by Bruce P. Grether I’m masturbating in the predawn quiet downstairs in the house. The air outside the house is muggy and full of mosquitoes, however, indoors I’m comfortable, shirt-cocking and using coconut oil for lubrication. Caressing my erection, I walk about, I stand, I do slow knee-bends. My penis feels hard as a branch, yet it’s also the silkiest smoothest thing in existence; it’s thick and warm and intensely alive and it seems to fill the entire Universe! Part of me