My Big Dick(zit) (was Re: masturbation injury anecdotes)
 
Author: The Carrot
Email: stevem@shore.net
Date: 1998/09/12
Forums: alt.tasteless 

Back when I was a young teen fuckup (as opposed to the thirty-something 
fuckup that I've become) I started paying attention to my dick, as all young 
men are wont to do. As I would gently fondle my penis I would notice the 
freshly sprouted hairs, the breathtaking sweeping curve of the glans, and the 
way that my balls dangled in an artful fashion. Being in the throes of 
puberty, I made it a point to examine my penis as frequently as time, 
homework, and privacy would permit; often my homework would suffer, although 
I once turned in some math homework that I had accidently gotten some spooge 
on. My math teacher, recognizing the familiar patina of sperm stains, shot me 
nasty looks for the rest of the school year. Perhaps if I had filled her 
aging twat with my always-rigid teenage penis I might've made the honor role 
that year.

One day whilst engaged in a penis handling session I noticed that my dick had 
a visitor, a small red lump on the left-hand side. Being in the throes of 
self-induced passion I ignored it, preferring to fill my mind with thoughts 
of the large-breasted girl who sat in front of me in English class. 

The next day, the little red lump was not only still present but slightly 
larger. I worried that at the ripe old age of 14 I had contracted venereal 
disease from the handjob I received one Friday night from a female co-member 
of the school's marching band as we rode the bus back from an out-of-town 
football game. 

Naturally, I wasn't worried so much about telling my parents that 
I had contracted an STD as much as I was worried about what it would bode for 
my wanking career, which at that point had reached an astonishing 9 times a 
day (and never during school hours, either, despite the temptation to 
retreat to a little-frequented bathroom out by the home economics wing). 

Every day, the little red lump got larger and larger and eventually got large 
enough to make my spontaneous erections painful as the shaft of my erect 
penis would rub the dickzit against my underwear and jeans. Since, being a 
young lad of 14, spontaneous and instant erections were an hourly, if not 
more frequent, fact of life it became apparent that Something Had To Be Done. 

I got home from school and ensconced myself in the bathroom. Sitting on the 
toilet lid, I induced an instant erection by thinking about Susan Anton. The 
offending dickzit glared at me from the side of my rockhard penis. By this 
time, because I had steadfastly attempted to ignore it for close to a week 
and a half, it was easily the size of a nickel. 

I reached down and attempted to squeeze it slowly. An incredible amount of 
pain resulted and I almost cried out in agony, managing to hold my tongue 
only by thinking about the embarrassment that would result should my mother 
decide to burst in and discover what was happening. 

Despite the pain my hard-on didn't diminish. When I could see clearly again, 
I looked down and could see that the pus inside was almost at the point of 
bursting free. I took a deep breath, reached down, and with a violent 
contraction of my fingers squeezed the dickzit with all of the physical and 
mental strength that I could muster. 

A river of agony flowed through me! A tear trickled down my face and sweat 
streamed out of every pore as I squeezed, hoping to tease at least a tiny 
amount of pus out of the offending lump. 

And then, suddenly, it burst with an audible *SPLORT!*. Like a miniature Mt 
St. Helens the zit exploded and sent debris flying an incredible distance. 
White pus spattered against the nearby wall and instantly my pain was 
relieved; a cold sweat ran down my face and I felt a sense of palpable 
relief; I had killed the dickzit.

Glancing down, I noticed a stream of clear fluid running out of the wound 
along with a small amount of blood. I dabbed it dry with a piece of tissue 
paper, placed a small amount of topical antibiotic gel (Neosporin, I believe) 
on the hole where the dickzit had formed, and then left the bathroom. Later 
that day, when I was taking a leak, I noticed that I had forgotten to wipe 
the pus off of the wall and it had dried into a cheeselike substance. Looking 
back, I wish I had tasted it.

Things healed quickly and within two weeks there was no sign at all that my 
penis had once sported one of largest zits I had ever seen. There was no loss 
of functionality, although as a safety measure I didn't get another handjob 
from the girl on the bus. 

Years later I finally asked my doctor what it could have been, and he felt 
that it might have been a blocked sebaceous gland that was right over a nerve 
ending but avowed that after twenty years it was too late for a diagnosis. 

"If it hasn't killed you by now, it most likely won't," he told me while 
undoubtably supressing a chuckle over the whole thing. 

LIke most things involving my beloved penis, I don't find it a laughing 
matter.