Wade was over at my place playing Madden. He wasn't thrilled he was losing. I told him to stop picking the Paradiso Politicians. Everyone knew they were the worst team in the league and the game was just being accurate. He told me to have some hometown pride.
"Hey, man, I don't want to seem like I'm staring at your dick, but...what's that? You okay?"
I was walking back to the living room with a beer. I stopped and looked down. I expected to see my fly open. Instead there was a smallish, but very noticeable, blood stain forming on my jeans. There was no chance I could lie and claim it was spilled pizza sauce from earlier.
"Oh, shit," I said.
"That's kind of troubling, dude."
"I know, shut up." I put the beer on my coffee table. I licked my thumb and rubbed it on the stain, like it was old and could wash out that easy.
"Seriously, what happened?"
"I don't want to talk about it. It's embarrassing."
"Of course it is! You've got blood seeping out of your dick. You must've caught one hell of an STD somewhere."
"It's not an STD! It's...I nicked myself shaving. Down there," I motioned to my crotch. As if he didn't know what 'down there' meant.
Wade winced and unconsciously tightened his legs, "Shaft or sack?"
"...shaft."
Wade's face pinched even tighter, "Dude, ouch."
I walked out of the living room. I picked up a fresh pair of underwear and a clean pair of pants from my dresser before I went into the bathroom. Gingerly I pulled down my pants and boxers to see the damage. It looked a lot better than I imagined. The wound wasn't gushing blood, it had only seeped through the bandage wrapped around my penis.
I hadn't told Wade the whole truth. While I did manscape occasionally I was pretty careful. I never took a razor to my crotch. I always used my beard trimmer. The most damage I'd ever done with that was nicking my sack once.
What actually happened was that the other day Beth was going down on me when a car backfired. It sounded like a gunshot and startled her. She bit down at the same moment she pulled back to find her gun. Her teeth raked down the length of my dick and clipped a bit of the head.
Seeing blood on my dick was an awful sight. The pain was hellish. I'd never lost an erection so fast. Beth was still under the impression that we were under attack. She was at the window, peering out through the blinds. I saw her touch her fingers to her lip at the taste of blood. That's when she turned back to see my cupping my hands over my crotch, crying while blood dribbled through my fingers.
"Oh, God! Baby!"
She put her gun on my dresser and rushed to me. She tried to pull my hands away, but couldn't. I didn't want to let go. I didn't want to see the horror of my mutilated genitals. I knew it couldn't possibly be as bad as I was imagining. Still, when it's your privates it's hard not to think the worst.
"Calm down, Luke, just let me see!"
"You did this to me!"
"And I'm sorry! Now let me help!"
"You've castrated me!"
"Now you're just being melodramatic. I didn't castrate ya'."
"How you know?!" Even I had to admit I was starting to get hysterical.
"Because I'd have a bit more in my mouth than a bit of blood if I had! Now move your damned hands!"
"No!"
She slapped me. Full-on, open-handed slap. In my panicked state I couldn't really feel the pain. I was going to have a welt later, but compared to the damage to my downstairs it would be nothing. Still, it got the reaction she wanted. The shock of being hit caused me to move my hands.
Beth moved in quick before I could clamp may hands back on my dick.
"Sssss...oooh, that's bad. This is gonna' need surgery. I'll call the hospital," she said.
"Really?!"
"No. It's just some torn skin. Not in the best place, but you'll live to please me again...not for a while, though."
She walked into the bathroom. She returned with some bandages, Neosporin and rubbing alcohol.
"Luke...it's a good thing you're already mad at me."
"Why?"
"Because you're really not gonna' like me in a second."
Beth poured the rubbing alcohol onto my penis. She may as well have been pouring acid from what it felt like.
Since then I'd been painfully aware of the damage. Luckily the constant pain kept me from getting an erection and tearing open my scabs too much. Until they tore open by themselves today.
I gently peeled off the soaked bandage, fearing what terrible horrors awaited me underneath. Images of a gangrenous wang drifted through my brain. I imagined the doctors trying not to gag while they surgically amputated it. I thought about the loneliness of the hospital bed, laying there bemoaning my fate. An entire lifetime flashed by, everyone happy but me. Beth having left me a long time before, returning to Wyatt and his fully-functional manhood.
Just like before, though, the true sight wasn't anything close to what I had imagined. My penis wasn't going to be winning any beauty pageants anytime soon, but it didn't look like Frankenstein's monster’s cock. It did look like it was trying. The flesh around the scrapes, where the bandage had been, was pale white. The scrapes themselves looked fine. They were smaller and weren't as vividly red as last time. The nick at the tip of my penis was still bad and that was the part which was bleeding. Other than that it seemed to be healing fine. It would probably be going quicker if the wounds weren't on a part of my body that I was constantly using. Like a cut on your knuckle which opens up every time you flexed your hand. I wasn't having sex, but I still had to manipulate it for aiming into the toilet.
It didn't seem like the little wound should have bled as much as it did. I took a bandage, dabbed a little Neosporin on it and wrapped it around the tip of my penis. I figured it was time to leave the rest of the scrape un-bandaged. I made sure not to wrap the bandage too tight. It would probably fall off, but that was preferable to cutting the blood off to my dick and having that fall off.
I put my fresh pair of underwear on. Then I slipped on my jeans. I made sure to pick out the black pair so that if I bled through them then they would be less noticeable. I washed my hands and went back out into the living room.
Wade was nice enough not to mention anything about the situation. I did notice him wince again when I sat down in my recliner. We started the game back up. Wade continued to lose. He only got one touchdown because I was distracted by a knock at my door.
I was about to get up and answer it when the door opened. Beth stood there, smiling and holding a case of beer.
"Howdy, fellas!" she said.
"Hey, Beth," Wade said. By this point he was used to her showing up. I no longer was keeping her to myself. He was distracted by the game now. His kick went wide and completely missed the goal posts, "Shit! Why can't O'Brien kick straight?!"
"I thought you were working tonight," I said to Beth.
"That fell through at the last minute. I was all set to go when I found out my client got shot this afternoon."
My eyes bugged. Beth saw and shot a hand to her mouth, nearly dropping her beer. Luckily it didn't seem like Wade was listening to us. While I introduced him to her there was no way I was going to tell him what she actually did. He was furiously clicking through menus trying to re-organize his shitty lineup into a slightly less shitty one. If he heard what Beth said he showed no sign of it. He was switching between two kickers, comparing their similarly awful stats.
"...something happened..." she said, "and I was unable to meet with the client... who was bringing a horse to my ranch."
For a woman who lived half her life in deceit, and was living under a mostly assumed name, she was a terrible liar. If my friend had actually been paying attention we'd be having the awkward conversation about my girlfriend being a super villain and not the rancher I told him she was.
"That's a shame."
"So I decided to pop by. I know ya' had this date planned with your buddy."
"It's not a date," Wade and I said in unison.
"Don't ya'll get your panties in a bunch. I ain't gonna' ruin it. Keep playing your game. I won't interrupt."
"But you hate this game."
"True, I'd rather be working. Or hanging out with my friends. No offense, Wade."
"None taken," Wade said.
"But Dana is on a date with Bl...her husband and Sarah isn't feeling up to going out tonight."
"How's she doing?" I asked.
"Not too good. She's going through one a' her tough times. Happens occasionally. She'll get real down in the dumps, won't leave her apartment, won't take any jobs. The most I can get out of her are a few texts telling me she's fine. Which she ain't."
"Why don't you go over and cheer her up?" I asked.
"Won't do any good. I've tried in the past. She won't answer the door. Just sits behind it crying. It's a real sad thing."
"What's wrong with your friend?" Wade asked.
"She's got real bad depressive issues," Beth responded, this time with the truth, "She was in a bad accident a few years back, she got disfigured. Now she goes through these rough patches. She's on medication to control it, but..."
"Oh, that's too bad," Wade said.
"Happy thoughts now, boys! Sarah'll be fine and it won't help her none to have us moping for her. Who's winning?"
"Jerk-face Luke over there."
"That's my boy! Kick his ass!" Beth took her beer and slung it into my fridge. She returned to the living room with one in her hand and sat down on the floor. She sat in between my legs, spreading them wider than I would've liked. My pants tightened and put more pressure on my injured penis. I felt it throbbing and not in the pleasant way. Waves of pain radiated out from the wound. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to draw attention back to my embarrassing injury. I would grin and bear it.
The pain wasn't so bad that it kept me from completely trouncing Wade. He demanded an immediate rematch. He picked the Politicians again while I left it to chance and picked a team randomly. I ended up with the second worst team in the league. Still, there was no competition. Wade somehow lost even worse the second time. He almost put a dent in my wall by throwing his controller.
After that we decided to watch a movie. Being a gracious winner I let Wade choose what to watch even though I knew it would doom us all to some terrible action movie which only lasted a week in theaters before showing up on streaming. Sure enough he picked some Die Hard rip-off about terrorists taking over the White House. After a few beers it turned into an enjoyable enough experience.
Since Beth was still sitting between my legs I took the opportunity to rub her shoulders. She enjoyed it, but she tensed up whenever the action got intense in the movie. Except during one of the talking scenes she grew so relaxed that she tilted her head back. She head butted me in the crotch, an unpleasant experience in and of itself, made worse by my wound. I had just stumbled across a serious knot in her shoulder so that when I tensed up she thought I was just working it out.
The movie ended, Wade left. Normally he would wish me good-sex instead of goodnight. He was still commiserating about my damaged dick. After he was gone I turned to face Beth.
"What do you want to do? Go out, get a drink? Or do you want to watch another movie?" I asked.
"I got a better idea." She started unbuckling her belt.
"I'm...still not able to do that. Not for a while."
"Oh, I know." She slid her pants and underwear down to her ankles. She kicked them off into a corner. She sat in my recliner and draped her leg over the arm rest, spreading herself wide, "I figure ya' can entertain me some with your tongue while your guy is on the injured reserve. Now get to it, boy! And mind the teeth."
