The Pros and Cons of Free-balling
An hour or two later I was back at the office living with my decision. It felt kind of nice when I was up and walking around, but seated at my desk I was suffering from the situation where one side of my scrotum would adhere itself to an inner thigh. It's this condition, more than anything else, that keeps me from wearing boxers. It was enough to make me think twice before pulling this stunt again, but things were bearable.
Eventually I got to the point where I needed a coworker to show me how to request something from a network administrator. She came into my cube and was plodding her way through the world wide web looking for the appropriate on-line form. She is very good at what she does, but isn't always to quick to bring closure to a situation. I was standing idly by as she poked here and there, making absolutely sure that there wasn't anything else I might need.
All of a sudden I felt a sharp pain hit my penis. It was a pain on the skin of the organ, a little off to one side. I felt just like it feels when you accidentally snag it in your zipper. But I had been standing completely still at the time. I first thought it was just some epidermal twinge or something. But the pain persisted. I began to wonder if my dick had come to rest slung over some coarse thread in my jeans or shirt tail. I quickly reached in and gave it a little flop to hopefully unhook it from whatever was irritating it.
No good. The pain was still there. It was as if I had inadvertantly left a push pin in my pocket, and that the point had poked through and was pricking me in the, uh, prick. If this weren't so implausible it would have made sense, because the pain was not constant but would come and go with sharp twinges of pain. It really felt as if someone was taking a needle and intermittantly poking me with it. I adjusted myself a couple other times to no avail.
I figured that when my coworker was finished that I would just scurry off to the bathroom and inspect myself. But she just kept going on and on and on with what she was trying to do. The pain started to get a bit more intense. I reached in my pants and actually took hold of my penis to feel the exact point of contact. There was a small lump on the exact spot. This was disturbing. I began to wonder if some tumor had sprung into being. I excused myself and hurried to the mens room.
I emerged from the maze of cubicles in which I sit and made a bee line from the men's room. Between me and my salvation was another woman from the office. As soon as she saw me come around the corner she pointed at me. This was a sure sign that she needed to talk to me about something. I told her I'd be right back, but she said this would only take a second. I knew this was going to be trouble as she was not known to be expeditious in her conversations. She started giving me all this background about what she wanted to ask me. I stood there as patiently as I could. Finally she came to what she wanted. It was extremely simple. She needed me to do something that I knew would only take me seconds to do. But she continued on about why she needed the change and how much better it would make everything.
She was resisting all my attempts to get away from her. Suddenly I felt a major twinge of pain and I couldn't take it any longer. "Look, I'll be right back!" I said testily and bolted away from her. I could still hear her following up on her request as I moved quickly off.
Finally I got to the mens room and walked into the larger handicapped stall. With nervous anticipation I undid my pants and whipped it out. I twisted it to the side that was hurting and just above the circumcision scar I saw a mark. At first it looked like a blood blister, but upon closer inspection I quickly realized it was a small red ant that had latched itself onto the skin of my member. I instantly knew where it had come from. I had seen ants just like it crawling around on the locker room floor right by where my basket is. One must have crawled into my jeans while I was working out. On the one day that I decided to rough it, and of all the skin under my jeans for it to choose from, it zeroed right in on the place I least would have wanted it to go.
I quickly pulled it from my sking and squashed it between my fingers. Right after I did so I wished I had saved it so that I could make it die a prolonged and painful death back at my desk. But now all that was left were ant crumbs on my finger tips. I inspected my penis onece more. Although there was a bit of a red welt, there didn't appear to be any serious damage. I zipped up my pants and returned to my desk.
The woman who stopped me in the hall was gone, but the coworker at my desk was still there. Eventually she completed her task and left me to my silent pain. My dick was still throbbing just a bit, but it was clearly getting better. Finally I had my cubicle back to myself again. Fortunately there were only a couple hours before quitting time, but for the rest of the day an annoyance as small as a misplaced pen became a big deal. All I could think was, "God! I've had an ant leeching blood off my penis today. Haven't I suffered enough?!?!?"