not a half-hour passed after i was finished logging today's entry into the dylanne frank diary section of this site, when i had another rememberance of the fbi/armpit man. and then, my pee-pee started to grow, though i kind-of facilitated the growth, and eventually i started humping my mattress with my pants on.

i wish those fbi men never came to my house, at least i wish the sexy one never came over, i've become a prisoner of my lust for him. and, boy, what an aerobic workout this session was (as well as the others) - i was out of breath after i shot my load. huffing and puffing. see, if i were to have sex, that wouldn't happen - i'd just enter somebody and thrust half-heartedly until i'd finally spew. it is grody with a capital g, just the thought of being up someone's poop-chute. yuck. i remember fucking some guy in annapolis, there was a brown spot on my dick when i was through. sick.

but, wow, i never really thought about how masturbation sessions could be good for me. humping the mattress enough to get me out-of-breath, it sure beats the treadmill. haha, no, just kidding...i am still trying to find a way to get those chemical-castration pills so lust doesn't bother me anymore.

was it good for you?


check out my site, , unless you're there now