Mirrored with permission from Outpost Nine and Azrael
Disclaimer - the following editorial is rated NC-17. Not that the others aren't racy, but this one sets a new standard. If you find something that offends you, well...don't say I didn't warn you.
I hesistate to tell this story, because it became a legend in Kyoto. I'd meet random people on the train who'd say "Oh! You're that octopus guy!" I'm seriously not even making that up. I had been trying to contain it the best I could, but I kind of figured it was hopeless when I ran into a friend who'd heard the story...while he was vacationing in Singapore. What the hell?! Anyway, I've sort of given up on containment, and since this can also potentially embarrass the hell out of my ex-girlfriend (that bitch...sorry, reflex...), I've decided to share with you all.
So anyway, The Octopus.
One day last winter, my ex-girlfriend and I were fooling around, and she agreed to give me a blow-job (note the verb usage - "agree", not "offer". That bitch). She said though she'd thought up a new technique, so she used this opporunity to try it out. She'd named it The Octopus. No, I will not tell you what "The Octopus" is, use your imaginations.
I was enjoying said Octopus, when she stopped suddenly and exclaimed "Oh no! It ripped." I thought surely, she was talking about her lip, so I said "What, your lip?" She responded, "No. You." I looked down, and sure enough, there was blood. I suppose I should have freaked out here, but strangely enough I was rather calm. I actually kind of wanted her to finish. The comic genious from Loveline, Adam Carolla, used to say that during sex, your body goes into a kind of Superman mode, where you become impervious to pain until well after the deed is done. I think I went into that mode. Anyway, I stayed cool and calmed her down, cause she was freaking out at this point. I took a shower and we went to bed, with me pondering the events in my life that would lead me to lying in bed with a ripped dick thanks to a maneuver called "The Octopus."
The next day when we tried to get amorous, it hurt. A lot. As men, we may try to shrug off injuries. "Oh, this broken foot? Nothing at all!" But this is one area I really didn't want to mess around with. So we both decided I should go to a doctor, stat. But apparently in Japan, doctors only specialize in a specific part of the body. So, I had to find the Penis Doctor. Luckily we did, and we also managed to go on one of the two days said Penis Doctor was in.
So me and the ex went to the hospital, and after navigating some hallways we found ourselves in the Penis Clinic (I don't think it was actually called that...but that's what it was for). They gave her an information form to fill out, and I had to pee in a cup. If you ever find yourself in a Japanese hospital, you WILL be peeing in a cup. It doesn't matter why you went in, the peeing in the cup is just non-debateable. I don't know why. I took a quick survey of the other patients in the waiting room. Mostly middle-aged and older men. Heh, don't have to think too hard about why they're here. There was another young couple, and I wondered what kind of sea animal-named maneuver had sent him here. The Sea Horse? The Jellyfish? The Manta Ray? I decided I didn't want to know. There was also a high school girl. By herself. Yes, just a high school girl, all by herself, here to see the penis doctor. I decided I didn't want to know about that either.
My ex (that bitch...sorry) starts filling out the info sheet...except she does so rather audibly...and in Japanese.
Her: "When did this happen...during sexual intercourse. But it was a blow-job, are blow-jobs sexual intercourse?"
Me: "Not according to Bill Clinton."
Her: "But, there's no blow-job options. Ok, sexual intercourse then."
Me: "Uh, honey, can you keep your voice down a bit?"
Her: "What happened....it ripped. Was cut. Or should I say tore, it kind of tore too, didn't it?"
Meanwhile, I look behind us to see an old guy staring at us, his face completely frozen in horror. I don't even want to begin to imagine the nightmares he had that night.
After a long wait, we get called in to see Mr. Penis Doctor, Ph.D, a young-looking Japanese guy who actually spoke English. There was a young female Japanese nurse in the room as well. Mr. Penis Doctor took a look at the info sheet, then says to me "Ah. So I see your penis was cut during sexual intercourse."
"A blow-job, actually." My ex corrects him. He turns and gives her a look similar to the horrified old guy in the waiting room, then says "I see." He then says, "Ok, I know this is embarrassing, but can you lay down and drop your pants?"
So I do so. The doctor puts on a pair of clean white gloves, and the nurse has yet to actually do anything but watch. The doctor then starts examining my dick...but he does so by grabbing it in random places and asking me "Does it hurt here?" Hey doc, how about I actually tell you where it's cut, and you stop grabbing my dick, ok? I bet you this guy was a master at Dodgedick. So he finally gets to the cut (tear?), takes a two second look on it, slaps some ointment on it, and says I'll be fine. I was a little uneasy about this assessment to say the least. He seemed more interested in the examination than the actual injury.
"Are you sure it's okay?" I ask. "I mean, the geography down there is forever changed."
He assures me it'll be okay, just use the ointment and don't have sex for two weeks. My face must have been pretty expressive, because he then said "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry, please ganbatte". "Ganbatte" being the Japanese word used for anything ranging from "Good luck" to "do your best" to "Hang in there." Meanwhile, the nurse STILL hasn't done anything. I'm certain her only job was to stand there and watch, so she could tell all the other nurses about it later.
And that was it. I, of course, ignored the no-sex clause, but eventually the cut healed and the pain went away. And no, I will not tell you what The Octopus is, so don't bother asking.
And the geography is still forever changed.
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