Saturday, February 5, 2011

Drawing The Line

I miss the line that I used to have that ran from my ballsack down my grundle. I don't know if it has a name, but I miss it. Maybe I miss the memories associated with it. Those were simpler times...back when I had that line. I used to run my finger along it wondering what the fuck it was. Little did I know that it would go away as I aged. That's something that every boy takes for granted, their ballsack line.

My friend used to think that he was stitched together when he was a kid. He was convinced that that is what the line was. It shouldn't have gone away, it should stay there forever so women have a chance to marvel at it and wonder what it was like we did. Then there would be a niche market for scrote-line massaging.

We need a name for this line. I don't know if it has one - if there is, somebody tell me. If not, somebody help me think of one. If you are a male and you don't know what I'm talking about, then I am truly sorry for you. You were either a deformed child (and not stitched together from other kids, what a sucker), or you didn't fondle yourself enough growing up.

Speaking of fondling yourself, remember finding that jet stream in inground pools and finding out that it felt good on your junk? My friend called it "The pee-wee massager" when he was 9. SIMPLER TIMES, PEOPLE, simpler times.

If I had one opportunity to ask God a single question and speak for all of humanity, our one shot for a divine answer, I would ask him why the line disappears. Girls reading this, I am truly sorry that you didn't get to experience this wonder.

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