ‘wonderful photographer’ taking the pictures.

One day, he just came out with, “Do you remember when I first took your cock in my ass?”


“Did it seem easy to you?”

“I don’t get it.”

“I mean, you’d have expected to have to go really slowly with a virgin, right?”

What the fuck? What was he saying?

It took a couple of minutes during which Lewis seemed unusually shy. Then he told me the whole story. Unlike me, he has a father. I’ve met the guy. He seems really nice. He’s obviously loving to his son. I’ve met his mother also. Good people.

“When I was still with my parents, they expressed concern that I wouldn’t have a normal sex life. Ok, well I have to admit this. When I turned eighteen, they came to me one day and wanted to know to what degree I could function sexually. My own parents, by God! Of course I was shocked, but I trusted them. Over the course of weeks, we enbarked on a set of experiments to see what could be done. They both tried giving me handjobs, testicle massages, fingers in the butt, oral sex and so on. It ended up with my father butt-fucking me while my mother watched. I loved that, but it freaked them out, so it only happened once.

You might think I’d be mad at him for not telling me before, but after being shocked for a moment, then trying to imagine the scene of my dear Lewis getting butt-fucked by his father with his mother looking on, it made me very horny. I was more in love with Lewis than ever.

Time moved on. We considered legally marrying, but it seemed too problematic. However, for all intents and purposes, we were married.

One day the phone rang, not for Lewis, but for me. He handed me the phone. It seems a gay couple who had seen the pictures of Lewis that I had taken, and wanted me to photograph them. They owned an art gallery. It was to be their anniversary present to each other.

I asked if Lewis could watch the photoshoot, and they were delighted. Frankly, I was nervous. I had never actually done a truly professional photo shoot before. I had arranged a couple of stools in the seldom-used family room in the big house, had the men remove their clothes, and expected them to pose various ways on the stools. One of the guys was immediately erect. The other became erect a moment later. I took the pictures while Lewis not only watched, but clapped his crippled hands together in hooting, laughter and applause.

Not knowing anything about the actual busines of photography, I emailed the guys their photos, and charged them $100. Later I found out that as a celebrity photographer, I could have charged ten times as much.

Did I mention ‘celebrity’ photographer? Well, here’s what happened. They printed the photos, hung them in their gallery, and sold prints almost immediately. That in turn brought me more business to the point where Lewis and I bought the house next door and turned it into a studio. It’s been four years, and I have people flying in from all over the world to have their photos taken. You’ll note I said ‘people’ not ‘men.’ Whereas I prefer men, a number of lesbian women and hetero couples have me photograph them as well. I don’t mind.

One final detail: Two of Lewis’ former female caregivers had their pictures taken with clothes on, and have now embarked on their own careers as models.

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Sexual Caregiver
This is not my guy, but this gives you an idea

Orphans are not treated well in America. Until about age twelve I always believed the BS about being likely to be adopted. By sixteen, even though I was a cute girl with good manners, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. By eighteen, I was just itching to be released from the institution. That’s what I call it, because it wasn’t all that different than being in jail. Just finding a place to do something simple, like masturbating, is a challenge when you live with that many other kids.

On the other hand, I wasn’t looking forward to release at all, because what would I do? I knew for the first time in my life, I’d be so totally alone and I needed to support myself. With my lack of credentials there’s no way I’d get into college. I mean, I would have become a nurse if it had been possible.

The day came, and I still had no idea what to do. I was literally out in the street. No one had any suggestions, no one did anything for me. I found some cardboard behind a factory, and that’s where I slept, shivering in the cold, for nine days.

My only posession was my cracked-screen cell phone. I didn’t even have cell service. All I could do was go over to the library and use their wifi. I looked at Craigslist. What else was there? It was really quite hopeless. I had actually replied to a couple of ads, like for cleaning a house or loading a truck, but the people didn’t even have the decency to write back.

I had $87 when I left the institution. Now, I had $3. I was hoping to sell my phone. That might buy a couple of days worth of food.

I saw another ad on Craigslist. Some guy was wanting a live-in assistant. Well, that would be perfect, but I doubted he’d write back. No one else did.

He wrote back! I did my best to get cleaned up in the library bathroom, and went over there. It was 85 degrees out, and I walked the seven miles. I was a half-hour late and sweaty. I couldn’t believe it, just couldn’t believe it, when he gave me the job!

So this guy, Lewis, was in a wheelchair. What he wanted was someone to help him prepare and eat his meals, to help him with bathroom chores, getting in and out of bed, bathing, and that sort of thing. I could do that!

Now I figured he was some sort of creep. When you grow up in an orphanage and the occasional foster home, you come to believe that all men are creeps. But what choice did I have. I decided that no matter what he did, I’d treat him well. After all, he was willing to take me in and give me a job!

I didn’t lay out my whole situation to him. It would have been too embarrassing. But I think he had a general idea. Within 20 minutes of my arrival, he pointed me to his kitchen and said “Help yourself.”

I tried not to be a pig, but I was hungry. I did help myself! I didn’t even prepare anything. I was just that hungry. I grabbed some milk, an apple, and a slice of pie in his fridge and just ate like a maniac, meanwhile trying to hold on an intelligent conversation with him, as he rolled into the kitchen and watched me eat. Oddly, he seemed quite happy to see me eat.

He showed me to the bedroom that was to be mine. It was nothing special, but it was fine. He asked when I was going to bring the rest of my stuff over. I pointed to my backpack, and said, “It’s all in here.”

Days turned into weeks. We got on famously. Oh, at first it was kind of embarrassing, maybe even icky to take care of some of his needs. You don’t know gross, until you have to wipe another person’s butt. But I did it lovingly. Lou turned out to be a nice man.

He never came on to me. Not once! The closest he got was when I was bathing him a couple of times. His penis became erect, but neither of us said anything about it. I was frankly surprised that he could do that. I thought paralyzed people couldn’t have erections. It turns out there’s quite a variety of paralysis. Some people can’t use their hands at all. Lou had minimal hand function. Like, he could work his tablet once it was placed on his lap, but he couldn’t grab it off a table to put it on his own lap.

Weeks turned into months. A strange evolution happened. First, I was joining the human race. I felt like I was somebody, not just an unwanted orphan. I had joined a literary club on Wednesday afternoons. They accepted me as one of them. I had a degree of self-esteem for the first time in my life. Then too, Lou and I became fast friends. I mean, I’d rather sit at home and eat ice cream with him, just talking about whatever, than go out and party, or anything like that.

Another evolution was about bathing. Everytime I got him in the tub, I couldn’t help getting wet. Water would just splash on me and it was rather bothersome. One day, it felt OK to remove my shirt, just bathing him in my bra and shorts. He said nothing. I can’t explain it, but that charged me up. It made me kind of horny. Later, when I was alone in my room, I masturbated to a very nice orgasm somehow imagining myself being fully naked while bathing Lou. Crazy, eh?

Well, it happened. Within a few days, my shorts disappeared before bath time. I was just in my underpants and bra. Then, it just seemed natural to be topless, and finally bottomless. It wasn’t that weird, because of course Lou had always been naked during bath time. So this was just a sort of solidarity, right?

I didn’t really notice at first, but Lou was erect more often, and stayed hard longer during those baths.

I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me sooner. One day as I was frigging myself like crazy in my room, I suddenly realized, Lou must feel like me at times. He must get horny. But with his hands, I doubted he could do anything about it. Oh my god, I’ve been failing him!

The next time I bathed him, I did a little something more than just perfunctorily wiping the washcloth over his penis scrotum and anus area. I lingered on his very erect penis. He didn’t complain. Quite the opposite, he laid back with a very contented smile and moaned softly. I continued the attention and started stroking the cloth up and down along his erection. It took all of ten seconds for him to start spurting cum. I knew what it was because I had seen some of the boys at the orphanage showing off their ejaculations.

After he settled down, Lou was embarrassed, even ashamed. I did what I could to tell him that I was very happy for him. That all was well, in fact, probably better than ever. I also let him know in no uncertain terms this would not be the last time.

As soon as I got him dry and settled into his chair with his iPad where he could do his financial trading, I ran to my room, still stark naked, and just masturbated like a crazy woman.

The daily bathing ritual continued. Every day, I’d get us both naked, and get him really clean, inside and out. I didn’t need the washcloth as a shield between my hand and his cock any more. I stroked him directly. He didn’t cum in ten seconds any more. He could now hold it together for minutes. I can’t tell you how much, even without any reciprocation, that I enjoyed doing that for him.

The evolution continued. I found myself getting fully into the tub with him, and pressing his very erect penis between my boobs. And, in time, you guessed it. We had intercourse.

It didn’t stop there. I used to be totally uninterested in oral sex. It seemed cocks were somehow unclean, but since I was the one washing him, his seemed very clean to me. I sucked it with great satisfaction. When he licked my vagina for the first time, my clit was in absolute heaven. My whole body was in heaven. When he does that to me even to this day, I feel repeated orgasms in my whole body.

In time I became pregnant. We married. Today we have two beautiful daughters.

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Penis Captivus

penis captivus

It is possible but rare for a woman’s vaginal canal to clamp down so hard on an erect penis that the blood cannot leave the erection, so the penis stays hard, and the man is literally stuck in the woman’s vagina. This always resolves after a short while.

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Monica Develops Some New Treatments

By Spurtz

See The First Monica Post: Home Health Exam

Hi, it’s Monica, your friendly nurse practitioner, with another report on my various home visits. To refresh your memory, a nurse practitioner (NP) is just one step below a doctor and typically makes $35,000 to $40,000 a year more than a registered nurse. My particular specialty is performing home health visits to primarily Medicare patients. These visits are typically performed on an annual basis.

In my last report I detailed how during one of my home health visits, I had been exposed to a patient’s impressive erection and ended up masturbating him to a glorious ejaculation. This was way outside the norm and I could lose my license if it was reported. But after a guy cums, he’s not usually interested in reporting it.

However, once I realized that my job had perks that I had never considered before, I wanted to explore the possibilities that were potentially available to me. Keep in mind that the majority of my visits are to men 65 years of age and older. Most of whom are overweight and unattractive. But a small percentage of them are very fit, good looking, older men. With those men, I’ve found that when an attractive young woman like myself shows even the tiniest amount of sexual interest, it is eagerly accepted. My sexual interest always starts out as totally benign and is disguised as a medical procedure only.

I have to be extremely careful in how far I go. Once I get into marginal areas, an uptight patient could report me and I would not only be out of a job, I would also lose my license. So as I am proceeding into questionable areas, I am very, very particular about how much nudity I ask for.

For example, I have two procedures that I perform that are not part of my regular exam. But my patients don’t know this. And even when I bring up the procedures, many men are hesitant to let me do it. Under those circumstances, I go ahead with the standard exam, but make no attempt to take it further.

But some men have no problem with these exams and then I know that there is the possibility of going further than the law would allow. The two exams are checking for hernias and checking for an enlarged prostate. I always start with the hernia exam which requires the patient to undress and expose his genitals. Usually during the exam I might have to move his penis or testicles out of the way when going from one side to the other checking for a hernia. I can instantly tell if the patient is okay with what I am doing. A very few uptight guys might have some objection to me handling their junk and I never take those exams any further.

But most men will start to get an erection. When this happens, they always start to apologize but I quickly let them know that it’s not only normal, but it’s actually appreciated by me. I always tell them that as a woman who knows she is attractive, I would be disappointed if they didn’t get hard. I usually have my fingers wrapped around their cock when I tell them this and without fail I can feel it getting harder. Then I will massage their nutsack telling them I am looking for any abnormalities as their prick rises to full attention. This nutsack inspection is a legitimate exam. Depending on my mood, I will usually tell them that as long as they are fully erect, it’s probably a good idea to see if they can produce a normal ejaculation. Most are amazed that I am proposing to jerk them off to an orgasm but nobody has ever said not to do it.

As you can imagine, my patients love it when I proceed to give them the best handjob they have had in years. If I find the guy particularly attractive, I will manage to slip a lubed finger up his asshole while jerking him off. You can’t imagine how grateful these men are after I’ve milked every last drop of semen from their now wilting pricks.

But sometimes I stop before getting to the masturbation stage and I will tell them that my records show they are due for a prostate exam. And that as long as they are already disrobed, now would be a good time to do it. Now giving prostate exams is definitely not part of my list of procedures that I am supposed to do. But I did have training in med school. The school had two men; one with a normal prostate, and one with an enlarged prostate. Each of the students had the opportunity to insert a finger in each guy’s rectum in order to feel the difference. So I do know what an enlarged prostate feels like.

To perform the exam, I have a heavy duty sheet that I put down over the patient’s bed that keeps any stray fluids from staining the bed coverings. Then I have the patient lay flat on his back, and draw his knees up as far as comfortably possible. This still doesn’t give me the perfect access to his anus so I have a special pillow that goes under his butt that gives me a better shot at that special spot. This also put the patient in a very vulnerable and somewhat embarrassing position.

Many doctors prefer to have the patient lay on his side and draw one knee up to give access for a prostate exam. But I do not like that position because at that angle I could only see balls and no cock. And as you will find out, seeing the cock was the most important part of the exam.

Once my lubed finger penetrates the patient’s ass, his cock immediately gets hard. Some quicker than others. Once I find the prostate, I tell them that there was a minor indication of enlargement and that recent medical studies have shown that frequent massaging of the prostate could stop or limit the enlargement. Then I ask if it was ok to go ahead with the massage. By this time they have gotten over the initial negative feelings of a finger up their butt and are starting to like it, and they always tell me to proceed. After much experimentation in the past I had learned exactly how to massage a prostate to produce a spectacular cumshot. I had a longtime boyfriend who loved to have his asshole fingered and after hundreds of ejaculations through prostate massage, I was an expert at it.

Note that some health experts feel prostate massage is beneficial. There is no definitive proof that it actually will reduce an enlarged prostate but my patients don’t need to know that.

As I worked my magic I would tell the man that this prostate massage would likely produce an ejaculation and not to worry about it as it was totally normal. Positioned between his legs I could look down and see his throbbing erection and sure enough, pretty soon he would be spurting streams of semen all over his stomach and chest. Some guys shot so hard it would even hit their face. I was so good at the prostate massage that I have been able to get every single patient to orgasm with great looking cumshots that I love to see. There is something about seeing streams of jism shooting out of all those dicks that turns me on so strongly, that I orgasm on my own just by watching.

Note that sometimes I do detect an actual enlarged prostate. I inform the patient and then suggest he see a urologist for the proper medication. But I go ahead and provide a prostate massage anyway. It’s the least I can do. Note that as an NP I can legally write prescriptions but I tend to keep that to fairly mild situations. I prefer the patient see a specialist for prostate issues.

After it’s over and they lay there totally drained, without fail they would remind me that I had said frequent prostate massages were beneficial. They all wanted to know “how frequent?” My answer was that the ideal timing was every three months but that was probably not realistic so every six months was still productive.

Every guy wanted to immediately book a return visit in three months. But I pointed out that this procedure was only covered by insurance on an annual basis. The next question was could they pay for it themselves and if so, how much was it. My response was that I got paid $400 for the regular visit but to come back just for the prostate massage would be $300.

I know that accepting money to make these guys cum means I am nothing but a whore but I don’t really see it that way. I am providing a healthful service that also gives some needed joy to my older patients.

I am now up to three or four of these special prostate massages a week and have difficulty fitting them into my regular nursing schedule. So I have started doing them on weekends. Sometimes three in the same day. It’s bringing me an extra $50,000 to $60,000 a year tax free. I only accept cash and do not provide receipts. Call me if you need a prostate massage. I still have a few spots open on Sundays.

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Home Health Exam

by Spurtz

My name is Monica and I am a nurse practitioner. But I work a bit differently from the average nurse. Here is an abbreviated description of an NP:  As clinicians that blend clinical expertise in diagnosing and treating health conditions with an added emphasis on disease prevention and health management, NPs bring a comprehensive perspective and personal touch to health care.

What I do is perform home visits to older patients who are on Medicare. We recommend an annual visit to each member. Some people feel our service is a bit redundant if the member visits a regular doctor frequently. But the thinking is that any early prevention we can come up with can save the insurance company tons of money down the road on older patients.

Although not required by my employer, I make a quick “get acquainted” visit with each of my patients ahead of time. This is just a five minute “hi, how are you” type of contact a few days before my normally scheduled visit which is much more comprehensive and can take up to an hour or more.

The next patient I was scheduled to visit was a 72-year old man. When I met him at the door to his house I couldn’t believe his age. He could easily have passed for someone 15 or more years younger. He was a very handsome guy who looked to be quite fit. We talked for a bit and I told him I would be back in a few days for the complete physical.

The next time he answered the door, I was frankly shocked to see that he only appeared to be wearing a yellow T-shirt and white socks. I knew he didn’t have any pants on because the head of his cock was clearly visible below the bottom of the t-shirt. He quickly apologized for the way he was dressed but explained it away as knowing he was to undergo a complete physical and figured he would skip right to the “undressed” part of the exam.

Frankly I wasn’t buying it but figured it was best to proceed with the exam. I had serious concerns about doing something that was way beyond the norm. But I figured if he got too frisky I would just demand he put some pants on. But on the other hand, I was curious just to see how far he would push the exposed cock exhibitionism.

We went into the living room and sat down on the sofa. I told him that I had a number of questions to ask before we got into the actual physical part of the exam. As I got my paperwork in order I looked down at his crotch area and saw that the T-shirt had settled across the top of his thighs which put his entire penis and testicles in clear view. On initially seeing the glans of his penis, I had figured he was pretty well endowed but I didn’t really appreciate how huge he actually was.

One of the first things on my list was to review all of the medications he was taking. This is an important step in order to make sure that he isn’t taking any meds that don’t mix well with any of the others. I had been given a list of his meds from the insurance company but sometimes this information is not totally up to date. We ran down the list and when we got to the last one I saw that is was Sildenafil which is a generic for Viagra and was listed as 100 mg which is the most powerful dosage available. Since I deal with older individuals, it’s not uncommon to see this med listed so I am quite comfortable discussing it even though most of my clients are not.

It’s important to find out how frequently the med is used so I asked the question. He replied that for regular daily masturbation, he doesn’t need it as he can achieve firm erections without it. But when he is with his girlfriend, who he said was much younger than he is, he likes to take it for staying power. However, he pointed out that since the 25 mg, 50 mg, and 100 mg doses all cost the same, he buys the 100 mg dose and cuts them into quarters as 25 mgs work fine on allowing him to maintain a nice hard penis for the extended sessions his young gf prefers.

Even though it was none of my business, my curiosity would not stop me from asking how old she was. I was surprised to find out she was only 35.

During our conversation I noticed that his penis had begun to enlarge. Although I had been in doctor’s offices when a male patient’s penis was visible, that never occurred on these home visits. We didn’t perform any exams that involved total nudity or where the patient’s genitals would be exposed. Even at a doctor’s office it was a requirement that at least two people from the medical staff had to be present any time a cock was visible.

However, this patient’s attitude and demeanor was so casual and unassuming that the whole thing seemed somehow acceptable. I also found that seeing his cock slowly grow was quite a turn-on and I was in no mood to call a halt to the proceedings even though I knew we were way out of bounds.

I wanted to keep the conversation on a subject that would continue to excite him as the discussion of his sex life with his girlfriend obviously did that. As his prick continued to enlarge, I wondered just how big it would get. I then pointed out that he had said “daily masturbation” and then asked if that was an accurate statement. He replied that even aside from regular sex with his girlfriend, he still tried to jerk off at least once a day but more often twice a day. He went on to say that his girlfriend gets off on seeing him produce copious cumshots so in order to keep her happy, sometimes he will go a day or two without orgasming and do a little edging so when she does jack him off, he can get off a huge cumshot.

My curiosity was killing me so I asked how far he could shoot and he said that he could spurt a stream of cum at least five feet. I then asked him if he was to masturbate right now, how far did he think he could spurt? Only one or two feet was the answer but my husband was more of an dribbler than a shooter. I couldn’t remember seeing any of my former lovers even shoot two feet.

I knew it was wrong but by now his prick was a good eight inches long and the head was shiny and bulging. I was dying to see him shoot a load of semen and despite knowing it went against everything the medical profession stood for, I asked him if he would masturbate for me. Even before the words were out of my mouth he had started stroking his big cock. He looked at me and grinned and asked if I would like to help out?

I couldn’t wait to wrap my hand around that massive member and start to pump it. I couldn’t believe how amazing it felt to have a cock that thick in my hand. My fingers flew up and down the length of his throbbing penis. The head was a bright purple and seemed to be getting even bigger. I noticed that the floor in the room was some expensive tile so I didn’t need to worry about where the cum would land once he started ejaculating.

I wanted it to last so every time he got close, I would slow down or even stop. One time I even let it go and was mesmerized as I watched his distended penis bounce up and down on its own. But then I couldn’t wait to get a firm grip on his prick and work my magic. I felt his body tense up and then he started convulsing back and forth, just like he was fucking somebody. I gripped his rock hard penis even tighter and worked my hand up and down in a blur. I was rewarded with a powerful stream of cum that shot out with more force than I had ever seen before. Spurt after spurt squirted from his lovely cock. As long as he shot, I just kept pumping. Finally the streams slowed to dribbles but I kept going. I wanted to jack every drop of semen from his penis. Finally his cock got too sensitive and he pulled my hands away. I wanted to hold onto that wonderful phallus for as long as possible.

I leaned over and kissed the head of his cock, licked up any stray cum left on his prick, and finished by taking the head in my mouth and sucked him dry. I pointed out that he had told me he was only going to be able to shoot a foot or two. And that he easily had exceeded three feet. He replied that the quality of the handjob had a lot to do with how far he could spurt.

He laid there for a few minutes, obviously exhausted. He offered to bring me to orgasm with his tongue but I told him I already had orgasmed twice just from the excitement of jacking his big dick.

After a bit of downtime, we got our acts together and resumed his home medical visit without any further sexual activity. Or so I would like everyone to believe.

See also: Monica Develops Some New Techniques

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One stitch closes vasectomy puncture about 2 hours after the procedure.

Vasectomy was first performed in the early 20th century, with the first recorded procedure taking place in 1899.

The word “vasectomy” is derived from the Latin word “vās,” which means vessel, and “ectomy,” which means removal.

Vasectomy is one of the most commonly performed urological procedures in the United States.

It’s estimated that over 500,000 vasectomies are performed annually in the United States.

The idea of male sterilization dates back to ancient times, but the modern surgical procedure we know as vasectomy has evolved significantly over the years.

Vasectomy is often referred to as “the snip,” “getting fixed,” or “having the tubes tied,” although it doesn’t involve tying any tubes.

In some countries, vasectomies are often performed as part of family planning campaigns to control population growth.

While vasectomy is considered permanent, it can be successfully reversed in some cases. However, the success rate of reversal decreases with time since the vasectomy.

The first successful vasectomy reversal was performed in 1938 by Dr. Harry K. Moore.

Vasectomy doesn’t cause immediate sterility. It takes some time and ejaculations to clear existing sperm from the reproductive tract.

The sperm that is produced in the testicles doesn’t simply disappear after a vasectomy; it’s reabsorbed by the body.

There are different techniques for performing vasectomies, including the conventional scalpel method and the no-scalpel technique, which uses a small puncture instead.

No-scalpel vasectomy is generally associated with less bleeding and a faster recovery time compared to the traditional scalpel method.

Some men experience post-vasectomy pain syndrome, a condition characterized by persistent testicular pain following the procedure.

The risk of pregnancy after vasectomy is very low, but it’s not zero. A small number of men can experience spontaneous reconnection of the vas deferens.

Vasectomy doesn’t affect a man’s ability to maintain an erection or have an orgasm.

The procedure itself is relatively quick, usually taking 20 to 30 minutes.

Vasectomy is typically performed under local anesthesia, so the patient is awake during the procedure.

It’s not uncommon for men to experience anxiety or nervousness before getting a vasectomy, despite its routine nature.

Vasectomy doesn’t impact a man’s sexual desire or libido.

Some men report an increase in sexual satisfaction after vasectomy, possibly due to reduced anxiety about unintended pregnancies.

Vasectomy doesn’t alter the appearance of the scrotum, except for a small scar that may be barely noticeable.

While vasectomy is usually considered permanent, some men opt for sperm banking before the procedure to preserve the option of future fertility.

The cost of a vasectomy varies but is generally more affordable than other long-term contraceptive methods.

Vasectomy does not protect against sexually transmitted infections (STIs), so safe sex practices may still be necessary.

It’s crucial for men to use alternative contraception until a follow-up test confirms the absence of sperm in the ejaculate.

The first few ejaculations after vasectomy may still contain sperm, so it’s essential to continue contraception during this period.

The procedure is relatively low-risk, with complications being uncommon. Possible complications include infection, bleeding, and chronic pain.

Some countries, like Canada, offer vasectomy as a covered medical procedure under their healthcare systems.

Vasectomy can be a thoughtful and responsible choice for couples who are certain they do not want more children, offering a highly effective method of contraception.

Remember that vasectomy is a permanent decision, and it’s crucial to consult with a healthcare provider to discuss all aspects of the procedure before making a decision.

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Annual Gyno Exam Gone Crazy

Annual gyno exam gone crazy

I went to my annual gynecological exam. The doctor inserted her speculum in my vagina and did the usual things. She kept brushing against my clit, so naturally I became aroused and wet.

She announced,”Well, I’m going to have to wipe this away,” and laughed.

She didn’t use a cloth. In fact, she took off her gloves, and ‘mopped’ my girl juice around my clit with her fingertip. Then she leaned forward and started kissing my vagina. Finally, with her tongue, she gave me a crashing orgasm. It wasn’t the first time she has done this. Far from it.

“How could this happen?” you ask.

It turns out this particular doctor is my sister. While she went to medical school, I went to law school. We’ve been playing with each other’s vaginas since before I can remember, so I believe under the circumstances, what this doctor did to me was perfectly acceptable. Do you agree?