Reading the recent blogs on here made me reminisce about my penis.

In my earlier single days, I had an extremely high sex drive (now I require release only twice a day).

I was making my weekly trip to the bank by my university, and much to my delight, they had a new teller working the counter.  Now, to clarify, she was fucking smoking. She was older than a girl, but not quite a milf.  She sat somewhere in between. 

By the luck of the gods, I was graced with her serving me in queue. She smiled as I walked up to the kiosk, I smiled back.  We engaged in every day conversation regarding the business at hand, but were both throwing in subtle sexual innuendos wherever we could. 

I couldn't fucking believe my luck.  After arranging to meet at her place "for a drink", after work, I took my boner and got the fuck home to make preparations for the evening.  I shit, showered, shaved my entire body, busted out the baby powder, and packed enough condoms to last a fortnight.

When I got to her place, the small talk was non-existent...and neither was my stamina.  I was so raging horny that I blew my load so fast that it was borderline Forrest Gump.

After issuing the requisite empty apologies, I retreated home to ponder my failure.  I called my best friend for some advise.  Luckily for me, he was as stoned as a Jamaican on Father's Day when I told him my story, so I had to endure fifteen minutes of laughter and ridicule. 

It was worth it though, for he had a solution.  Downtown, there was this Guyanese head shop that sold potions, lotions, and some shit called "China Brush". You rub it on your kook, and it gives you a raging hard on for hours.  YES!  VINDICATION WOULD BE MINE.

I called her the next day and TOLD her, not requested, that I'd meet her at her place after work.  Before I left, I carefully coated my entire unit with this China Brush shit.  By the time I made it over to her place, I was packing a shaft so hard that I could ram a six inch spike through a four inch block of hardwood.

"Ding-Dong"......"Ding-Dong".........."Ding-ding-ding-ding-fucking-dong"...This went on for about ten minutes before I realized that the bitch was either not home, or just plain not answering.

I'll never forget walking home, with my coat wrapped around my waist to conceal my situation.

More so, I'll never forget the work out my right arm got that night, nor the world record setting degree of redness and chaffing I subject myself to in order to rid myself of my condition.

Good times.