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A Wanker's Lament

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Posted on: 23 May 2021 22 comments
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With poetic license, this is my true story!
A Wanker's Lament When I was just a little boy, I thought it was a funny toy. When I was but two or three, I used it so to spray my pee. But, one night, when just e......., I entered into my seventh heaven. Lying in bed, I played with my cock And felt an urge my legs to lock And then came a great sensation. My own, very first, ejaculation! In the morn, my face turned red - The sheet was stained in the bed! So, I became a callow youth And I'll now tell you all the truth. A wanker I was on every day Except for twice on each Sunday. Most of the time my dick was hard My hand around it, well on guard. Although I did it on my own My secret sin, all alone Until, one day, my best friend Wrestled me to the end And we found our cocks were stiff, Not the moment for a tiff. Down came our pants in a flash Just the time for a bash With our hands on the other's thing All the bells began to ring, As we made each other shoot Our cum from chin to boot. Thus my life mixed with other boys (Sometimes careful with the noise). When I left school, back to my own, I kept my hand on my bone. Then, one day, I became twenty With daily wanking a-plenty. But it was at twenty-seven That I entered my second heaven; With my wife there was a wedding Followed by an active bedding. This did not stop my want to jerk But twice a week became hard work After thrice a week with my dear wife It really was some irksome strife. By the time I was thirty My thoughts were still quite dirty. I wanked and wanked and wanked A large credit had I banked In the wanking stakes so clear In perfect shape my sex gear. Then, it started, when I was forty Although I dreamed of being naughty, When I tossed myself too often, I found my dick would start to soften. On trying hard three times a week, The fourth time would be too weak. A decade later, it was much worse; I thought I had a bloody curse. I still loved my cock in hand But cumming twice, t'was all but banned, Whether with my hand or wife, This seemed to be my fate in life. Let us skip a score of years Or I'll end in floods of tears. Today, my age is a noble eighty Believe it or not, my matey. My sexual life is nearly over Rarely is my hand my lover. I wish to vote in my election To have a good, firm hard erection. Alas, it rises not too normal But just a tiny, formal Swelling, so difficult to handle; Were it hard and long, a candle! With loads of gel and much foreplay A weak orgasm does foray And a drop of cum on the head Is all I can produce in bed. When, in the shower, I am wetter, Things are surely not better; It matters not lathered with soap, A stiffy? Not much hope. I'm now back to when I was three With a toy just with which to pee! Howsoever, I do well recall My callow youth and all. With joy, the days when it would work When it would be a joy to jerk And I could get a damned good stiffy With my hand around, in a jiffy, Treating my cock with utmost pleasure And wanking off was a treasure. Just leave me to my past thoughts and monthly try To get sufficient hard-on to an orgasmic cry!