If I Could, I Would Hover While He's Making Love To You

I always had a handsome and very well-endowed cock, In Junior High, whenever us boys had our wielding workshop hour, and the ranging hormones would make the teen aged guys show off their cocks, and their masturbation techniques, I was king.

I do not know if it was genetics. I was taller than my father. I had relatively smaller feet than the rest. But my cock was huge and porn-like shaped. They all admired it. But to me, it was a big problem, all puns intended. To fit in the skinny jeans that were in at the time made it impossible for me to sit normally. But I indeed liked the bulge in my crotch. Nicely shaped and apparently, both boys and girls enjoying looking at it.

I had never had any problem with my penis. On the contrary, it had always been an advantage all throughout my life. Until the day I went to visit my best friend in Berlin.

I arrived in Berlin. It was my first time in Europe. I had some friends in the capital of Germany and I was in town for a few days visiting them. 

I felt sexy in Berlin. I thought I fit right in. The streets and buildings were all very different. The people weren't as I had always imagined Germans. They were relaxed and somewhat friendly. The autumn leaves were everywhere on the ground padding my every step towards sex, drugs and rock music.

I lit a blue camel up and puffed while I headed down Eisenbahnstraße.

I entered the Black Bar. The only thing that wasn't black were the golden bird cages decorating the tables. Rammstein echoed in the blackness if this place.

"Der Jüngling steigt den Berg mit Qual

Die Aussicht ist ihm sehr egal

Hat das Röslein nur im Sinn

Bringt es seiner Liebsten hin"

My friends were sitting at the very back of the bar. They drank beer and smoked the same brand of cigarettes like me. No wonder why I had chosen them to be my friends. They had been there in my darkest hours. And they had always liked me and I think they also liked to secretly look at my bulge. I didn't mind.

We drank and caught up with our lives after years of not having seen each other. We drank beer and 

Jägermeister chasers. We drank White Russians and talked about how different our lives had become. You see, after High School, the world changes your. You do things that set you apart from the rest and sometimes you cannot related to the people anymore. But not us. We talked about fucking, drinking and drugs,

We were a successful bunch that distance could not keep apart. 

We talked about going to a sex club after midnight. We talked about a bar that has a needle dispenser for junkies. And we smoked weed.

I asked my friends about the local costumes and about the food. Sausages and Sour Kraut. Beer and Berlin. Too much drinking had led me to have a full bladder ready to leave my body.

So I headed to the men's room. To my surprise, there was only one bathroom. 

A unisex bathroom, that's cool, I thought.

The walls were black, the sink was black and even the toilet was black. But there was no urinal.

So I unzipped my jeans and walked towards the toilet seat only to find a sign. There were no words written, only a stick man pissing standing up crossed out. 

When in Rome, do as the Romans do, I thought. So I sat and tried to piss sitting down.

What an ordeal. My cock, being porn-like big did not fit inside the toilet with me sitting down.

I thought of how horrible it would be for me to catch some disease in my cock for having touched the bowl with my dick.

Fuck, I said.

I stood up and pissed standing.

What was a guy with a big cock like me supposed to do while taking a leak in a Berlin toilet? 

Hrms Etc

30.11.2014

Go On & Smile, You Cunt!

Waking up to the forever-painful-reminder-of-having-drunk-way-too-much-wine-and-having-smoked-way-too-many-cigarettes-and-more-than-one-puff-of-white-widow was, strangely enough, becoming a habit.

It was 10:17 am and the birds were singing outside. I could hear their goddamn conversations as if they were sitting next to my left ear. I was always able to hear better with my left ear. It was like when women tell you that one of their tits is bigger than the other, or when serious looking people tell you that they have one arm or leg longer than the other. But for men, it's always the balls. One is always hanging lower than the other 'cuz it's bigger and produces more sperm, so that is why it's bigger and heavier. For me, it was my hearing abilities. I could hear better with my left ear.

I was still drunk, sweaty and I had this strong urge to piss. I could't get up. It hurt to even think. The noise outside felt like atom bombs exploding inside my skull. This had to be what if fells like when you die, or when you are born. Everything was so painful. The light, the sounds, the thoughts. Had I been born again?

I tried to recall the events that took place the night before. I just remembered I had tons of red wine. Fuck, I needed a cigarette. 

I managed to get out from the painful comfort of my own bed. I looked for a cigarette in a futile attempt to numb myself out of this all. I searched everywhere but apparently i had ran out of smokes. Deep inside my shoulder bag there was an almost destroyed joint. Not what I had been longing for but definitely something I could puff on, and maybe something that would help the pain go away.

I took out my zippo lighter and lit the crooked joint. I began smoking mother nature's remedy.

Soon I felt better. As if I had just begun feeling the booze kick in. It was nice. So I made my way into the toilet. I needed to release some pressure from my bladder. I lowered my briefs and took my cock out. I never liked wearing boxers. I had always liked to keep my cock and balls concealed into a nice bulging shape. Hence avoiding the uncomfortable feeling of my nuts jumping all round when I danced.   

I was sweating alcohol. With my left hand I held the joint. With my right one I held my cock. I puffed another white cloud of this miraculous medicine. I looked down and tried to aim my piss at the center of the toilet bowl. I didn't want to miss the spot. 

A nice, almost transparent discharge of piss came out of my cock making me feel  somewhat aroused. 

This was the side effects of drinking too much red wine, I thought.

I could smell the alcohol leaving my body in the form of urine. I exhaled what seemed to be a white wind whirl byproduct of the widow I was smoking.

I continued to piss. And as I did, I could feel my cock getting harder and harder. The feeling that you get when your cock is getting bigger, in your hand, someone else's mouth or in your pants, is something so amazing to try to describe it.

I began shaking my dick, as men always do when they are done pissing. All I could think of was my friend's almost wise words: "A mouth is a mouth. As long as a mouth is wrapped around your cock, you don't really care if it's a dude's or a chick's". All I could think of was that I wanted a mouth to suck on my hard cock. Goddamn red wine, I thought. It always makes me so fucking horny. I began to masturbate.

As I continued stroking I realized that this was not my toilet. And that someone had been standing behind the ajar doors long enough to catch a glimpse of me and my cock. 

A mouth is a mouth, I thought to myself.

Dick Pound

4.22.2014

How To Use A Toilet (Explicit Version)

He would go to work every morning. Always on time. Always wore freshly ironed clothes with the right amount of cologne, not to draw too much attention but to leave a trail of sweetness in the air as he walked by. Every morning he would wake up to the 6:30 alarm clock. Like a Brit always on time. Exact and elegant.

His day would start up with him walking into the shower and for precisely 9 minutes, he would wash his body. The first thing was to get the water to the right temperature and then he would let it rinse him from head to toes. A gentle squeeze to the shampoo bottle to have just about enough to wash his grey short hair.

He would continue then with the shower gel. Always a different scent. For he had pretty much all the different available types of shower gel available in the market. He would scrub each inch of his aging body and he would do it in circles as instructed by his dermatologist.

After ironing his white Oxford shirt and putting his Bedford jacket on he would step into the kitchen to fix himself something to drink before hitting the street like any other normal day. A freshly brewed cup of coffee would get him started. Ready for yet another day at the office. He was calm and never said much.

One would notice his arrival to the office. He was always a very polite kind of man. A true gentleman.

"Good Morning everyone", he would say

"Hello, Dick", the secretary would reply.

"How was your romantic evening with your husband"

"Uneventful, he went on to explain to me the benefits of eating meat"

"Oh, he still doesn't understand that you will continue with your vegan food, huh?

"No, he refuses to understand that meat is murder"

"Well, have you prepared anything vegan for him yet?"

"He won't eat anything healthy, he is all about meat and potatoes, his breath reeks of death"

"Oh, And how's everything else?"

"Terrible, his cock won't get hard"

"Oh my"

"It is terrible. All I want is to have a baby so that I can have an excuse not to work in this shitty place"

"Yeah that is a good reason"

"But, Dick, what can I do for him to stop eating dead animals, and for his cock to work?

"Have you guys tried going to the doctor?"

"Yeah, I go there every week to have my colon cleaned, but he won't go with me. Only my mother understands the importance of having a clean and healthy colon"

The morning coffee would have already kicked in at this point of the conversation. Luckily for Dick, the age and caffeine didn't mix well anymore.

"Excuse me, I have to use the men's room", he said

"Oh, sure go ahead", the secretary said with a smile and a confusing wink.

This time, Dick was calm. He did not stare at the mirror. And  he did not cry and tremble as he would every time he had to use the toilet before proceeding with his manly business in the toilet. He went straight to the urinals and took a leak. After all the urine had gone down the drain, he moved back to the sink where he washed his hands, taking enough soap to create enough foam to get rid of all bacteria efficiently. Two paper towels would do the trick of wiping his hands dry. 

As he left the men's room that day and made his way back into his office, he thought about his plants at home and how lovely they all looked from outside his window. All placed strategically on the inner ledge of the window to have just about the right amount of light and shadow.

"Oh my gosh", an annoying loud voice came out from the main office, "don't you ...", bam, Dick closed the door behind him.

"Excuse me, I did not hear you", said Dick in his usual friendly way

"I said: Oh my gosh, don't you have a toilet in your flat?", replied his boss

"I do not follow", answered Dick

"Don't you have a fucking toilet in your flat?", shouted the female dressed in clothes that looked somewhat dirty as if she had slept with them on all night.

"Why do you always have to go to the office toilet every morning", she went on, "it is not possible that you do not have a toilet in your flat, for god's sake", she said.

"Right. About the toilet, I wanted to show you something. It is vital that you do something about this. You cannot let our clients see this. It is really strange. Won't you come with me?, Dick asked.

"Fuck, what now?, last week it was Meredith's menstruation's blood all over the ladies room. What now?. I bet you left a nasty and stinky floater. Fuck, Dick, can't you use a toilet correctly, flush the goddamn toilet. Why are you so fucking dumb?. I am surrounded by incompetent and ugly people. Look at me I am so fucking important. I run this office. Look at my legs, they are perfect. Men ask my for my phone number when I walk through the park. I am more beautiful that this vegan cunt behind the reception desk. Fuck, why am I surrounded by all you fucktards."

She stood up from the desk in the dark office where she pretended to work every day. She walked towards reception and signaled Dick with her right hand to go on and show her whatever he wanted her to see.

"Show me now, I do not have your time to be fucking around", she roared.

"This way", said Dick. "It is the strangest thing I have ever seen. You have to do something about it. It is disturbing, it makes me cry everyday." he said while leading the way into the toilets. The female followed mumbling something to herself. 

Once they were in the men's room, Dick pointed at one of the toilet cabins. She went in frowning in her usual way. Trying to look for whatever Dick had told her was there. She sniffed and moved her body as if she was a snake. Dick stood closely behind her. 

"What is it, Dick?", she said. "I do not see anything strange", she went on.

"Right there, next to the base, can 't you see it?", he replied.

Dick's boss bent over, and it was then when Dick jumped her, grabbing her by the neck and pushing her ugly face into the toilet bowl. She kicked and threw punches at the air. Dick was bigger and stronger than her.

"I do have a toilet in my flat", said Dick while using all his strength to keep his boss's face under the toilet water. "And no, you are not beautiful, you piece of shit, you are nothing but a terrible person", whispered Dick.

The woman kept on struggling. All in vain. 

"I will now be able to work in peace", Dick thought. "Everyone will be happier when you are gone, bitch."

There was water all over the floor. Dick grabbed his boss's head, lifted it and crushed it against the white toilet edge. Soon, all the struggle stopped. And blood started to gush as if it had been wanting to escape its vessel for quite some time now. Dick, an all English man, didn't want to make a mess, so he moved the head directing the blood right into the toilet bowl. Soon, he knew that she was dead and the world would be a better place.

Hermes Coldwell

21.3.13

(Dedicated to R.T)

 

Shit Happens

The night seemed to last forever. And there I was. The O2 Arena was full of the most bizarre people I had ever seen. All gathered there to dance to the beats of Paul Van Dyk. It was not a place I would have chosen to be that night or any other night. In fact, I never thought I would ever pay to attend such a concert. I was more of a rock music type. Beer, smokes and at least 3 power-chord songs decorated with spit and vomit would make my day.

But no, I was at an Electronic concert. I was an alien to the whole subculture. People there didn't look normal. What was normal anyway?. I must admit that some of the attendees had a good taste for looking somewhat off. They all looked like the cool kids in my high school thought they looked like, even though they never quite did.

The place was huge and it was full of people, mostly wearing white clothes with a touch of darker colors giving them a slick accent that in the dark of the night certainly seemed attractive to the eye. They were practitioners of the Techno lifestyle deception. Mystifying their flaws under million lights shining the darkness away for short whiles. Covering up their scars and empty carcass like bodies with make up and expensive looking garments. 

There was something odd to this crowd. It was not the kind of music they adored. The music was ok. There was something wrong and obscure. I couldn't figure it out. So I moved to the bar, located at the side of the dance floor. Surprisingly enough, getting booze was easier than I had expected. People were everywhere, but the bar was not on their map.

"One beer", I said.

"One hundred crowns please", replied a lady with pink hair. 

One hundred crowns, for a beer, "that's fucking expensive", I said to myself. I took my wallet out of my green converse bag and reached for a 200kc bank note. I paid and grabbed my plastic cup with beer inside and I walked back to my spot near the stage.

Again, it was quite easy to move back and forth from my place by the stage to the bar and back again. This was something new to me. There was no mosh pit and people pushing their sweaty bodies against mine at all time just to be closer to the stage to catch a glimpse of their favorite rock stars.

People were everywhere, but it seemed that they had a designated spot to dance freely with no human touch to bother them. Without mixing the salty sweat of the ones around them. For God's sake!, not even spit was being projected out from their mouths. It was organized chaos. And they all looked perfectly in their white pants and white tank tops.

I kept on repeating my routine of going to the bar and getting beer with no effort. "It is great", I thought. The music continued and the people never stopped dancing. My feet hurt. The show was boring. Instead I decided to watch the people around me and try to learn some new steps for the next time I had to dance. They danced in ways I had never seen people from this country dance like. There was something totally wrong about the whole thing.

After 4 beers I decided to hit the toilets. 

That was a journey. Unlike going to the bar for beer refills.

It was like everyone had to go to piss at the same time. "Maybe there is free goodies", I thought. After having pushed my way through I stepped inside one of the many men's rooms.

There were no free goodies. In fact inside the party had taken a different turn. And then, only then, all my suspicions came to an end. 

There were about 10 urinals lined up on the left across from the toilet cabins. There were 5 sinks and a huge empty white hall. All the urinals were taken. All the doors to the cabins were locked. I had to wait in a well organized queue. Behind me, still queuing, the guys danced to their favorite tunes. At the sinks, the guys danced as they washed their hands. And at the urinals, the guys decided to stop dancing and concentrate on something which seemed to be the cause of this party being different.

"Hey, do you have some cocaine?", asked the guy behind me

"Hmmm, no I don't sorry", replied politely

"What about some speed?", he went on

"I am out of speed", I said, trying to fit in

"Anything to smoke?" he inquired

"Just cigarettes"

"Can I have one?", I nodded and gave him one. I took my lighter out and lit a small greenish flame. He lowered his head and lit his cigarette.

"Thanks", he said while exhaling a large cloud of carbon monoxide.

"Yeah, sure", I said and turned around trying to find an empty spot for my urine. 

"Hey, care for some weed?", he asked

"Hmmm, yeah why not" I fired back, "do you have any?"

"No, I don't, but my friend has some good shit"

"Well, let me pee and I'll meet you outside"

"OK"

Some dude finished doing business with the urinal and walked back to the concert hall. It was my turn to finally piss the shit out of that urinal. 

So, I unzipped my pants and took my penis out. Oh it was good, too much beer had to be drained from my system. Then, I heard a loud moan. It was the guy taking a leak right next to me, on my left side. I couldn't avoid turning my head and looking at him. With his right hand he was rubbing something on his gums, and with his left hand he was holding a large cock that was far from passing unnoticed, even if you are one of those men who do not like to look at other men's tools at the toilets. 

"Damn", I thought, "is it hard or is it just a big chunk of manhood he is holding out there?". He went on moaning. His breath became harder and shorter as if he felt an orgasm coming. I directed my sight back on my business. Then I turned my head to the right, and saw that the guy next to me was also looking at Moaner, and then at his cock. And then I saw on his face the same expression I thought I had made when I saw that tremendous dick.

The guy on my right quickly finished pissing. Moaner continued to moan."He must be having a pig orgasm", I thought. Immediately, the urinal on my right was being used, or abused again. And I continued to urinate. 

Soon I heard a sound similar to what tic tacs make when you take them and place them on the palm of your hand. Everyone in that place was doing drugs. Moaner seemed to have finished as the moaning had stopped. His place filled up almost immediately. I was nearly done too. So I shook my dick, concealed it back into its place and headed to the sinks.

It was then when I heard it. An angry woman shouted: "Fuck you, I told you not to come inside", I halted as the door from one cabin opened and reveled a young woman in her 20s storming out with her face smeared with different fluids and colors. The guy sat on the toilet with his pants down and a face full of disappointment.

"These people certainly know how to party like rock stars", I said to myself. "Will I end up doing something similar if I smoke that joint?". I washed my hands and left to get myself a nice cold beer and continue to enjoy the decadent party that still had lots to offer.

Coldwell

5.2.13

In The Middle

I sat uncomfortable at our table. There were strangers and our nights had become somewhat inclusive. However, I really miss the way those nights unrolled. There was no work talk. Not that anyone cared about it but I think I kinda did. We would talk about France and wine tasting. Ostrava and its night life. Mexico and the fact that nobody rides donkeys when they commute.

I liked this place. Rodeo Drive had become the place to go after work. The food was totally different from what you could find everywhere else. Beer? I didn't really care as long as it kept on coming. I liked to have Fish & Chips. The real thing? nah, but it did the trick. Tasty and plentiful.

This night offered more than the usual. In addition to the French man, the German and the Czechs. An American newcomer happened to be there. Sitting right next to me. I had seen him before at McDonald's carrying a food tray with more food that I could ever even think of buying. Even for two people. It was too much food. "Maybe he is here with a group of friends from work", I thought to myself while waiting in line and following him with my eyes. "No, he is alone", I sighed.

Most of the conversations would start with my stories. Sometimes the Czechs would share information on new places where we could meet up the following Friday. Sometimes the French one would surprise us with his thick accent and a joke. I really never had a problem with his accent, but he would often ask us if his accent in English was American or truly British. We didn't care. We liked him for who he was and his accent would always put a childish smile on our tired faces.

Sometimes, we would make plans for the weekend. Not that night. That night went towards one of the most bizarre nights I had ever lived through.

"Circumcision", someone said. We all looked at the American. He went on by expressing how sad he was of not having had the choice, when he was born, of saying no to the removal of his foreskin. The German quickly try to change the topic of conversation by talking about french vineyards. Of the beautiful weather of south France in the summer. French cheese, "it is delicious", she emphasized with a mouthwatering sound. Her plan did not work at all. American boy had our attention.

"That's why next Spring, I will have my foreskin reattached", he said. We all were in for a hell of a story. A friend of mine removed her glasses and stared at him. She was intrigued by such statement. Somebody asked foreskin guy, "wouldn't it hurt a lot?, I mean, to..." she paused. I was just sitting there waiting for the right words not to sound like a complete dick. Pun intended.

There we were, at our favorite place discussing foreskins and skin grafting to cover some dick's second head up with skin from some unfortunate organ donor whom American Foreskin dude hoped had the same complexion. "It has to look natural",he added.

"All I want to do after my surgery is to go to some baseball game", he said, "like the Yankees or the Cubs"."Man up", I said to myself. 

"Are you from from New York?", I asked

"No, I am from California", he replied

"And you like the Yankees?", I continued

"No, I just can't help to imagine what it would be like to be there for a game"

"Yeah, lots of people, I don't like places with more people than it is necessary"

"Listen, every time I am pissing", he paused, "I have this urge"

"Urge?"

"Yeah, I have always thought about doing it"

Everyone was there just listening to our little conversation. It was like when you were a child and someone would go and tell you a horror story about some brutal killer on the loose, and the narrator would just continue to elaborate a story that is supposed to be short. The killer kills and that's it. Yet a good narrator always builds up a state or condition of mental uncertainty or excitement, as in awaiting a decision or outcome,usually accompanied by a degree of apprehension or anxiety. He was a good one, even though his story was about his trying to put a hood on his German war helmet.

"You have always thought about doing what?", I inquired

"You know, when I am pissing, especially in a public toilet, I always use the urinal in the middle"

"Go on", said one of my friends

"So, yeah, I wanna go to a Yankees games, and during the 7th inning, head to the men's room. Imagine how packed it would be", His eyes shone in excitement

"I would go straight into the men's room, unzip my pants, take out a gigantic black dildo and slap it against the urinal"

Everyone went mute. 

"Imagine the other guys' reaction", he added.

"It has to be one of those stainless steel urinals", he continued, "Imagine the sound it'd make".

Coldwell

22.1.13

The Sound Of Pissing I

When I was in college, I was always afraid to urinate when girls were around. I was afraid to pee directly into the toilet bowl because I had the feeling that girls judged the size of your cock by the sound of the flow, and I didn't want any kind of judgment going on. So I would always pee on the inside of the bowl and sometimes it would go a little over the edge. But with Melanie, I would take two big empty grapefruit juice bottles, fill them with water and dump them one at a time, very slowly into the toilet bowl. This would go on for five minutes while she was outside, screaming with laughter. [Taken from "College Girls", by Spalding Gray]

10.01.13

Contributed by Villardo Ricalobos