"... if you were to take a look at the end of my d*ck." Nope, you definitely don’t want stories to start out like that. No sir. Sounds painful, ugly, or gross. And in this case, it’s all three. No, you can be pretty sure that if someone says, “if you were to take a look at the end of my d*ck,” that’s not the start of a good story. But, like watching a train wreck, most of us can’t avert our eyes, so here is the rest of the story …. It all began last Friday morning, at the Houstonian. I was working out, lifting weights. I had just finished three sets of incline presses with two 60# dumbbells. I went to rerack the weights. The dumbbells are on a weight rack made of two angle irons about a foot apart. The dumbbells sit in between the two angle irons with the weights resting on the two angle irons. The angle irons are about 3 feet off the ground, and are inclined to make it easier to take the dumbbells out and put them back in. Well, I am a small guy (5’7”, 150#), so carting around two 60# dumbbells is not easy. I was carrying them back to the rack with my arms fully extended to the floor. If I get up on my tiptoes and lean over the rack, I can just set the dumbbells in the rack without having to actually lift up the weights (amazing what a weightlifter will do to avoid expending any additional energy). So, like I have done many times before, I went to rerack the weights. Only this time, unbeknownst to me, Mr. Johnson (as he prefers to be referred to in polite society) slipped his head over the first angle iron to see what was on the other side. I released the two dumbbells. OH. MY. GOD. (Yetti, stop here.) FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU*K. OH, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*T. White light like the burning intensity of a 1000 suns (apologies to Jeff H.). MOTHERFU**ER. The pain was excruciating. D*MN. SH*T. F*CK. I felt faint -- I thought I was going to pass out if I didn’t hurl first. I WANTED TO SCREAM AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS: HOLY MUTHERFU**ER!!!! But I was not in the privacy of my own home, nor even in the high school weight room. I was at the Houstonian, surrounded by silicon and polite society. JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH!! My legs were wobbly and my knees were weak. SOMEBODY SHOOT ME. Sweat pored from my brow. HOLY CHRIST, THE PAIN IS UNFU*KING BELIEVABLE. I looked for a mat so I could curl up and die. Maybe it would look like I was trying some new stretching exercises. OH MY FU*KING GOD. Today, if you were to take a look at the very tip of Mr. Johnson’s head, you would see a very dark purplish/black/yellow bruise the size of a quarter. The jury is still out, but I think he will live. Gives a whole new meaning to being careful when you RACK your weights. So, next time someone starts a story, “If you were to take a look at the head of my d*ck,” run, run away as fast as you can ….
I think that if the Queen of England, were it possible, had experienced what you did, she would not have worded as eloquently as you did here. My knees were weak just reading this.
We will dispatch a team as quickly as possible to put you out of your misery. There are some things man should not have to live through.
Man, I hear you. I had a similar incident happened when I was at the Jack in the Box drive through window.
I don't wanna jinx this, but I think this thread could win some awards..... Paging Pole, Paging pole....Pole where are you?
I don't think just a kiss is going to make this better.... Coming from a girl, I can only offer Pipe my deepest, most heartfelt sympathy. And the advice of wearing tighty-whiteys next time. Somewhat similar: My coworker woke up the night after Halloween with a hickey at the end of his penis.
Membership to the Houstonian - $5000 1 pair of boxers - $8 60 lb dumbbell - $20 Dropping said dumbbell on your c0ck and telling everyone on the internet about it - priceless
I had the same thing happen once actually except to turn the head of my member purple/black I was riding my bike really fast and the brakes went out and I ran into a mailbox. I feel/felt your pain...
Ugh, why do I keep opening this thread to read people's replies. I must be sick and perverse to voluntarily read people's painful experiences with God's most precious gift.
I've never gone black and blue, nor would I want to, but just like in What about Mary, I zipped Mr. Johnson up pretty good. It took me about a half hour to pull that thing out of there. If you ever need to do this use oil and just yank. Forget about unzipping. That is too much pain. You are better off just yanking it out. And Ironically, I had a date on her way over to my place that day. I got it out about 5 minutes before her arival. Phew. No need to call in the authorities.
