Limp Dick Syndrome - Part 1
Pierre et Gilles
Commonly known as E.D. (erectile dysfunction - Bob Dole's cause célèbre), or the ugliest of ugly words: impotence. yuk.
I prefer the much more disrespectful, almost puckish, "limp dick syndrome." Okay, it is rather puerile, but it seems so much more approachable.
All that to say, I had it. Well, technically I think I've still got it, but it's being treated so... I've got what?... a recovering boner. After freeeeeaking the fcuk out, I did some online research which pretty much convinced me I was suffering from phsycological, rather than physiological LDS. I then called and talked to 4 close friends and my sister immediately. In speaking with them, I was able to allay my worst fears and sort out how I even became afflicted with it in the 1st place. Hell, I'm a healthy guy in his 30's. What gives? I haven't had it before, and why NOW? Now when I've met someone I REALLY like?
Phase 1)
As you may recall, I have been dating a new guy. It has quickly become evident to me that he might just be "the one." After about 2 weeks of blissful passion, I began to feel slightly self-conscious of my body. I exercise and look normal, but compared to my new Corvette boyfriend, I feel blobby, like a station wagon. He's sweet, cut perfection to me - like cotton candy AND a Harry Winston diamond. Anyway, the point is, my head started talking to me. You know the old angel on one shoulder, devil on the other? Well, my li'l devil started yaking about my imperfections and I got a little paranoid. My Corvette did and said everything he could to convince me that he loved all of me the way I am, but you know li'l devils on shoulders - they're pretty fcuking persistent. Incidentally, my Corvette has got a monster of a ccok that spews like Mount Vesuvius. Well I'm, like I said, normal, so when you go up to bat with a champ like that, it's pretty intimidating. One good thing about me, though, is that I usually last a good long while, which can mean at least several minutes of luxurious sex - jk - hours. My Corvette is often ready to pop off before I am, so after he shoots to kill, I'm left with what I feel is basically a monologue in my hand. But he's so sweet and thoughtful and is totally into doing whatever I need to pull up the rear and finish the show. That was okay for the first 2 times, but then I started feeling a lot of self imposed pressure to hurry, and pretty soon I surrendered and said that it would take me too long and that I would cum next time. BTW, before I started worrying about my body and comparing it to my Vette, I was a copious shooter with a great long distance record - to the delight of my partners. So add all the critical, self imposed worry together and you start to see this train wreck taking shape. My best friend, Missy, said she saw it coming a while ago.
I prefer the much more disrespectful, almost puckish, "limp dick syndrome." Okay, it is rather puerile, but it seems so much more approachable.
All that to say, I had it. Well, technically I think I've still got it, but it's being treated so... I've got what?... a recovering boner. After freeeeeaking the fcuk out, I did some online research which pretty much convinced me I was suffering from phsycological, rather than physiological LDS. I then called and talked to 4 close friends and my sister immediately. In speaking with them, I was able to allay my worst fears and sort out how I even became afflicted with it in the 1st place. Hell, I'm a healthy guy in his 30's. What gives? I haven't had it before, and why NOW? Now when I've met someone I REALLY like?
Phase 1)
As you may recall, I have been dating a new guy. It has quickly become evident to me that he might just be "the one." After about 2 weeks of blissful passion, I began to feel slightly self-conscious of my body. I exercise and look normal, but compared to my new Corvette boyfriend, I feel blobby, like a station wagon. He's sweet, cut perfection to me - like cotton candy AND a Harry Winston diamond. Anyway, the point is, my head started talking to me. You know the old angel on one shoulder, devil on the other? Well, my li'l devil started yaking about my imperfections and I got a little paranoid. My Corvette did and said everything he could to convince me that he loved all of me the way I am, but you know li'l devils on shoulders - they're pretty fcuking persistent. Incidentally, my Corvette has got a monster of a ccok that spews like Mount Vesuvius. Well I'm, like I said, normal, so when you go up to bat with a champ like that, it's pretty intimidating. One good thing about me, though, is that I usually last a good long while, which can mean at least several minutes of luxurious sex - jk - hours. My Corvette is often ready to pop off before I am, so after he shoots to kill, I'm left with what I feel is basically a monologue in my hand. But he's so sweet and thoughtful and is totally into doing whatever I need to pull up the rear and finish the show. That was okay for the first 2 times, but then I started feeling a lot of self imposed pressure to hurry, and pretty soon I surrendered and said that it would take me too long and that I would cum next time. BTW, before I started worrying about my body and comparing it to my Vette, I was a copious shooter with a great long distance record - to the delight of my partners. So add all the critical, self imposed worry together and you start to see this train wreck taking shape. My best friend, Missy, said she saw it coming a while ago.
posted by Thomas at 15:13
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