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The Nipple Ring and After

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I had thought about getting my nipple pierced for quite a while--or at least it seemed like a long while back in the summer of 1993. Body piercing, RESearch's Modern Primitives, and Club Fuck had all their share in the local limelight by the time I marched into The Gauntlet's pristine location in West Hollywood. Pierced nips had seemed to adorn every other bare chest at the very vanilla gay pride events, and those chests were largely young and buff, not graying and leather-framed. One of The Gauntlet's own queer poster boys had even marched in the parade, lifting his kilt to show off his pincushion dick to an appreciative audience.

But my Significant Other felt none of the erotic attraction I felt toward these relatively minor body mods. After looking under the kilt at the parade, he swore that if I got my dick pierced, he wouldn't touch it.

So I settled for a nipple ring rather than a p.a., and Bobby at The Gauntlet quickly and efficiently performed the procedure. At first I was rather disappointed--I had expected the 10 gauge ring to hurt a little more, and the blood to flow a little more copiously. I had imagined myself throwing back my head in a roar and shooting cum across the room. But the procedure unfortunately did not require me to remove my pants, and the piercing itself was hardly memorable.

The constant sexual stimulation I felt over the next week was another story. After Bobby had finished up, I put my shirt on and casually browsed for a while at a nearby bookstore. However, while my nipple ring may not have shown through the shirt, my hard dick kept my jeans tented, in the bookstore, on the way home, in bed, while I slept...I have not experienced such an endorphin-drenched sexual frenzy before or since. Just my chest rubbing my shirt or, better still, rolling over on my (only mildly painful) nipple was enough to produced a pool of precum. I kept my S.O. busy, even though my left nipple seemed to have slipped into a carefully-crafted blind spot.

Caring for my nipple piercing greatly outlasted the sexual delirium. I continued to rotate and rinse my ring in a small cup of salt water 2 or 3 times daily for three months, and only by that time did the ring move freely through my nipple without any subsequent crusting. Late in the fall, however, I took the ring out before a doctor's appointment (one less thing to explain, I reasoned), and later I found myself unable to bend the ring's hoop back into place to meet its ring-clasp. Instead of replacing it, I decided instead to allow the hole to close. Although I had greatly enjoyed having the piercing done, and like the feel of a pierced nipple, its negatives finally outweighed the positives. My S.O.'s continued distaste for piercings and the boringly predictable curiosity of strangers whenever I took my shirt off in public combined to win the day.

Five years later, all I have to remember the piercing is a few photographs, a bent ring, and a slightly more prominent left nipple. Body piercings, meanwhile, have gone from their still-quasi exotic state in 1993 to a near-respectability in 1998.

I do miss my nipple ring, though, and still get turned on by piercings in others. And even though my S.O. still swears he won't touch my dick if I get it pierced, I still occasionally contemplate just where I should have that p.a. piercing positioned...


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 01 Oct. 1998
in Nipple Piercing

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