My Balls by Alex Sandell

I think it's time to talk about my balls. I've been tapping and typing up crap for this page going on 13 years now, and have never really given any time to my nuts. Sure, I've talked about the efforts they've made as I've had sex with this lady and jerked off over that - but they've been pushed into the background like character actors or *gasp* scenery. It's time for them to shine. It's time for them to sparkle. It's time for them to be stars!

About 3 weeks ago there was a gigantic blizzard in Minnesota. We received nearly 4 feet of snow in less than 48 hours. A few months prior to this blizzard, my girlfriend insisted we save money by switching to a smaller garbage can. Now, a few months later, that smaller garbage can was overly full. It was worse than full -- it was backed up with excess garbage waiting in the wings. Did my girl -- who insisted on this smaller, cheaper can -- bring the garbage to the end of the driveway with 4 feet of snow by herself? Of course not. Did she insist I drag it down there without offering any help whatsoever? Absolutely. Did I agree to do such a stupid thing? Take a guess. A man needs to get laid.


There I was -- a man, his impending boner, 45 inches of snow ... and his 70-pound garbage can. A garbage can filled to the point of overflowing 3 times over (stuff was packed down so hard, I wondered if the garbage man would be able to shake it all free). Holy Christ, this thing was heavy. And I pushed it 35 feet. Through 4 feet of snow. Stopping every couple of feet to essentially "hug" the can and lift it over the 5 foot piles of snow it was creating. All this strain for some potential vagina. What guy would do differently? You? I didn't think so. Unless you're gay. But then you'd do it for anus. Different hole, same idea.

After lifting, pushing, tugging, pulling (sounds like the sex I was hoping for), the can made it to the end of the driveway. But my balls -- the stars of this update -- didn't fare as well. They hurt. Like a bitch. It felt like a midget was standing in front of my crotch head-butting my nuts over and over and over again as he sang about Lollipop Guilds and yellow brick roads. It hurt that way all night ... and then it just kept hurting. That invisible, head-butting midget turned out to be one persistent bastard.


After a week of non-stop nut-pain, I decided to do a Google search for something profound, such as, "non-stop nut-pain." Found lots of frightening things (and you wouldn't BELIEVE what I discovered about midgets -- pervs!). The most frightening being cancer and a medical testicle distortion called TORSION. Torsion is where your sperm-strings wrap around your testicle like a vengeful puppet master, strangle it, and kill it dead. That was enough for me. It was time to visit urgent care.

After giving me a "semi" that left me feeling simultaneously humiliated and aroused, the urgent care doctor told me that torsion was unlikely but cancer of the nuts was a possibility. I was also told my slightly erect penis was "no problem" and that it "happens all the time." "It's perfectly natural," I was promised as I privately contemplated whether or not suicide over the ordeal was equally "natural." An ultrasound was ordered to, "be on the safe side." Supposedly it was "non-invasive." What I wasn't told was that a hot female would spend 30 minutes cupping my balls with one of her hands while rubbing lube over them with the other.


About a week later (would have been a day, but I kept rescheduling out of fear, embarrassment and the fact I kept sleeping through my appointments), I showed up in the cancer ward of the hospital to have my balls rubbed. I preemptively shaved my scrotum just in case a woman did the job. Smart preemptive move on my part (take that, George W. Bush, you incompetent ass with all your lousy preemptiveness), as my name was called by a fuckable chick who told me she would be the one playing with my privates. My now hairless, immaculate privates.


We went into a room where she told me I could leave my shirt on but was to remove my jeans and underwear. I took my pants off and she dimmed the lights (although it felt like she was setting the mood, I think it happened so she could better see my balls on her monitor). She gave me a towel to put over my prick as "this ultrasound only calls for the testicles." Oh man, did I use that towel to my advantage. As she slowly rubbed my nuts with liquid ("at least it's warm," she said - not that warm HELPED), I pressed down hard on that towel at the first sign of arousal. I was crimping my boner!


After 10 or 15 minutes of ball-rubbing (with both her hand and her ball-rubby thing), she asked me to "loosen" my grip on the towel so she could, "go further up." I let go, she rubbed hot oil on my shaft and "it moved." Thoughts of Dick Cheney, Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck were all that saved me from a full-on erection (I knew those right-wing Nazis were good for something). This may be male ego -- or it may be my perfectly shaved scrotum turning her crank -- but I swear if I had asked she would have removed her pants, sat on my cock and provided the happiest of happy endings ever found in the ultrasound room of the cancer ward.


Keeping this medical procedure professional was like a new form of torture. Especially when she loosened up and started using "nuts" and "balls" in place of "testicles" and "scrotum" and "dick" in place of "penis" during what was becoming a casual conversation (a casual conversation occurring as we both stared at an ultrasound monitor revealing my balls). At this point I felt warm from my neck to the top of my skull. I think, for the first time ever, I was blushing. I hadn't been this horny since I was a teenager. And still, I had to keep myself at least semi-limp.


To keep my dick swinging instead of standing at attention, I jokingly said, "It's a boy!" as the monitor revealed my nuts. I then said, feeling my joke was slightly lame, "I bet you've heard that one before." She was honest and said she hears it quite often. She then took a breath, looked at me and said, "But never delivered quite as well." I could feel the breath she exhaled all over my phallus. So warm. So welcoming. My face and neck stopped being so red, as the blood rushed down to my cock. Never ... when you're rubbing his genitals ... tell a funny man he's humorous. Never. Fighting this erection was like Luke Skywalker resisting joining his father and the Emperor in Return of the Jedi .... next to impossible.

BUT I KEPT IT SOFT (sort of).

My next move was to ask her if I could get some pics of the ultrasound. I asked her if she had ever been asked for photos of nuts during a nut exam. She responded, "No -- that one I have never heard." And she chuckled. Her chuckles throbbed in my cock like a heartbeat (luckily she didn't have the sound on on the Ultrasound). Oh, did I want to let go and let my penis grow to maximum size. But I didn't. I kept it under control and under 7 inches. I'm not sure if she was ever aroused or if she noticed my arousal, but I'd like to believe she secretly wrote down my contact number and is ready to take this all the way. Can you really play with a man's genitals for 30 minutes and have it mean nothing?


Since that day, I've dreamed of her. She did reveal something scary -- I have 3 cysts on my immaculate nuts. At least 1 of them is larger than they "would like" (she told me not to worry about it until someone who hasn't bounced my balls around for half an hour gives their diagnoses). If it turns out I have testicular cancer, I'm going to find her. I'm going to take her in my arms and rekindle the magic that we had between us over that 30-odd minutes. If that happens and my girlfriend objects? That's what you get when you bust your man's balls to save $6.00 a year for a smaller garbage can and make him push that fucker out during the worst snow-storm in 2 decades.


I realize 99.999% of males have ejaculated, gone limp, grown erect and ejaculated again while reading this (my heart raced while writing the thing, and I lived it!). Don't worry ... it's natural. Why are we so ashamed? We're built to impregnate. Sure, we rarely want to, but it's how we're built. If you cum in under a minute, you're just doing your job. A LAME job, but you're still doing it. Could you hold out for 30 minutes without getting fully hard? Better practice ... you never know when your balls will need to be caressed by a sexy stranger for 30 minutes, "just to be safe."

Love it? Hate it? Want your nuts rubbed? Email Alex!

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©2010 Alex Sandell [All Rights Reserved]. Copy this without my permission and I'll politely ask you to suck me off ... starting with my smooth, smooth balls!