Saturday, March 29, 2014

Tickling the Testes

Last weekend I met up with a friend for a movie and dinner.  Per usual I was running late and had to hurry once I got out the shower to quickly dress and get to the cinema before the previews started.

I hate missing previews.  When they come on I like to quickly air clap and whisper to my friend “Ooo wee I love previews.” It usually gets me a hateful leer but friends are supposed to tolerate the quirks of their friends and this is one of mine.

After the previews and the movie got underway I slowly moved in my seat for a more comfortable position when I felt a slight pinch down there… below the waste and above the thigh… in the crotch area. It was a subtle pinch but it got my attention.

I kinda liked it.  It was unexpected and it sent a nice sensation through the region.

Without anyone noticing I ever so slightly wiggled my hips to reproduce the sensation. It felt better the second time.

The only way I can describe it was that it was a tickling of the testes. The right one, not the left, to be exact. The kind of tickle you get when a gentle touch, like a breath, seductively blows over the area.  It was foreplay, but in this instance there was no way it could go any further than it had.

I was hooked and wanted more.

I wiggled enough to enjoy a prolonged tickle.  I closed my eyes and uttered a low-voiced tight lipped “ooh.” My friend shot me a “what the fuck are you doing” look. I motioned to the screen  as if I was totally into the movie.

And then as quickly as it happened it stopped.

After the movie it was off to dinner and then out for some gelato. 

It wasn’t until I was heading to my car to go home that I felt a sharp movement in my crotch. This wasn’t a tickle. This was a stabbing and it wouldn’t stop. I had no choice but to immediately unzip my pants right there in the parking lot and reach in and cup myself until I found out what was causing torment to my testes.

And that’s when I felt it. Something hard.

I pulled it out of my pants…

It was my Fitbit, my pedometer that measures the steps I take each day.

In my haste to not be late I had hooked it to my underwear as I ran around my apartment getting dressed. (I never want to miss a step.) Unfortunately it didn’t hook on the waste band and every so slowly slid down my crotch.
 

I quickly zipped my pants, and that’s when I noticed I had walked nearly 13,000 steps (over six miles) that day. Yeah!

True story.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

The Wishing Pole of Hollywood

The other day I was driving around Hollywood when I noticed something strange wrapped around a Street Parking Sign Pole.  It wasn’t the best part of Hollywood and I should have been a bit cautious, but undaunted and full of carefree curiosity, I parked my car and wandered over for a closer inspection.


The Street Parking Sign Pole was wrapped with dead tree branches, and on those branches were lots of little pieces of paper with writing on them. I sniffed the tree branches anticipating a memory-filled Christmas Tree scent. They smelled like dead branches and made me cough.

I looked around to see if anyone was watching me, then I realized I was in Hollywood where if you’re sniffing something nobody really cares, and if they catch you sniffing you just have to invite them to sniff along with you.  Luckily no one was around me so I didn’t have to invite anyone for a sniff.

On one side of the attached paper pieces was printed “Make An Unincorporated Wish!” 

With eager fingers I began turning over the pieces of paper to read the wishes.  
I wish for a loving kind husband.
My desire will be a success.
I choose to be successful in music!
Some of them were horribly misspelled, but instead of snickering at the spelling errors and using a sharpie to correct those errors, I was overcome with a warmth that ran from my head to my toes that tickled my spine and filled me with swollen joy. 

I then genuflected in front of The Wishing Pole of Hollywood and made a few wishes.

I didn’t wish for world peace and harmony and more music from Helen Reddy.

I didn’t wish for getting through the next twenty levels of Candy Crush Saga on the first try.

I didn’t wish for an unlimited supply of Girl Scout Tagalongs cookies.

Oh no… my wishes were much more profound.

Now I won’t tell you what they were but if you find that pole you can certainly see them for yourself.

All I’m gonna say is the next time you see me I might be a bit taller, have a fuller head of hair, six pack abs, a porn star’s strut, and driving a new Mercedes.