My Dick is Almost Completely Wrapped up in Blue Bandage

That got your attention didn't it? It's all in the heading, you see, all in the title. If we want our work to be read ' be it magazine article, book or marketing flyer ' it has to be preceded by a catchy phrase that puts the squeeze on our target to read further. With those simple ten words I've managed to flex my muscles and make you an offer you can't refuse.

How many regular visitors to the forum do you imagine were able to resist clicking on this thread? Not very many. Well, not you anyway, eh?

But the crux of it is that it's actually true. My dick IS almost completely wrapped up in blue bandage. There's just a little bit left at the end for the old Jap eye, to enable me to pee, you understand.

It's quite a snug-fitting bandage really, taped to the hair of my nuts underneath and my pubes above, and if I were to level with you here I'd have to admit that I'm not exactly walking on air at the scenario of the future waxing of my balls when it comes off, and that day is fast approaching.

But for the moment I'm walking about the house like John Wayne, lumbering around in order to protect this large lump in my groin area from further damage. My dick is bruised and swollen enough as it is. The swelling's no bad thing, of course. I could get used to that. But the bruising is a little weird.

I'm sure you have scant interest in such matters but the skin on my phallus has always been very smooth and slightly darker than the rest of my body. Not the autumn colour of tobacco leaf, you understand, but more butterscotch or toffee. I've never been able to explain this, and never tried to, but now it's more purple and blue and yellow, and this is disconcerting.

And it's been hurting for two days now. I've been given painkillers; although only use them in the middle of the night when I can't sleep. I had to get up twice last night to pop a couple.

For you see on Thursday night I was circumcised for the first time. And come to think of it there's not very many times you can be circumcised are there. I've experienced a tightening of the foreskin for a couple of years now and when I mentioned it to the doctor he said I'd have to have it chopped off. I wasn't keen at first. It was my bit of skin and we've shared several experiences over the years. We've become close friends and I was loathe to cast him aside, but I gradually came to the doctor's viewpoint. Occasionally old pals can begin to compress and constrict their hold on your friendship, and it was time to let go.

BUPA paid for the surgery and so Thursday night found me sitting in a little room of my own chatting to a nurse from South Africa about the lack of get-up-and-go in a lot of teenagers today. Changing the subject as only nurses and Michael Parkinson can she informed me it was time to get "undressed and showed me how to put the little nightie on. I managed that alright, although I must admit to whispering a nostalgic farewell to an old playmate.

The walk to the theatre was interesting. I strolled through the ward, nurses and sisters bustling around me, making unsuccessful attempts to hide my blushing buttocks. I'd opted for local as opposed to general anaesthetic, not because I was enchanted by the whole operation and wanted to watch, you understand, but I simply didn't want to stay in overnight. BUPA hospitals can be a bit tasty, but I'd rather recuperate at home.

So there I was, lying on a gurney and signing the consent form. No going back now. They arranged everything neatly with just my old todger poking out through a hole in the sheets as if to offer the world a pleasant, "Good evening. The surgeon found three or four veins in the base of my penis and injected into them, which was BLOODY painful I don't mind telling you.

It takes ten minutes for the anaesthetic to work and during that time I'm chatting away to ladies in nurse's uniforms with my dick hanging out of my pants. I was dreading I'd get a hard-on. Can you imagine that!

A kind lady of about sixty asked if I'd like some music. When I agreed she suggested 'First Cut is the Deepest' and burst out laughing. And there wasn't much chance of me attaining an erection after that, I can tell you.

Eventually the surgeon asked if I could feel my knob. Well, he probably didn't phrase it exactly like that, but you get the picture. I put my hand down and felt nothing! There was nothing there! At least that's how it seemed to me, for I felt nothing and was starting to fear they may have me mixed up with the sex change guys next door. But although my penis couldn't detect my hand, my hand could feel a lump and I was reassured to discover they'd saddled the right horse.

I can't recollect a time when a man has been anywhere near my dick, and certainly not had it in his hands for 30 minutes or so. I closed my eyes and listened to the music, yet still couldn't block out the occasional request for "Scissors or "Knife please. Most unpleasant. He commented how clean I was and I took small comfort in that.

Cutting off the little bit of skin takes about 10 minutes. I had a very tight frenulum and he divided it for me as he thought this could be one of the causes of my tight foreskin, Good lad!

The stitching up afterwards takes a further 20 minutes. Dissolving stitches around the rim and ones that will kind of fall off underneath. It's the stitches that cause me most pain during the night for when I get an erection during sleep it stretches these and can be absolute agony. I stumble to the bathroom for my painkillers before realising I've got a boner lighting the way a few inches in front of me.

My family were waiting for me as I exited. My little boy, with a candour only children possess, asked what happened to the piece of skin. I told him I'd got it in my pocket and was going to cure it and put it on my key ring. To the total disgust of a frigid lady whose husband was no doubt right at that time lying on a gurney with his little pink dick peeping out at the world from beneath clean white sheets all three of us cracked up right there and then in the waiting room.