Hey good people of Spunkville!
I think I broke my wanger. I’m not even kidding here, I did a job on it really good. Or bad as the case may be. I think it’s a sprain because it’s hanging sorta, I don’t know, bent, I guess is one way to put it.
Before anyone thinks El Spunko had a particularly energetic week with the ladies, it was nothing like that unfortunately. Not that there’s any shortage of punani in my life you dig, it’s just that this particular week I was in a “resting” phase. Giving old Dick Johnson a short vacation in the jungle. I know you know what I’m saying. Even the best of us require a little relaxation time.
Anyway, yeah. My wanger’s in little bit of pain. It’s sort of embarrassing even bringing this up but as I’m a real man I think I can handle it. You know those commercials that say if you sport a boner for more than four hours you should probably get some dude to look at it (in a medical sense, you understand, not for kicks or nothing)? Well I didn’t have any four-hour-boners, but I did have a four-ton-boner, or it felt like it. It was like toting a huge concrete pipe in my pants for an hour. I think that while in this concrete state I maybe sprinted a little too fast to my car or something because next thing I know I’m doubled up on the ground clutching my hairy peas and inventing cuss words, with a wanger like a boomerang. My doctor’s a lady and I’m hesitant to go put it in her hands, if you savor that image for a second. Before you get too carried away, she’s about 60 with chins in triple digits. In fact, next time I get aroused at an inconvenient time I plan on picturing my doctor in her panties and that should take care of matters.
So. I guess if you have advice on unbending a wanger, feel free to drop in and tell me.