On Wednesday evening, a little before midnight, on the way to sleep while watching some Netflix “Hoarders” with Mrs. Smirk who was already half asleep, I felt a brief sting on the top side shaft of my dick about an inch and a half below the head. I sorta fiddled around with it under covers, not looking at it or anything, and felt a little bump. Quickly the pain subsided. I sorta shrugged it off and fell asleep. (Just a few moment earlier I had thought about trying to get it on with the drowsy Mrs. at the beginning of “Hoarders”, but she was pretty much out, and I was too lazy, and “Hoarders” is a total turn-off, so lucky thing!)
Come Thursday morning I inspected my dick in the shower as well as while dressing. I had what appeared to be a very small scab on my dick. I kind of rubbed on it a little, wondered ‘what the fuck?’ Maybe I, like, zipped my dick up in the zipper or something the day before without realizing it, I thought to myself. You know, like, sometimes you’ll totally like run into something and not think a thing about it, and then later in the shower you’ll have a giant bruise.
Around 11AM the next day at work, I inspected it some more. I wished it would heal. The zipping up of the dick theory was becoming less and less convincing to me, as it well should have. I was sort of at a loss.
My mind wandered back to that chick in the late 90’s who I’d had a two month relationship with. How we totally fucked all the time because I had just got out of a 7 year relationship, the last 3 of which had been completely sexless. And how she, my oasis in the desert at the time, had started crying about three weeks into unprotected sex, saying that she had something to tell me but that I was going to hate her.
Her ex-boyfriend from 6 months ago had the herp. The Herp! And she hadn’t had any symptoms but had never gotten tested either so she didn’t know, and Oh My God, You HATE Me Now, Don’t You!?
‘How long does Herpes stay dormant?’ I asked myself in the work bathroom, my cock in my hand, a smallish scab looking thing staring up at me. It was sorta sore too. It was sore and scabby. Could it be, like, a scab from a sore? A herpe sore, perhaps…PERHAPS!?
To the Googles with nary a stop to bring up private browsing. If you go into my Thursday’s Firefox history right now I my work computer, such searches will come up as:
“Can Herpes go dormant”
“How long can Herpes go dormant” (typically a couple of years, but there have been cases where it has gone dormant for several.)
“Image: Herpes” – this forgivably brings up sores on lips and arms and so on on the first page, and not genital ones. It also pretty much brought up nothing that looked like the scab like thing I had going on.
Plus, holy shit, if it was some sort of herp, how would I convince Mrs. that really, I hadn’t fucked anyone but her it 12 years? She would never believe it!
I put my sore, scabby dick out of my mind for the next few hours until I was through with work. After I was out, I went to my work apartment and changed from my pants into my shorts. Bright afternoon sunlight streamed into the window. I thought to myself, ‘what a great area for a true inspection of this friggin’ thing.’
I took off my pants and positioned myself so that the sunlight shown on my dick. I kinda fiddled with it. Totally like a scab. I picked at it. I didn’t know if I should pick the scab right off, as it seemed as if I could scrape it loose if I dug hard enough. But then, of course, maybe whatever this thing was (the zipper theory came back to mind) the scab meant it was on its way to healing and to pick it off would only leave an open wound.
I picked for a moment more and then it lifted under my nail, just like a little scab, (sorta relieved) but with teeny legs on either side! (total fucking horror!)
Holy Fuck, its a tick! I grabbed the thing between two fingers and pulled! The skin of my dick stretched a bit, but, thankfully, the tick let go.
So, there I stood, a teeny tiny tick grasped in two fingers, and a sad assaulted dick pointing towards the floor, with nothing but a red, raised swollen area where the tick had been.
I wanted to burn the tick! No fire near since I had quit smoking. I wanted to poke the little fucker through the body with a needle! I don’t sew…
I settled for a toilet flush.
And there is the tick on my dick story. Forgive any typos because I’m not proof reading this thing.
I’m actually paranoid as hell about Lyme disease.
(to the tune of “Kiss is on My List” by Hall and Oates)
Because a tick – a tick – was on my dick.
Because a tick – a tick – I couldn’t flick.
Because a tick was on my dick / when I looked in sunliiiiight