I became a man today

Last night I did what so many men have done before me . . .

It was around 2:30 am when I got back to my apartment, and there she was. She’s been there every time I came in from a long day of nothing, or a short, brutal day of more than I even wanted to discuss . . . except with her. She’s been there to console me, to relieve me of problems and to just exist so I could dump all my shit in her.

And there she was this morning . . . so perfect, so beautiful, so welcoming. I could see she needed help with something, I just didn’t know what. Ever the taker more than the giver, she wanted to do as she had done so many times before, so I took all the stuff I didn’t want and gave it to her.

I was interrupted once by another guy who needed help, too. She’s like the giving tree; any time one of us needs her, she’s there; willing, ready and able. I told him I’d only be another few minutes, figuring that I was almost finished and never anticipating a problem with her.

Then the troubles began.

She’d had a way of releasing it from both of us . . . the methodology is still mostly a mystery to me, but last night whatever it is she usually does–something was wrong. It wasn’t going away like it usually did . . . like it usually just . . . magically went down this tube and disappeared.

I went in with my hands, of course, since I’ve been told I have certain, shall we say, talents with them regarding “fixing” or “relieving” problems, as it were. I don’t understand it, but I don’t question it either, and I haven’t had a complaint yet. I just . . . know what to do.

Her cover was already off; I’d needed it off to release before. Neither of us had ever objected:-) This time, though, she had to be naked for me to do what was necessary. I tenderly played with a small, red part deep within her that usually swelled up inside her when and where she usually “came”. And I had my problem diagnosed.

She’s the kind who needs a lot of fluid in her to come. Gallons of the stuff. Again, I don’t complain, and she doesn’t either. So with a bit of dexterity I had her cooing, in that relaxed state as she purred. I could see her filling up, waiting patiently for the moment she would come (we both wanted it, I know).

I’m really surprised it took such a short amount of work. Within a minute I was able to find the trouble inside her, and another few minutes and she was all set. I found her “lever”, and she came as she always had before. I guess this time was different because . . . well, she’d been hurting and I’d fixed her.

I think she was satisfied that night. I know I was. I’ll remember it forever.

I fixed my first toilet last night.

Don’t know about you, bu I need a cigarette - and I don’t smoke!!

Very nice, Punnie. You are a king among men.

Anthracite’s more of a man than you any day bucko! She doesn’t worrying about “fixing” the problem. She’ll just get rid of her old friend when she can’t do the job anymore and get a newer, sleeker replacement that can suck harder and faster.

Anthracite takes care of business!

::Fans herself to prevent a swoon::