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2006-08-04 - 8:22 p.m.

I got to try out the tan-through bathing suit today. They say that although the sunlight can shine through it, people can�t see through it, dry or wet. However, I noticed that I nevertheless have to be careful, because the fabric is very thin and there is no inner lining (which would block the rays of the sun), and therefore if I am not paying attention, one can definitely tell that I am circumcised, for example. There�s a fine line between actually �seeing� something and �you are so close to seeing it that you may as well be seeing it.� I think if this bathing suit were a movie, it would be X-rated�oh, I�m sorry, NC-17 rated. But if while lying on the air mattress I kind of fluff the suit up a little, then the rating slides down to a �G�, and I�m not using �G� as they use it in hip-hop speak (as in �G-unit�). That�s what it would be if I were NOT fluffing up the suit. Or, if I fluffed the suit up but nevertheless had just been visited by a fluffer.

Okay, as long as I am talking about my dick, I guess it�s time for a �dick� entry. Not that I purposely wanted to write a dick entry, it�s just that my dick happened to be the main operating character in this particular story. It�s not sexual, though, although it might be funny. I mean, it wasn�t funny, but it�s okay if you think it was, or is.

It was Saturday night at the Director�s Guild, and I had a ticket for the movie, Another Gay Movie, in Theater Number 1, the DG�s main theater. This is the time and location where Outfest slots what it expects to be one of its biggest movies of the festival. And I guess that they were right, in that Another Gay Movie is now already in general release.

I have some long-term Outfest friends, Jim and Stephen, and when we know that we are going to attend the same movie, whichever of us gets there first saves a place in line for the other. I was there first; in fact, I was at the very head of the line. Jim and Stephen came pretty soon after, and then as others arrived, I saw more and more of my other Outfest friends joining the line. For a moment I thought that I should have started the practice of saving places for some of these other friends, too, but then I realized that if I did that, I�d be saving places for about the first three rows of the line as it snaked around the maze. So I was there with a lot of people that I knew.

I wrote about my having-to-go-to-the-bathroom problems in my previous entry. But even though I had so many people to talk to, I didn�t want to make that same mistake, so I excused myself, saying that I better go to the bathroom before we go in. Jim said, �Hurry back, but we�ll save your place.� �Oh, I�ll only be a minute,� I assured him.

I sat on the toilet in one of the stalls and just casually happened to look down at my dick. Gee, it looked like it had a little blackhead or something on the edge of the coroneal ridge. I hadn�t noticed that before, but maybe something about the bright fluorescent lighting in the DG men�s room made this stand out. But no biggie, I�ve had a few of those before, not very many, but some. The head of the penis is some kind of an oil-producing region, I guess, or at least I think that is how they are when a person is uncircumcised. Isn�t that what causes the build-up of smegma in an uncircumcised penis, that isn�t easily washed away and therefore collects under the foreskin? I really don�t know very much about it, as in my whole life I�ve only seen maybe two or three uncut penises in real life, and none of them up close. I really don�t know how they work.

So it�s reasonable that some of this �oil� might collect in a pore and make a blackhead. When I�ve had them before, I simply got rid of them by squeezing them. What comes out is not a creamy oil like with a facial blackhead. This stuff is more like what I think of as lanolin.

So, before leaving the john so that I could go back to the Outfest line, I squeezed off this (what looked like a) blackhead.

However, instead of producing what in the past has looked like a thin yellowish-beige ribbon of lanolin, I got a dark-red bead of blood coming up out of a perfectly round hole that had just a second ago been plugged closed by this blackhead-looking thing. This bead of blood got as big as a typical pearl, and then due to its weight dripped down the side of the head of my penis and splashed into the toilet bowl. And this started a constant stream of blood, welling up and out of this hole in the head of my dick, running down my penis, and reddening the water in the toilet. What the hell?

I pulled off a bunch of toilet paper and pressed it tight against this wound and held it there like I would as if I had cut my cheek shaving. After a while of doing this, I pulled the toilet paper away, which was quite soaked with blood, and the blood just kept beading up and spilling out of the hole like I hadn�t done a thing to stop it. This was going to be harder than I thought, I thought, so I tried again with another wad of toilet paper, pressing it harder this time and holding it longer. But, once again, when I took the toilet paper away, the blood continued to flow unabated. I kept trying, again and again, holding the toilet paper longer and longer, but each time when I took the toilet paper away, the blood just kept coming out again.

It�s a wonder I didn�t get scared (although I did wonder if it might be possible for me to bleed to death sitting right there), but mostly I was annoyed at being trapped there in the toilet stall when what I really wanted to do was rejoin my friends.

I began to think of what else I should do. I began to have visions of having to go to the Emergency Room to get stitches, and yet this wouldn�t do me any good, I�d simply bleed to death in the Emergency Room, because my little wound would have no priority against all the gunshot wounds and Saturday night heart attacks or whatever. I also wondered if I should attempt to ask somebody for help (in the next stall?), but couldn�t figure out how to actually phrase the words, plus I didn't have any idea what anybody could actually do for me if I did manage to ask them for help.

Meanwhile, I kept attempting to stop the bleeding with toilet paper and kept on filling up the toilet bowl with blood. I mused at how the penis is, well, after all, a blood source. I mean, sure, every part of the body is bathed with blood, but the penis has a special relationship with blood. Of course, needless to say, though, I didn�t have an erection throughout this whole thing.

I finally decided that I needed to see some kind of a medical professional, and surely Outfest must have at least a nurse on call here at the Director�s Guild for the festival. I know, for example, that when the school where I work has their annual fund-raising fair, they have a whole first aid room set up, and it is manned by several doctors and nurses. Wouldn�t Outfest do something similar for this major 13-day-long film festival with thousands and thousands of participants?

I decided if I wrapped my penis up with enough absorbent toilet paper, I might be able to make it out of the bathroom and over to the main administrative booth, whereupon I hoped I would be taken to behind some curtain where I could surrender myself into the care of somebody who knew what to do.

I was worried about my clothes though, which I figured were the worst for hiding from view the seepage of blood. My underwear was okay, a burgundy-colored pair of briefs, but outside of that I was wearing a very light, almost white pair of khaki shorts and a ribbed grey t-shirt. One drop of blood would ruin either one.

I thoroughly wrapped my dick up in layers of toilet paper, then folded the head down sort of �inside� my balls, wrapped around some more toilet paper on that whole package, then pulled down my t-shirt and pulled up my khaki shorts. I then hurried out into the crowded lobby (not even taking time to wash my hands) and began to ask somebody in charge if there were a nurse around. A security guard who worked for the Director�s Guild came forth and asked me what I wanted. I told him I wanted a nurse or a doctor, because I had a medical problem.

�What kind of a medical problem?� he asked me.

�I�d rather discuss it with the nurse,� I said, �but I really do need one.�

Well, they didn�t have one; this wasn�t something that Outfest had felt that they needed. I guess if a real medical emergency came up, they�d just call 911, which didn�t seem like a reasonable option for me. The security guard kept asking me what I needed, could he help me, but I told him that he couldn�t help me, but I thanked him for his time.

Then, I had an inspiration and ran over to the woman working behind the counter at the snack bar. I pushed my way ahead of all the people in line and asked her if she had a baggy, some Saran Wrap, or some other kind of plastic bag. I was thankful that throughout the festival when I had gotten coffee or some other item from her, I had been putting some change in her �tip� jar. Without even asking me what I needed it for, she immediately produced for me a plastic Rite-Aid bag, asking if this would do.

�Perfect!� I said, and hurried back to the bathroom with the plastic bag.

I went back to my same stall and was happy when I looked down at myself that no blood was showing through my pants. There sure was blood soaking the toilet paper, though, when I pulled my underpants off. And yep, when I pulled the bloody mess away from my dick, the blood was still flowing just like it did at the very start of this ordeal.

This time I REALLY wrapped it all up with toilet paper, almost as if I were making a cast out of paper. Then I put everything inside of the plastic bag, and carefully spread the rest of the bag all over my crotch area, and held it all in place with my underpants. Pulling the t-shirt down tight to cover my crotch, and then pulling my khaki shorts back up, I was as ready as I was going to be. I went out of the stall, washed my hands, and went back to my place at the head of the line.

�Where WERE you?� Jim and Stephen demanded. �You were gone so long, we got worried.�

�Yeah,� chimed in another guy, �we were wondering if we should save a seat in the theater for you, it�s just about time for us to go in.�

So, of course, I had to explain the whole thing to all of them. They thought it was very funny and didn�t treat it anywhere near as seriously as I thought it should be treated, but then again, I looked perfectly normal now, standing there in front of them in good spirits. But I feared that any minute a great flood of blood was going to start soaking out of my crotch. When I mentioned that to them, Stephen said, �Well at least the fabric of the Director�s Guild theater seats are already blood red!�

�Yes, and I am thankful of that!� I said.

�I hope for your sake the movie isn�t too erotic,� Jim winked. �Wouldn�t want you to suddenly turn into a squirting blood fountain!�

I laughed at that�but really figured getting an erection was my least-likely event.

We were then allowed into the theater and we took our seats. Everybody then forgot about my bloody penis problem. I, on the other hand, kept checking my crotch to see if any blood was showing. The first sign of blood and I would have gotten out of there.

The movie was okay, kind of silly, but funny, and it did have some good-looking guys in it. It was a hot evening and with all that plastic bag in my crotch, I kept feeling moisture building up underneath the plastic, which I figured probably was sweat, but it also felt like it could have been blood. So I wasn�t completely secure, but my periodic glances down at my crotch revealed that all was well, so I relaxed and got into the movie and then even stayed for the Q&A with the director and cast afterwards. Then when the Q&A was over, Jim, Stephen, and I waited for the cast to come out into the lobby and we got to talk with some of our favorite ones. Still no blood.

I was a little bit leery of taking my pants off once I got home, but the Rite-Aid bag had protected everything. The toilet paper, though, looked like a fully soaked maxi-pad�but the blood did finally coagulate and I was left with a little plug of blood closing up that hole. Now I have a little more understanding of how women must feel when they have their period; there must always be that little feeling of insecurity, �is the maxi pad working, or am I showing?�

I also realized that the perfect solution (although the Rite-Aid bag worked beautifully) would have been to have slipped on a condom over the toilet paper. Surely Outfest was giving condoms away somewhere, or some stud there in the lobby would have been carrying one in his pocket. But no matter, it worked out anyway.

In time, the coagulated blood plug disappeared and everything got back to normal. Still, I did learn one lesson, though�never do any �maintenance� on your dick when you aren�t safe at home. No telling what might happen. Next time, the whole damn thing might fall off. Don�t want to be doing any Bobbitts, here.


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