So where's my wood?

Smoking cigarettes can cause of Erectile Dysfunction.

I though it was something that happens during middle age. Why else were there so many types of cock rings on the market? Yeah, I know it sounds rather naive but hey it's not like there are any BOOKS on this topic. Oh hell no, men are the strong silent types. One dares not talk aloud nor write about not being able to get it up unless it is with a crane!I truly thought it was me. Well it could very well still be me, but now I know that alot of it had to do with me smoking cigarettes. My personal ad states that I've been known "to pitch a coupla innings" but I'm "mostly a catcher". Truth of the matter is that I've mainly been a "top" and had "become" a versatile/bottom when it became more difficult for me sustain an erection.

Now I've stopped smoking, so where is my wood?

To be fair, I've never got a hard-on by looking at a beefy guy. Nor a chubby by watching a skater punk in dropped jeans grind past me on the street. Nope, nothing visual. If I were to read "friction fiction", then oh-you-betcha, doncha-know. A drippin' stiffy for days!

What was the difference between the two I pondered. Then it dawned on me. If I were observing a guy, it was like I wasn't a part of what i was watching. It's like stumbling upon a circle jerk in the woods. I wouldn't get wood unless I was involved in the action. Reading friction fiction enables me to be right in the thick of the action.

I was hanging out with "Joshua" when I was between residences. When I saw him leaning over the bed he was making, his trim back within a white "wife-beater" tee. A nice firm ass wrapped in black lycra biking shorts topping his muscular furred legs...

SCHA-WING-!!!

Why did this happen? I wasn't part of any "action" or "scene". Then it hit me. I was in the thick of a scene. I was checking out my super sexy friend who was a mere 2 feet from me. Oh how I wanted to lick the back of his legs. Yank down those shorts and ram my tongue between his cheeks slurp and munch and suck and nibble on his perineum. I'd have him squirming all over. Hell, I'd have my freaking post stabbing in and out of his ass.

I smack myself in the head sometimes for thinking "logically". I didn't do anything because I respect him. You just can't go pouncing on your buds.

Or can you?

How far does respect go? I'm not talkin' about friends with benefits here, (that's a Blog Topic for another time.)

I love him. I'm emotionally bonded to him.

And that guys, makes all the difference in the world.