Ball touch / Doug Lamp

So I realize we just met a few minutes ago and this might sound crazy, but I can't help but think that we're forming a pretty deep connection here, not to say that it's going to evolve into anything of an intimate nature mind you, but at the very least I think it's safe to say we share a mutual platonic admiration. Agreed?

Good. I thought so.

Then as mutually platonic admirers of each other I have a modest favor to ask of you. A favor that would only require a moment of your time and a mere fraction of effort on your part.

I was wondering if you would please touch my balls. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hold on. Wait a minute. I can see from the look on your face that you're misinterpreting my intentions here. It's nothing sexual. It's nothing perverted. In fact if you think about it, it's nothing more than the skin cells and nerve endings of a finger briefly making contact with the skin cells and nerve endings of a bare scrotum. Nothing more.

No cupping, fondling, or juggling required. Seriously.

Right. You just have to touch them. Just one actually. Just for a split second.

No, it doesn't have to be here at the bar, although it could be and it might be easiest. We could go into the men's room or go to your place if you would feel more comfortable there. Hell, we could go to the zoo to do it for all I care. Or the hotel across the street. It really doesn't matter. I'd just like you to touch my balls.

Because I'm asking you nicely, that's why. Listen, I think you're making this into a bigger deal than it really is. The whole ordeal would honestly take about five seconds. Two seconds for me to unzip my fly, another two seconds for me to unleash my balls, and one more second for you to reach down and touch one. Then it's over. Kaput.

Still hesitant? I can tell. Let me ask you this. Would you have a problem touching the back of my knee? How about the roof of my mouth? What would you say if I told you that more people have touched my balls than my kneeback and mouthroof combined? It's true. So it's really not that big of a deal or anything. People touch my balls all the time. Not just sluts and queers either. I'm talking about well respected people with good jobs and impeccable hygiene. I politely ask them to touch my balls, they do so, and then we return to whatever it was that we were doing - eating, yachting, watching television, having sex, or just chatting like we are.

What's that? No you cannot wear a glove. Good question though.

Trust me, as weird as it may sound to you, it would be even weirder if you didn't do it, considering how NOT of a big deal it is. It's not like I'm asking you to drive me to the airport, help wash dishes, have sex, or co-sign on a loan. It's a simple matter of momentary sack contact.

Just a tap is all.

And heck, if the mood strikes you, feel free to take off your shirt. . . and maybe stroke my knob. Whatever feels right to you. . .

Whadya say?