happy endings

When you meet the right girl… you know. I’m not talking about love either. I’m talking about something infinitely more important in the grand scheme of things.

Maybe an explanation is in order.

I lost my man parts in an industrial accident over ten years ago. I won’t go into the details, but it left me roughly as smooth as a Ken doll downstairs.

There is a phenomenon called “phantom limb” where amputees occasionally still feel the presence of the missing appendage, as if it were still part of the body. Despite a great deal of research on the underlying neural mechanisms of these sensations, there is still no clear consensus as to their cause. Some hypothesize that it could be due to reorganization in the human brain’s somatosensory cortex after an injury while others argue that it’s primarily the result of “junk” inputs from the peripheral nervous system. Either way, both the brain and the nervous system seem to be involved after the loss of sensory input.

Either way, the same is true for penises. Trust me on that one.

This is where it gets interesting. Interesting, weird, gross… take your pick. These “phantom urges” became problematic. I am young, virile and still very much attracted to the fairer sex. These “urges” would manifest themselves as a strong desire to get a blowjob. I could think of nothing else. I would at the grocery store pushing my cart down the aisle or sitting on a bench at the lake and I would smile and wave to people as they walked by, but I was thinking about getting a blowjob.

I think you can see what’s coming. Or, in my case, not coming.

But the desire remained just the same.

So I went in search of relief.

At first I thought getting involved in a long-term, loving relationship would be the tact to take.

It was not. There are certain things that even flowers and jewelry can’t overcome.

If you ever want to end a long-term, loving relationship, ask your partner to blow what isn’t there. I think the dark black tire tracks on my driveway are still visible.

After that I sought out a pervert. A girl with a strange fetish or perhaps a quirky actress looking for the part of a lifetime. I scoured strip clubs, adult book stores, dating apps and community theaters, all to no avail.

Turns out when people say that there is someone out there who is into anything you can possibly imagine, they are wrong.

At least that’s what I thought until I met Molly.

I’m not even sure how the topic came up, but when the moment arrived she was as into it as I was. From the moment she unzipped my pants and grabbed hold of my phantom penis everything was perfect. It couldn’t have been any better if I’d actually still had one.

It was the little things that counted during these encounters. The sucking and slurping noises were nothing short of inspired. She even gagged a little every now and then, possibly imagining a larger member than what I’d originally had, such was her total absorption in what she was doing.

As I neared my first non-climax I gave her a little look I was sure she wouldn’t understand. But she understood completely. The “where do you want it?” look. She offered her ample bosom for my non-ejaculate’s destination.

It was the best orgasm I never had.

She looked up at me afterwards and said “I’m not sure I believe in love, but I’ll tell you this; I love doing that.”

Now do you understand?

That makes one of us.