If you prick me...

I'm 73 and a dedicated masturbator.

Until I was 18, I had a phymosed foreskin — I couldn't retract it over the glans. Manipulation of the instrument was pleasurable but not entirely satisfactory. In the Army, on duty in Korea (before the war there), I was stationed with a battalion at Pohang, remote from the fleshpots of Taegu, Pusan, and Seoul. Although our neighborhood was beautiful, as so much of Korea is, we longed for a break in the peacetime Army routine. The men with foreskins had an escape option: circumcision at the military hospital at Pusan.

I took the option. The surgeon who gave me the spinal and painted my genitals with mercurochrome brought out his flash camera. He took a dozen pictures and promised to put my pink-painted crotch on the cover of the Journal of the American Medical Association. He spoke with a forked tongue: Never was I a cover boy. The actual trim was done by a technical sergeant who planned to finish medical school after he got out. I watched in an overhead mirror.

The results were pleasing. Around the head of my gadget were half a dozen stitches. The ward I was in had 5 other freshly trimmed guys. Others in the hospital would visit us from time to time to discuss their evening activities in the bordellos of Pusan. Those stitches really hurt when they were stretched. Once the catgut was out, it was a new experience to self-lubricate the newly emerged head of the thing and give it a little friendly friction. The wonder of this has never grown old, although of course I have.

My wife is rather fragile, and we gave up the dance of the sheets about 3 years ago in consideration of her health. My hands had not lost their cunning, though, so I haven't suffered. I do, however, need a small dose of Viagra from time to time to put some steel in my spike.

My fantasies generally involve one or more of the young women who work here as helpers and aides. (I am quite polite and cautious with them in real life, of course, not wanting to reveal that I am in fact the very perfect model of a Dirty Old Man). These girls, from the Philippines, Puerto Rico, and Africa, are eye-candy of the most toothsome sort. (I am reminded of a New Yorker cartoon: an old fellow like me is seated on a park bench as a gorgeous, bouncy girl athlete jogs past. He remarks to himself, "If you prick me, do I not bleed?")

I much enjoy your Web site. All best wishes!