I moved out of my Mom's house when I was 18 because her second husband didn't like me. It was mutual. For a while, I crashed with my buddy, Brad, who had inherited a house from his Mom. Not much of a house, but, anyhow a house.

In honor of his 21st birthday, Brad decided to hold a real wild party with lots of booze, chicks, weed, and some Xtasy. That sounded great to me. I'd only gotten laid twice in the past year and Brad practically guaranteed that I'd get laid 5 or 6 times that night. He'd stocked up on Trojans, hundreds of them, so I didn't need to worry about that.

I meant to be ready and able for any chick who was willing, so, after all the guests arrived, I put on a steel cock ring so that I'd have a boner whenever I needed one.

Brad had hired a DJ and rented strobe lights, so, it turned into a real rave. My ever-ready boner attracted chicks like flies to shit. The party went on for 4 hours and I got laid 6 times. The combination of too much booze and plenty of sex made me sleepy and I flaked out on the couch and fell asleep, still wearing the cock ring.

I woke up around 6:00 AM and realized that I'd had that cock ring on for about ten hours. I still had a boner and couldn't get the damn' thing off. I didn't want to go to the ER at the hospital with a cock ring stuck on my dick, so I woke Brad up to find out if he had a bolt cutter. As luck would have it, he did. It took two cuts on opposite sides of the ring to get it off.

My boner went down, but my dick was still very swollen and much bigger than I'd ever seen it before. It hurt, too. It had gone from dark purple to black-and-blue and yellow.

Brad looked serious and said "I'd better get you to a doctor after breakfast. If you have a boner for more than a couple of hours, it ruins your dick. By now, the damage, whatever it was, is done. "

"Why didn't you tell me that last night ?" I asked, almost in tears.

"Hey, Jason, I was busy with my own sex life. I wasn't paying any attention to yours. You were facing the back of the couch. I couldn't see that you had a boner. If I had, I'd have cut the cock ring off right away, though the damage was probably already done by then."

So, right after breakfast, we went to Brad's doctor, Dr. Amos Featherline, to get the bad news. As expected, it was bad. Dr. Featherline told me that my corpora cavernosa had degenerated and I'd never be able to get a boner again. I couldn't help myself, I broke down and cried.

"Do you masturbate ?" asked Dr. Featherline. I nodded. "Well, you can still do that and it'll feel just as good as it ever did. As many impotent old men have learned to their delight, you don't need an erection to masturbate."

That was comforting. I mentioned that, before last night, I'd only gotten laid twice in the past two years. So, what do you suppose I did the rest of the time ? Naturally, I jerked off, anywhere from 3 to 6 times a day. As soon as the swelling went down and my dick stopped hurting, I could go back to beating my meat.

I'd never forget how good fucking had been, but I'd learned when I was 13 that, whatever jerking off lacks in quality, I could make up for in quantity. I mentioned this to Brad and he said "Hey, I've read that there are 42 different grips and strokes and there's a web site where they're all discussed. I've got the URL somewhere."

This cheered me up quite a bit. Dr. Featherline gave me some pain pills and told me to leave my dick alone until the pain went away. That was just common sense. I figured that, if my sex life was going to consist of solo sex only, I'd better learn all I could about it and get the most I could out of it.

After a couple of weeks, my dick felt fine except that nothing I could do would make it get even the least bit stiff. In spite of the limpness of my whang, jerking off was just as good as it had ever been. I decided to find out just how many times I could enjoy it in one day.

On Sunday morning, I started as soon as I woke up. It never had taken me long to recharge my batteries, anywhere from 5 minutes to half an hour. I shat, shaved, and showered, beating my meat while I was in the shower.

I made myself a cheese and bacon omelet for breakfast, stroking my dick with my left hand while I ate. I creamed onto the floor under the table just as I finished the last piece of bacon. I mopped up the mess and put on a rubber to keep my cum off the rug and the upholstery of the couch.

I dug out a stack of porn videos, most of them VHS, some DVD's and popped one into the player. I sat on the couch stroking my limp dick with my eyes glued to the screen. It didn't take long for me to get hot and soon I was flailing away at my cock and panting. Suddenly, I stopped, shook, moaned, and inflated the condom like a balloon with my cum.

I dumped the cum into the toilet, rinsed out the rubber, and put it back on. By the time I was done doing that, I felt like massaging my whang again, so I did. I gently stroked my dick while I watched the rest of the video. By the end of it, I was breathing hard again. The next one is a favorite of mine, "Betty Blows the B'ballers."

I tried to hold off and not cum too soon, but it seemed like I couldn't keep my hand away from my meat long enough to get to the best part, the part where Betty gets fucked doggy-style from behind while she blows one jock after another.

I was getting lovers' nuts trying to keep from cumming before that scene, and, finally, I Fast-Forwarded to it. Just in time, I took my hands off my dick and sat on them and, while I watched Betty taking it in both ends, my nuts unloaded themselves without any help from my hands.

By that time, I had cum four times in less than an hour. This time, I didn't bother to get up and empty the condom until the video was over. By then I was hot again. Planning on a long, slow session devoted to trying out some of those 42 grips and strokes I'd studied, I put "Debbie Does Dallas" into the VHS player.

The picture jumped up and down and had horizontal streaks across it.

I Fast-Forwarded for a minute or so until the picture settled down and made a mental note to buy this porno classic on DVD. I started with one-handed right-hand and left-hand grips, with the fingers over and then under the shaft.

They all felt great to me and I felt the juices seething in my balls again.

I didn't try to stop the inevitable. I enjoyed all the sensations, getting short winded, hot, sweaty, shaky. It was all part of the fun. By the time I'd tested five grips, I was paying less attention to what I was doing than to how good it felt.

I was more conscious than I had been of the turmoil in my bag which told me that my love volcano was about to erupt. I wasn't expecting what happened next, though. I'd pulled the rubber on very tight and, when I shot, the rubber tore over the head of my dick and I shot all over the TV screen.

I got another Trojan from my stash in my bedside stand and watched the rest of what was viewable of "Debbie Does Dallas" after cleaning the TV screen, of course. I got very excited at one point in the movie, though I wasn't really beating my meat, just fondling it and I didn't think that anything had happened until I looked down and saw that there was cum in my fresh Trojan.

I still felt horny and unsatisfied, though, so I took my rod in my hand and gave it a REAL workout. If I hadn't been holding the rubber while I was whacking off, I swear I think I'd have blown it off the end of my dick

when I got my rocks off.

I shut off the video player, closed my eyes and just fantasized, slowly stroking my limp dick. I daydreamed that I was trying to win a bet by wearing out a nympho until she begged for mercy. It didn't take long before I was sweating and panting. I reached back and felt my nuts . They were hard and tense and very sensitive.

They were grinding out sperm like there was no tomorrow. Already my nuts were full of it and it was overflowing into my epididymes . I'd try to let them fill up until they were bloated as big as my balls. I loved the feeling when the need to cum got so strong that I couldn't hold back any more and it just exploded out.

My balls felt like they weighed five pounds each and were starting to ache, and still, my imaginary nympho ws taking all the fucking I could give her without complaining. My need to cum was unbearable. I was stroking and pounding my dick so hard and so fast, it's a wonder it didn't catch fire from the friction.

Then, the orgasm hit me ! I felt it through my whole body. I heard a "pop" and I couldn't figure out what it was. Nothing hurt. I opened my eyes and saw gism all over everything, the couch, the TV, the lamp, the rug. And it was still spurting out of me. The rubber had exploded.

I gave my nads a rest while I cleaned up the mess. I had cum eight times in slightly less than two hours. Allowing for breaks for meals and "calls of nature", if I could maintain that rate, I could do it 56 times in one day. I never heard of anybody doing it more than 20 times in one day, so I guessed that, sooner or later, my balls would need rest, but not just yet.

I dug out a video that always excited me and scared me at the same time. It 's about a stud who gets sucked and fucked by two hot babes so that he cums 12 times. When he can't get it up again, they stomp on his nuts and ruin him. It sure looks real.

I kept my hands away from my dick while I watched it but, by the time it was done, I was so hot I was shaking all over. I grabbed my dick and pounded it real fast. In less than a minute, I filled another rubber .

After that I was so fuckin' tired I had to take a nap. I slept for two hours. That mean I had only about nine more hours to jerk off. I'd heard two things about jackin' off that I found out from experience are true. The less you do it, the better it feels, but , the more you do it, the more you need to do it.

I phoned Pietro's Pizza for a meatball & sausage pizza which I ate holding the slices in my right hand while I jerked off with my left. That way, I didn't waste any time. I figured that I was wasting too much time running the videos, especially the VHS tapes, so I relied on my own fantasies for the rest of the day.

Well, for the first 3 hours, I was still getting off at 15 minute intervals, but it was getting harder to cum and for the next 3 hours, I managed to cum only 3 times an hour. Even that was getting hard to do, I needed more time to recharge my batteries. For the last three hours, I could only cum twice an hour.

By midnight I'd had it. I don't think I could've cum even once an hour and anyhow, I was so tired that I just flaked out on the floor and went to sleep. I woke up at 6:30, needing to take a piss.

When I got up off the floor, I could see that there was a small puddle of cum on the floor beside me, so, I must've had a wet dream, but I didn't remember it. Anyhow, it was the next day, so I didn't count it. I had managed to jack off 36 times in one day. That's gotta be a record.

Now, you might think that after cumming 36 times in one day, a guy wouldn't be interested in sex for a week or so, but that's not how it was at all. When I got up again at 8:00, I was horny. If I hadn't ruined my dick, I'm sure I'd have had a boner.

The first thing I did when I got up was go into the bathroom and jerk off into the toilet. That satisfied me for a little while, but I jacked off under the table onto the floor while I was eating breakfast.

I decided to go out and get some fresh air, so I took a walk in the park.

I enjoyed the nice weather and the fresh air, but all I could think of is sex. I got so horny I figured I'd cum in my pants if I didn't do something about it right away. So I ran into the woods until I couldn't be seen from any of the paths , almost tore my fly getting it open, pulled out my dick ,

yanked on it fast and creamed after about 15 seconds.

I wasn't satisfied, so, after a couple of minutes, I jerked off again, taking my time about it this time. After I dumped another big wad of cum onto the leaves, I fished a condom out of my wallet and put it on.

It's hard to keep it on without a boner, but I pulled my dick with the condom on it through the fly of my briefs, and they held it on for me.

Once I didn't have to worry about cumming in my pants, I resumed my walk. It wasn't very long, maybe ten or fifteen minutes before I got hot again. I transferred everything from my left hip pocket to my right hip pocket and played "pocket pool". I spurted into the condom 6 times.

I decided that, when I got home, I'd cut the bottom out of that pocket to give better access to my dick. Even though I'd already cum three times, I didn't feel tired at all. I felt very good, in fact. I wondered, though, how I'd find the opportunities to jack off at work as much as I needed to.

I was also going to a community college part-time, but I could find time between classes to whack off, I was pretty sure. Gradually, though, I found that I was giving up everything else for jerking off. I used to be active in sports, skateboarding, skiing, skating, b'ball, rock climbing. I needed so much time for jerking off, that I became a couch potato.

I used to go to movies, rock concerts, dances, and fights, but time-wise, they competed with jacking off....and lost. The only friend I kept was Brad because I lived with him. I stopped counting, but one of my hands was on my dick fooling with it almost all day long.

I wore a drawstring suspensory, not because my balls needed the support, but because the tight opening held the rubber on my flabby dick so that I could cum any time, any place.

I'd jack off in the study carrels in the college library, under the kneehole of my desk in the office where I worked, under the table in restaurants that used tablecloths, in my car, driving with one hand and beating my meat with the other. And, still, it wasn't enough. I always wanted more.

Brad asked me one night, "For Chrissakes, Jason, don't you do anything but beat your meat ?"

I thought it over for a moment and said "Not really. It's all I enjoy; I guess it's what I live for."

"Well, that's pitiful, Jason. What kind of a life do you have ? You don't go anywhere, you don't do anything. All you do is sit around jerking off."

"It's alright, Brad. I don't mind; my sex life suits me."

"Jason, listen to me. You've become a sex addict. What else are you interested in ?"

"Umm, nothing, really. "

"Jason, be honest with me and yourself, is that really good enough ? Is that a worthwhile goal, to devote the rest of your life to, jerking off ?

What's going to happen when age slows down sperm production and hormone secretion, when you can't do it as much as you want to ? Aren't you going to regret that you didn't enjoy youth while you had it ?"

"Of what I want, it's everything I can have. I can't fuck. I can't get married and have kids. I'm doomed to a loveless lonely life. I know it's all my own fault, but that's no consolation. Jerking off helps fill the void in my life."

"My God ! Can't you see that your incessant masturbation has made your life emptier than ever ? You haven't told me so, but I'd bet my bottom dollar that you've dropped out of college. So, there goes your education and your future. But, you don't care, do you ? You wanted more time to jerk off and college got in the way. It's a good thing you need your job, or you'd probably quit that, too to get more time to beat your meat."

"Well, actually, I don't need to. Y'see, I have a kneehole desk and I jerk off in there left-handed all day long. Nobody's caught me yet, so there's no problem. I've learned to touch-type one-handed almost as fast as if I used both hands, so, since all my work is done on a computer, it works out OK."

"Are you really contented with your sex life ? I mean really, deep-down, inside. Don't you ever wish you didn't have to whack off so much and could take time to enjoy the things you've given up ? "

"No, they're not as important to me. I enjoyed skiing, but I didn't need to do it. I enjoyed rock concerts, but didn't need to go to them. I NEED to jerk off. I can't stand to have anything interfere with it."

"In other words, you're addicted to it."

"Yeah, so what ? It doesn't cost anything; it's always available; it's legal;

it doesn't harm me or anybody else, so what's the big deal ?"

"I question whether it doesn't harm you. You've given up healthy exercise and become a couch potato."

"Hey, dude, poundin' off is good cardio-vascular exercise. I couldn't get more workin' out in a gym."

This sort of debate went on for four more years. I was getting rather fed up with Brad's nagging about my "problem", which I didn't see as a problem. I was even considering moving out, though I liked Brad a lot and I couldn't have found cheaper quarters.

I'd bought an Army-surplus Jeep for commuting to work and running errands, and one all day, I was out in it with the top down driving to a nearby town where I had a P.O. box that I used for my mail-order porn purchases. I was wearing a new cap I'd just bought and the wind blew it off. I saw it go over the guard rail behind me.

I parked the Jeep and walked back to where the cap had gone over and saw it about 30 feet down the slope of the embankment. I figured I could reach it, so I climbed over the guard rail and started down the very steep slope.

The slope wasn't just steep, though, it was covered with wet leaves and slippery. I hadn't gone a yard when my feet went out from under me and I landed on my ass, sliding down the slope feet-first on my butt. Before I could grab a sapling or a bush to stop myself , I ran into a small tree with my feet going to the left and right of it.

I slammed my crotch against the tree hard, smashing my balls against it. I screamed and tried to pull back from the tree . My feet couldn't get any traction on the slippery surface and I couldn't push myself back upslope by pushing against the tree with my arms.

So, I sat there with my crushed balls pressed hard against that fuckin' tree, screaming my head off. I'd never felt pain like that before in my life.

I felt myself slipping away and wondered if I was dying. I heard a car pull up behind the Jeep and , then, a man's voice yelling "Hang on, fella, I'm callin' for help."

By the time help came, I was out cold. I came to in a hospital bed feeling maybe a quarter as bad as I did when I passed out. When I opened my eyes, there was a doctor standing beside me.

"How do you feel ?" he asked me.

"Not half as bad as I expected to if I ever woke up." I answered. "How bad's the damage ?"

"Well, you'll never have any kids. You won't be able to lead a normal sex life unless you take hormone replacement therapy for the rest of your life."

"Can I still masturbate ?"

"I'm going to check that right now. Close your eyes. Can you feel this ?"

"Whatever it is, no."

"How about this ?"

"Same answer."

"Then, the answer to your question is no. I'm not sure if it is permanent, but, at present, there is no feeling in your penis. I brushed the glans with this artist's brush, and you couldn't feel that, so I pinched it hard enough to be painful and you didn't feel that either.

I had noticed that the perineum was badly bruised behind your scrotum and I suspected that the pudendal nerve might have been damaged. We see this a lot in bicycle accidents. The nerve may regenerate.......or it may die. If it regenerates, feeling should return within the next 6 months or so.

This poses a problem concerning hormone replacement therapy. If you were to take enough testosterone to bring the level of serum testosterone up to normal, you would have a normal libido and be very frustrated, being unable to satisfy it."

"Yeah, I can see I've got a lot to think about."

"Oh, by the way, there's someone outside to see you. He says he's your best friend."

"Yep. That's Ralph. Send him in, please." Ralph came into the room looking very concerned. "Jase, are you going to be alright ?" he asked .

"Well, Ralph, my 'problem' as you call it, is cured for at least 6 months, maybe permanently. There's no feeling in my dick, so, fer shure, I can't jerk off. It's gonna be rough on me. Stand by me; I'm gonna need your help."

"I will, Jim, for a year."

"A year ? Why a year ?"

"Because I'm in love. I'm gonna move in with Pam next year and, if she gets pregnant, we'll be getting married."

I guess my face fell through the floor. I felt like I'd been set adrift in a lifeboat without any oars. What would I do without Ralph ? Of course, I knew the answer, grow up and learn to rely on myself.

In the meantime, though, Ralph promised to help me in any way he could. I spent 16 days in the hospital and another 8 recuperating at home

before I could walk without much pain and go back to work. My health

insurance wasn't enough to pay for it and Ralph lent me the difference.

He helped me get back into my old life before I became a sex addict. We went to shows and football games and rock concerts and that's how he helped me get my mind off sex. I threw away my porn, and that helped a lot, too.

I was on HRT, just enough to keep me from growing boobs, but not enough to make me horny. That took a lot of tweaking. Six months later, what I was expecting happened, nothing. So, that meant I'd have to really get into other interests to fill the vacuum left by sex.

Again, Ralph helped me find interesting hobbies, and, in his summer vacation, he took me to Europe with him. That was after he and Pam busted up. So, I still live with him and he's like a big brother to me. When he brings a chick home to get laid, I go to a movie. I've sure gotten to see a lot flicks that way.

I don't really miss sex much any more, 'cause I don't take enough testosterone to give me much of a sex urge. Ralph doesn't seem to be interested in settling down, but, if he does get married, his wife's gonna have to accept me as the "resident kid brother" and I'll always have a room in his home.