Cosh

I've just developed a spontaneous boner while reading a book on overcoming low self-esteem. Looks like it raised more than my confidence.

It wasn't the sturdy engine of old, lacking its former almost painful firmness and only just managing six inches against its former eight, but it again suggests that my old friend is still capable of standing up for himself and has only been battered into submission with a chemical cosh.

Hard to believe I'm celebrating a soggy erection that's the first in months when until 5 years ago I'd have several a day. Hard also to believe that as a teenager I'd sometimes get an embarrassing boner just looking at a pretty girl and would have to sit still somewhere until the damned thing stopped tenting out the material of my school trousers.

Getting old is shit.

I remember when I was a teenager, I'd lie in bed just before going to sleep, and wonder when I would find a girl, and usually console myself by having a relaxing wank thinking about Natalie, or Joanne S1lver, or Lynne S1mpson, or my Art Teacher, Jean S1ddall - who must be 65 by now, what a thought, she was barely 30 then - and it was all I could do to stop myself hosing a jet of semen against the far wall or the ceiling. Young and fit.

Such problems I should have now.A million potential lives in every squirt. There must have been a girl somewhere who would have been happy to make some of them with me if only I had looked harder for her. If only I hadn't felt so ashamed at wanting to fuck her.

I was so full of - well - spunk -  in both senses of the word - and nowhere, or no-who to go to with it.

A sad thing about life is that it takes so long to learn - or unlearn - lessons, and sometimes by the time we learn them it's too late for us to put them into practice.

And so I am alone.

What a waste.