‘Tis an ill wind …

Whilst it was not by design, it was inevitable that as soon as I moved into the spare bedroom, nearly 3 months ago, I would make the most of being able to could jerk off as often as I wanted. When I was sleeping in Our celibate bed, if I wanted a wank when I went to bed, I either had to seek solitude in the bathroom, or go to bed before my Wife and hope I could shoot my load and deposit the necessary wad of tissues in the bin before She came upstairs. If I felt the need in the morning, a frantic thrashing of gristle was required while She was in the shower. And should I be plagued by insomnia, a sedative shuffle in the wee small hours would not be an option due to the sleeping figure beside me. Now, with a bed to myself, I could enjoy a leisurely stroke (with porn, if desired) with negligible worry of interruption.

It took a further two months to wake up to the next pervy benefit.

It is no secret, Dear Reader, that ever since I saw a Playgirl photo set of a guy with decidedly pendulous bollocks, some 15yrs ago, I have wanted a slacker sack. My proclivity for wearing ball stretchers being the result. Whilst feeling a pound of steel hanging from my nuts is a genuine pleasure during the day, it is not always practical – if I’m at all active there is a significant chance of some undesired tweakage and the same sensation as a humiliating kick in the crotch. Now the received wisdom is that, if you want to stretch your balls permanently, a protracted period of diligence is required. Indeed, 24/7 for 8-12 weeks is recommended on the Secret Leather website, in order to achieve 15mm of stretch. I simply can’t dedicate that much time to distorting my dangly bits. If only I could at least dedicate 6 or 8hrs a day … oh … hang on … I’m alone in bed for that, every day … so I’ve started wearing one or two stretchers most nights. The down side is that I now wake with a raging erection at least once in the middle of the night and they are some of the hardest hard-ons I’ve been aware of for many years. Though it’s easy to deal with those … now that I’m sleeping alone.

That’s all very well, I hear you cry, but are there any diurnal benefits? Well I’m glad you asked, Curious Reader!

Perversely it’s taken me until the last few week to realise that, now that I am dressing and undressing exclusively unobserved (excluding when I go to the gym ‡) I can wear whatever underwear I fancy, with complete impunity. There’s no danger I’m going to be interrogated about my disposition towards having a strip of fabric pulled tight up my arse crack, justify the vanity of see-through trunks, or having to explain that my lace undies are manties not panties. Lets be honest, when it cones to unconventional underwear, if you have to ask, you’ll probably never get it!
Admittedly I need to think a little carefully about the laundry, but as I am responsible for the lions’ share of domestic duties, it’s not a huge chore to keep my smallest smalls out of sight and out of mind.

And y’know what, Dear Reader? I might miss sleeping with my Wife, and fucking Her even more so, but in a screwed up marriage such as Ours, there are certainly some up sides to sleeping alone.

‡ I pack a thong with my gym kit and when changing room is quiet enough, after I shower, I will hastily put this on, and hope I can get a pair trousers on before anyone is in sight. Just for kicks.

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