No, it was a very ordinary, terribly slow journey. Even with the measurements complete, John continued to stroke his penis. I’ve no recollection of how long this went on for, only minutes I guess. John had a “very troubled life”, growing up gay in an age where being so was still mostly criminalised (thank fuck that is no longer the case!) He became “very ill” and died in the 1980s. Quality of pubic hair, shape of balls and of course, cock size. Like everyone’s sexual journey, it started in my formative years. Nor will I pay for sex, even though I could easily afford it. Recalling what I have done and achieved. Again, I had no idea why. The more I struggled the harder and bigger (not normally an issue for me) I got. Although arguably too old for such antics, one of my fellow ‘doctors’, my best mate John and I, had spent the afternoon playing in a paddling pool in our garden, a welcome relief from the summer heat.
