A few years ago I learned about Tantra (the practice of postponing or doing without sexual climax, in order to prolong the intense orgasmic sensations of "almost-going-to-cum"). At the time I thought it was the weirdest thing on earth, which only a perverted and self-denying soul would consider. But my fascination got the better of me, I tried it, and discovered--lo and behold!--that it makes sex more intense and fun than I'd ever imagined.
At A Glance Author anonymous When It just happened Artist Paul King Studio Cold Steel Location SF/Castro I had a similar reaction when first reading about genital piercings: Oh my GOD, how could anyone do that? And why? And, umm, does it really feel good later? (Unfortunately, that question is seldom answered in these posts, which are usually about the process of piercing rather than about what it feels like once you're used to it years later).
But again, fascination got the better of me, and I started imagining what such a piercing would be like. I finally decided that the apadravya would be best: it is supposed to feel great for your (female) partner, good for you, and you can still pee standing up. So now my divorce is basically finished, and my girlfriend has moved away, I have the time and the opportunity to go for it.
Yesterday the stars aligned: I had time off from work, an sore ankle to keep me from running, and a month before I next see my girlfriend. On a recommendation from another piercer, I went to Paul King (with 15 years experience!) in The City (SF) for the apadravya I've been pondering for awhile.
The wrinkle was, I don't like pain (and I still remember the injection into my balls for a vasectomy years ago... OWWWW!). I'm a recently-divorced father of two, research scientist, computer geek, and pretty conservative in clothes (except for a weakness for wearing form-fitting shirts to show off the results of my gym workouts). No piercings, no fashion sense, no hipness whatsoever. The last kind of person you'd expect to do this... and one so squeamish he even shies away from the needle in giving blood.
So how does a total pain-averse wimp like me get one of the most painful piercings there is? Be a smart wimp. I heard about EMLA somewhere: it's an anaesthetic cream that numbs whatever skin it touches. But it's prescription-only here in the US, so I had to order it from one of those Canadian online pharmacies to be mailed to me here. I did that a few weeks ago, in anticipation, and it arrived no problem (I bought the large tube, since I didn't know how much I'd need or whether I'd need a second try).
BUT... when I mentioned it during a phone conversation earlier that day, Paul mentioned that since he is not technically a "medical professional" (in the government-regulation sense), he's not allowed even to know that I used a controlled substance...and he's scrupulously ethical and careful, so I didn't want to put him in an awkward position by telling him I wanted to use it. So I did the obvious: I used it without telling him, gooping the white EMLA onto the glans, wrapping it in plastic wrap, and rushing into The City before it wore off.
Spent a while going over aftercare, size options (I chose a 8-ga barbell), what to expect. Then, right before the piercing, I went to the bathroom to clean up (without telling him why, of course). The downside of using EMLA was that my penis head really was totally numb (like your lip in a dentist's office), it felt very odd, and my balls squirmed when he touched it. I really felt kind of weird.
The upside is that the actual piercing DIDN'T HURT! I didn't even know when he had clamped my glans in the forceps, until I looked up and saw it flattened into a pancake with a little dot where the needle would come out. Then, for the piercing itself, I did what he said: I breathed in, and then out forcefully, and he pushed, and... nothing! I literally didn't feel the needle at all. It was over...Whew!
Paul congratulated me on how well I did, but I accepted the compliment rather sheepishly, since I couldn't even tell him why I didn't shriek in pain. Maybe he thinks I'm really self-controlled or macho or strong-willed or mentally clear; I don't know, and I can't set him straight. All I know is that the painful part is over, and my gamble on using an "illegal drug" paid off handsomely.
So now I'm in for the long haul: wait for the bleeding to stop, soak daily, wash, don't swim, use condoms. I won't know for months whether it feels as fun as it's supposed to, so maybe I'll post next year with a "before and after" report. And maybe I'll find something to do with the unused remainder of the large tube of anaesthetic cream...