Interlude with Garth

“I hope you know this is what millions of men fantasize about.”
“I didn’t know that you had a million of men wanting you.”
“Yeah, well now you know. Millions, plural. World wide.”
“I’m honored then.”
“And so you should be.”

Garth’s balls have really shrunk. He’s six feet three inches tall. Over four-hundred pounds. A man that size has big balls. When he lies down, each ball spreads over to the adjacent thigh. Usually I have to open my mouth to its fullest to engulf one ball and then I maneuver in the other. I figure I must look like Louis Armstrong at his most inspired.

Holy shit. In the fucking light, it’s a real turn off.

The night before, “So, you’re sure you’re coming over in the morning.”
Yes.” (I wasn’t sure.)
“Alright then.”

In the morning my back hurt. A stabbing pain shot down to my ankle. He told me to lie on the floor and realign my hips. If I had listened to him and hung upside down, I might be better by now. But what did he know anyway? He phoned back to invite me out to lunch. I accepted which was unusual for me especially at mid-day.

He took me to Swiss Chalet on Bayview Avenue. During the meal he made some comment about Jews.

“What did you say?”
“I said . . .”
“What? You said what with a Jew whom you just happen to fuck sitting right in front of you?”

He said that once again I had ruined both a perfectly good meal and his intentions. We hardly talked as he drove me back to my rented condo. Later, I worried that he might still be angry, so I called him at his office and asked ever so politely if I could come over, it would please and thrill me and so on. Then we had that interlude. Actually I was glad I did it. I was tired of crying. He could feel I was dripping wet right through my jeans. He didn’t even need to use lube which he kept in his top bureau drawer at home anyway. A day later he admitted it had been such a turn-on, although with him you would never know it. He’s such a closed man.

His balls had really shrunk.

After The Interlude

Garth calls at 7:26 a.m. I’m concerned about his balls.
“But how do you know they’ll grow back?”
“They’ll grow back.”
“Yeah, but how do you know?”
“I had a kid, didn’t I?”
“But that doesn’t mean they’ll grow back. Except if you know from past experience.”
“I do.”
“What? They got this small?”
“Smaller.”
“Oh my god, you’re kidding!”
“About the size of raisins.”
“Shit. You must have freaked out. You gotta be kidding.”
“Nope. I was really worried actually.”
“And how long does it take them, to grow back I mean?”
“About a month.”
“Well, that’s a relief. Cause they’re about half size now. Will they get much smaller?”
“Not much. I have only four to six shots left.”
“That’s good to know then.”
“I actually phoned to ask you how you’re feeling today.”
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“Uh huh.”
“Not sore at all?”
“Nope.”
“I’m surprised.”
“Yeah. Well so was I. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting that.”
“To tell you the truth, neither was I. It just happened. Did it feel OK, towards the end?”
“Well, I was scared, you know, because I didn’t think that natural was as effective.”
“You should’ve trusted me. I was watching the whole time, to make sure.”
“Easy for you to say. I thought I was going to be split open like Catherine the Great. You think spit works just as well?”
“Where do you think they imitated the synthetic from?”
“Wow.”
So when did it start to feel good?”
“When you said, 'Stop fighting me.'”
“You were wiggling around so much. I couldn’t aim properly to get it in.”
“It was fucking scary. You used to be proud of how little you had to use, remember. I never thought that you’d be using nothing at all.”
“Neither did I really. So you’re OK?”
“Yeah. Except my throat is sore.”
“Interesting.”
“Damn straight!”
“You sure they won’t get much smaller? I miss them, you know.”
“You’ll have them back. Don’t worry.”
“If you say so.”
“And if you put this in your book, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Garth gets off on ass fucking without lube. I get off on a dare.