Once again, this afternoon, at work, in the heat of an early summer heatwave, I can’t do anything but masturbate or think about masturbating. My balls are stretched by a 600-gram weight. I’m barely hard, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as I feverishly stroke the head of my penis, I feel almost in a trance. I can hardly describe the immense joy I feel at having a penis to masturbate with. I’m drunk, drunk on the pleasure of masturbation.