It might seem funny at first glance, but people who totally depends on others sometimes suffer silent agony. Someone who works in the medecine field told me how difficult it can be to discuss some subjects with people who take care of heavy handicaps.
I did this picture because I sincerly feel sorry when I hear about these situations, but I also believe there is an element of hotness which might - who knows - make some people feel comforted if they happens to see it.
Only every two or three months??? Poor boy...
ReplyDeleteThis pictue reminds me of when I was young and my behind became infected. The Dr said something about Impetaigo and that I may have gotten it in school or some public restroom.
ReplyDeleteThey had some ointment that had to be applied three times a day and mom would have me lie on the bed on a towel while she raised my legs all the way up. If my sister or one of my aunts was there to help it was easier as they could hold the legs up and apart as needed. Mom had to apply the ointment all around the buttocks as well as in the groin and to the testes and penis. That was embarassing because as soon as I felt they were looking at me there I would get a stirring and when she touched the sensitive parts It would get aroused no matter what I tried to distract my mind about. I thought if I concentrated on the names of the baseball players or some multiplication tables it would not happen as when things began to swell my mom or my aunt would say somehing about it, especially my aunt. I was about thirteen and missed about two weeks of school so it did not spread to the other kids.
Once I was allowed to return to school (The last of the eighth grade) I had to report to the nurses office every day just before lunch where she would have me strip and I was examined. She was an older woman to me but probably not really much more than thirty. And one or another of the nuns always came in to be there when the exam was going on. Sometimes they had me on an exam table with my legs pulled back so everything was visible, but towards the end when most of the infection was gone all I had to do was remove my shoes, pants and shorts so she could put the ointment on my behind and then turn around so she could apply it to any area in the front still infected. That also caused an arrousal sometimes and the good sister helping would "Tsk-task" like I was committing a mortal sin or something.
Daniel
Wow, only every two or three months?? If I didn't "drain" at least every two or three days I'd have made quite a mess of the sheets when I awoke from a dream, at that age. Poor boy, indeed!
ReplyDeleteWell, it's not all about the boy's needs. It's quite an embarrassing task for a mother or a sister. So it's just a fair compromise.
DeleteQuelle frustration pour ce jeune garçon ! À l'âge où les hormones sont en ébullition, il est très difficile de concevoir pour ce malheureux que le seul moyen possible d'assouvir ses pulsions est désormais inexploitable. C'est dans des situations telles que celle-ci que le célibat est préjudiciable, la pénétration ne nécessite pas l'usage des mains.
ReplyDeleteLes nuits seront jonché de joyeux rêves et les slips mouillé au réveil. Afin d'éviter un changement de draps quotidien, atténuer le travail de la mère et améliorer le confort du garçon, il est établi que les couches seront de rigueur. Aucune contestation n'est possible.
Malgré ces orgasmes du sommeil, la frustration demeurera. Par conséquent, tous les trois mois, la mère se chargera du "drainage". Les aspects tels que les hormones en feu, le pucelage du garçon et bien sûr la douceur et l'expertise d'une main féminine aideront à aboutir immédiatement à une puissante évacuation et à une jouissance spontanée. Prévisible.
La durée assez longue entre chaque caresse est justifiée par l'âge du garçon, l'infirmière considérant qu'à 20 ans la volupté n'est pas encore un "besoin, mais seulement un plaisir", et la mère s'accordant sur elle. Quelle belle comédie ! Sachant qu'au même âge, l'acte charnel faisait partie de son quotidien, comme maintenant d'ailleurs.
Cette image est tout simplement prodigieuse, alliant frustration sexuelle et humiliation (le garçon étant exposé de manière totalement impudique). Elle traduit admirablement l'injustice d'une régression, avec trois mois d'attente pour une stimulation de 15 secondes, mener par sa mère qui, je pense, n'hésite pas à se faire ramoner l'abricot chaque soir.
Bon courage à ce garçon, sa frustration n'est pas près de s'arrêter !
Comme presque à chaque fois, le garçon horrifié dira en aparté à l'infirmière son refus que sa Maman intervienne. " Mais non, ce n'est pas de l'inceste grand beta, c'est juste du pragmatisme dans ces cas-là... vous verrez dans quelques semaines... "
DeleteEt comme à chaque fois, le garçon attendra impatiemment que sa Maman le soulage de son agonie...
Exactement :)
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