It's engorged with blood
to FEEL you better, it's bringing life to the surface to make a connection to something important to it, heat is communication, it's a union, a discourse
it pinches and rolls and clenches and strains and writhes, it reacts to your touch and to the anticipation of you, it's all alight and sparking and free to set off, hardly needing an order to things
and when it does so it pushes the blood, bulk fluid moves around, it strains and streams past, it throbs and pools against the limit and press on the skin
and you feel it, and it feels your heat, and the motion is once again told to run it's course, but it's clenching now, shaking, at it's limit, all burnt up and full of salt, the charge is all spent. Things loosen, and when they do they start to flow, and all begins to be restored and the tension comes back, it's slower, less lightning and more strength, a stability that couldn't be there when the explosion was filling every last space in the balloon. The heat is melded with your heat, it's a communication, the motion blends with the motion through the push and pull of it's environs, life pulses against you in rhythm because the rhythm allows it to pulse, to be close, to be felt, to feel, to touch, to be warm
I used up all my lube and by the time the new batch sets properly properly sets properly I'll be asleep, it's ass
not literally though cos I'm waiting for the lube to stt
anyway I came to the realization that other things in life can be beautiful and vibrant and worth feeling, worth pressing into and around, that aren't jsut cocks. The property is more universal.