Restoring Mr. Happy

Clayton has had a fulfilling sex life since his teenage days. Now in his late fifties, he can no longer get it up. Will a special powder help revive him?

Part One

When I was in elementary school, I, Clayton Davies, recall watching a movie on television one night with my father. Made in 1964, its title was The Long Ships. It starred Richard Widmark. I only remember a little bit about it. What I do recall, however, was a scene where a conquering group of marauders invade a harem and proceed to force themselves on the defeated king’s beautiful and scantily clad wives. Of course, because the movie was made in the first half of the 1960s, there was no nudity nor anything overtly sexual shown on the screen. The men were just lustfully chasing the females throughout their living quarters and catching one or two of them, but that didn’t stop me from getting the first erection I’d ever had in my life.

It happened so suddenly, and I was quite a naïve boy at the time. There was no sex education in schools in those days. I did not understand what was occurring within my young body nor why. The physical sensation of feeling my penis stiffen actually worried me. For a few minutes, I was genuinely afraid that it would stay hard forever and not return to its normal flaccid self. It did eventually soften, of course, much to my relief. I said nothing about it to anyone—including my father who was oblivious to anything happening to me. He was just enjoying the movie.

Perhaps a year later, I was summoned by my 14-year-old neighbor, a boy named Billy Jackson. “Hey, Clayton!” he said. “Come into my house and see what I just found!” He took me down to his cluttered basement and showed me his 20-year-old brother’s supposedly secret stash of pornographic magazines. This was entirely new to me; I had never seen anything like them before. I was only vaguely aware that such things existed. This was 1968. Porn was nowhere near as prevalent as it is today. Furthermore, my family was an extremely conservative bunch in every possible way. (I sometimes wondered how my strait-laced parents ever managed to conceive me!)

Billy immediately opened one of the mags and flipped the pages until he got to the centerfold. A striking Dutch brunette was featured. “Look at her, Clayton! What great tits! I’d like to play with them and suck on them for hours. Wouldn’t you?” Indeed, those protuberant breasts were easily her most prominent feature. The title of the photo essay was “Hilly Hails from Holland.” Hilly she was, indeed!

She had a hairy vagina that she spread open for the benefit of the lucky photographer. She also had a naughty expression on her face. I immediately felt that same sensation that had run through my nether regions when I watched the harem scene from The Long Ships. Billy took his lust for Hilly a step further. “I’m going to tug on Mr. Happy,” he unabashedly informed me. “I just have to jerk off to the pictures of this sexy girl. She’s fabulous.”

Billy set the magazine on the table and dropped his pants and underwear, displaying an obviously stiff penis. “Hey!” I thought to myself, “this strange occurrence has happened to Billy too! I wasn’t weird at all. I was a normal boy!” That was certainly a pleasant revelation to me.

What happened with Billy in the next two minutes was something entirely new, though. Billy stared intently at Hilly’s numerous charms, yanked constantly on his erect penis, and eventually shot a load of white goo into a handful of tissues he had smartly prepared to neatly catch his sexual climax.

“Oh, that feels so good!” he told me. “Do you ever jerk off, Clayton?”

“I’ve never jerked off in my whole life,” I informed Billy, using the same words he had. In fact, that was a terminology that I had never heard before. “This is the first time I’ve seen anyone do what you just did. But my willie is hard now just like yours is.” I paused for a moment and corrected myself. “I guess I mean like yours was.” I could not help but notice that Billy’s rod had lost its rigidity soon after he ejaculated into the tissues. The past tense was accurate.

Billy just giggled and then said, “It’s fun to jerk off, Clayton. It feels great, too. You ought to try it! If a pretty girl turns you on sexually, your dick will get hard. That’s called an erection. It means your dick is ready for fucking her. If you only have photos or your imagination of a sexy girl, you can pleasure yourself until you have a cum shot. That’s what just happened to me. Give it a try, if you want!”

“Okay!” I said with the eagerness of youth. I dropped my pants and briefs, too. I looked at the appealing centerfold of Hilly once again and my penis reacted. It got stiff in a hurry, which pleased me very much, as it confirmed what my buddy had just told me. I certainly hoped to be able to produce a large cum shot just like Billy had.

“You have a good strong dick, Clayton,” he told me. “The girls will like you for sure. Every girl likes a big hard dick rammed inside her pussy. It pleases her.” Billy seemed to be speaking from experience, so I just nodded my agreement.

I grabbed a handful of tissues in my left hand and began pulling on my shaft with my right hand.

Billy coached me through the process. “Look at the pretty, naked girl and think about what you’d like to do with her sexy body!” Then Billy encouragingly added, “I know you can do it, Clayton.”

I chose to focus on the model’s hairy bush—something I had never seen before. To me it was more interesting than Hilly’s tremendous tits. Within a few seconds, I felt a strong stirring within my balls. “I think it’s going to happen!” I exclaimed with a sense of wonder. Sure enough, I came quite strongly. Unfortunately, I didn’t react quickly enough with the tissues. Some of my jism was launched toward the coffee table, just missing the centerfold of lovely Hilly by about a foot. Be that as it may, Billy was absolutely correct! It felt wonderful to jerk off! What a great new sensation to experience whenever I wanted to do so! A new chapter in my life was unfolding thanks to Billy and Hilly!

“Does it always feel this good to jerk off?” I asked Billy when I had finished wiping up my mess.

“Yep, every single time,” he replied.

From that moment I vowed to masturbate—a term I had not yet learned—whenever the opportunity presented itself. Like Billy, I adopted the term Mr. Happy as a nickname for my penis. It just seemed appropriate.

Part Two

For the next little while, Billy invited me to his house almost on a daily basis to jerk off to his brother’s porn library. We’d take turns selecting a photo spread that one of us found appealing and then we’d merrily yank away together. My penis became a little bit raw and painful after a few days. So did Billy’s. Billy somehow learned that if you applied a lubricant or even wet soap to your dick, it eliminated the friction that caused the soreness. Eureka! We happily resumed our daily routine.

About three weeks later, Billy’s cousin Sharon, who lived somewhere far away, visited his family for the day. She caught us in the act with a copy of Penthouse and our pants down. We were horrified, but Sharon surprisingly wasn’t. She gleefully informed us that she masturbated frequently, too. “It’s perfectly normal, you guys! Don’t be ashamed!” she assured us, after which she voluntarily got naked and showed us what girls did to stimulate themselves. Wow! Suddenly Sharon was more interesting than the busty redhead featured in the centerfold of Penthouse. We both jerked off to Sharon’s antics. I had the strongest cum shot of my life that afternoon after seeing Sharon finger herself very sexily.

From that day onward, I sought out girls to masturbate to them and with them. I targeted the least academically inclined females I knew, figuring I’d have a better chance of persuading them to join me than the smart ones. I had success almost immediately as four girls in my eighth-grade class were eventually curious enough to go along with my sexual propositions. I told them, “It’s the most natural thing in the world to do”—and they bought it without too much skepticism. It was great fun, of course.

Petite Marjorie Samuels will always hold a special place in my heart for being the first girl to masturbate me to an ejaculation. Mr. Happy was certainly pleased to have experienced the sensual touch of a very compliant female for the first time, spewing out a gusher of semen as its expected response. Marjorie, the dear girl, seemed as pleased by the size of the cum shot as I was. I reciprocated by successfully stimulating Marjorie’s vagina with my right hand. I was a profoundly grateful teenage boy. I bought her a large bar of chocolate as a sincere thank-you gift. Teenage girls are natural-born blabbermouths, of course, so Marjorie couldn't wait to tell her closest school chums what we had done. I was grateful for that, too, as that’s how my other three partners approached me, rather than vice versa. I was now spending much of my allowance on thank-you chocolate for these girls.

My most frequent jerk-mate was another not-too-bright female from my class named Penelope Kitterich. She had a very plain-looking face, and hardly any figure at all. That did not matter to me or Mr. Happy. She possessed the most important quality in a sexual partner: Penelope was very willing to go along with virtually anything I said as she considered me to be her boyfriend. We’d seek out a quiet, secluded place to engage in our shared hobby once school was dismissed. Once there, we’d fondle each other’s genitalia until we both had orgasms. When I told Billy that I had graduated from jerking off to porn to doing it with eager females, he himself contacted Penelope and had the same fun with her that I was having. Unfortunately for Billy, Penelope’s father caught them engaging in their favorite pastime one afternoon in his backyard. Billy received a swift beating for it and another one at home from his father when Penelope’s dad informed him that Billy had “morally corrupted” his “precious and innocent” daughter. Fathers stuck together in those days. Luckily, the precious and innocent Penelope said nothing to her dad about the dozen times she had done the very same thing with me. A few times we had used her backyard as a locale.

Part Three

For about 45 years I enjoyed plenty of sex without the institute of marriage intervening in my life. I was more than pleased to have one-night stands, short-term sexual relationships, and hour-long romps with hookers. As long as Mr. Happy stood tall, proud, and did his stuff, I was content. I was very democratic about sex: I found females of all shapes and sizes to be potential turn-ons. One night when I was bowling with friends, I got hard from merely watching a group of fortyish women constantly bending over. When they left, a large group of tween girls arrived at the bowling center for a birthday party. I got just as hard from occasionally glancing at them. I was 54 years old at the time. My sexual equipment was still reliably functioning the same way as it had when I was 12. That was quite reassuring to me.

However, when I was in my late fifties, I had a couple of health scares, and I was constantly occupied caring for my ailing parents and eventually settling their estates as the executor of their wills. I wasn’t getting much sex, and I wasn’t even masturbating much to make up for the personal shortfall in nookie. Then one scary day when I was 59, I realized that I was having major trouble trying to achieve an erection. I tried reading steamy stories from a website that I had long enjoyed to get myself aroused. No luck. I next tried modern porn websites that left little to the imagination. No reaction there, either. I tried fantasizing about taboo things and once again failed to get it up. Nothing seemed to work.

More than slightly panicky, I began searching online for cures for impotency and erectile disfunction. It was difficult to separate the legitimate medical ones from the outright crackpots. A few websites suggested herbs that one could find at a typical health food store. I tried them. Their help was minimal. Finally, I viewed a long video about an exotic powder that allegedly cured everything that ailed men my age—including an uncooperative penis. It included testimonials from a bevy of men, both older and younger than my age, who claimed they’d had their erect dicks restored by consuming this concoction on a daily basis. One simply mixed a special, purplish powder with any liquid of one’s choice and drank it. The powder was pricey, but I was desperate. I ordered an 18-month supply of it.

I saw no real progress over the first six months; I thought I had been scammed, but then the cumulative effect of the powder must have kicked in. My sex drive slowly but surely returned. More importantly, I was able to get passable erections. Of course, they weren’t the easy and strong kind I had at age 20, but I wasn’t complaining. I was just overjoyed to have Mr. Happy back in working order again. Now I needed to test him in field conditions.

Part Four

One December night, after having taken the daily purple cure-all powder since the middle of March, I began to feel sexually motivated again. I tested myself by watching a few pornographic videos that featured immense ejaculations. The positive reaction in my crotch proved I was ready to put Mr. Happy back in play. Of course, I was eager to do it as soon as possible.

My midsize city had one legal massage parlor where hand jobs could be purchased if the customer whispered softly enough to the female who was giving him a rubdown. There were at least three other similar businesses that advertised themselves as “health spas”. Rumor had it that the most intimate of sexual services could be purchased at the Lotus Blossom, a place situated well off the beaten path in the industrial area of the city. I didn’t bother to make an appointment: I just showed up at about 7 p.m.

Judging by the name of the business, I expected it to be staffed by Asian girls. I was correct. From three options, I chose as my masseuse a pretty, slender girl who appeared to be in her late twenties. She had a perpetual smile on her face that I found hugely appealing. She said her “working name” was CeeCee and she had been born in the Philippines. She spoke very passable English. When she asked what my name was so she could record it into the logbook, I gave her a fake one—Barney—which is almost expected at these types of establishments.

I paid $40 for the “room and massage fee” for 30 minutes. I disrobed and lied face down on the large mattress that was on the floor. Almost immediately, CeeCee encouraged me to purchase more services from her.

“Mr. Barney, for just another $80, I’ll give you a full body slide,” CeeCee informed me. “I get completely nude, cover myself in oil, and slide up and down you, both front and back. Many customers like this service.”

“Sounds interesting!” I said. “Do you offer any other special services, CeeCee?”

CeeCee lowered her voice considerably and replied, “For $100 I give you the body slide and a sexy hand job. It’s a very nice service. I’ll make your dick come real good.”

CeeCee was definitely a confident girl, so I suggested one other service—the ultimate one. “I only have another $150 to spend, CeeCee. Will that buy me a full fuck? I’m a horny old man; I want to ram my dick inside you!” I was lying, not about my lust, but about the amount of money in my wallet. I had close to $500 that night.

“You are funny man, Mr. Barney,” she noted. “We have a deal. For $150 I give you a special treat: body rub, blowjob, and you can fuck me with no condom. Okay? Please pay in advance.”

I quickly agreed to CeeCee’s terms and rose from the mattress to get her the money. I was pleased to see Mr. Happy was back to his old self and looking forward to the romp. He was well on his way to being erect. Due to my advancing age, he would never again stand straight up as he had for Sharon, Penelope, Marjorie and countless other recipients over the years, but Mr. Happy just being hard was a vast improvement over what he had been at the beginning of March. I did my best to conceal how much money I was carrying, so I turned my back on CeeCee as I pulled out three $50 bills for her.

CeeCee disrobed. She was better built than I expected as the bra she had been wearing didn’t offer much in the way of lift and support. CeeCee had a shaved pussy. I suspected that was a requirement for employment at Lotus Blossom, but I didn’t have the nerve to ask her. She was actually pretty talented at giving massages. Some girls at these places have no clue. They just get right into performing their sex acts without the slightest pretense of being a masseuse.

The “full body slide” was fun. CeeCee squirted some sort of scented oil on her front and my back. As advertised, she slid her body upward from my bum to the back of my head, pressing her breasts firmly against me all the way. Of course, it was even more fun when she asked me to lie on my back for the same service. This time she included her bald pussy as she deftly ran it across Mr. Happy.

“You like my special body rub, Mr. Barney?” she asked me unnecessarily.

“Of course, CeeCee.” I stated. “Now let me play with and suck on your tits. I think they need my attention.”

Most Asian girls aren’t especially busty—and CeeCee accurately fit the stereotype. Still, she at least possessed B-cups and nipples that got hard in a hurry. I enjoyed fondling and sucking on them. CeeCee seemed to enjoy it too as she kept foisting one breast, then the other, in the direction of my mouth. She then straddled me to give me a hand job. I fingered her vagina in response.
“Don’t make me come too quickly, CeeCee. I paid to fuck your pussy, and I intend to do it,” I told her. It occurred to me that this was the first time in many years I was legitimately concerned about a premature ejaculation. Those purple powders had done their stuff!

CeeCee smiled at my comment and promptly halted the hand job. “How do you want to fuck?” she asked me. “Me on top or you on top? Maybe side-by-side? You are the paying customer, so you get to choose.”

I hadn’t even thought about that aspect of our romp, but I was enjoying the relaxing sensation of simply lying on my back atop a soft mattress. Accordingly, I decided to let her do the work. “Let’s fuck with you riding me, CeeCee. I want to lie back, relax, and enjoy being fucked by a real pro.” CeeCee was definitely that!

CeeCee took Mr. Happy in her right hand, positioned him for the task he was needed for, and slowly dropped her vagina on him. Hers wasn’t exactly the tightest pussy I had ever fucked—it was far from it, actually. However, CeeCee knew what she was doing with bounces and gyrations, and even dirty running commentary designed to make a customer come as quickly as possible. Indeed, had I been 35 years younger, I would have likely ejaculated within a minute or two. Instead, I lasted nearly five minutes before climaxing, a time that was partly attributable to my being well past my sexual peak. (There are certain advantages to growing old!)

When I could sense an orgasm was near—and what a wonderful feeling from the past that was—I propped myself up into a sitting position. Then I surprised CeeCee by embracing her and forcing her back onto the mattress. I was now fucking her in the classic missionary position. It had always been my preferred way of finishing the act of sexual intercourse. After my first two thrusts, I playfully said to my bedmate, “I want to make you pregnant.” This elicited no comment from CeeCee, which surprised me. More than 40 years ago, when I had said exactly the same thing to a buxom 16-year-old classmate named Alicia Meyers, she had a fit and demanded I pull out of her immediately. I did…and then I promptly fired great gobs of goo all over her pretty face instead. That was our first and last date.

A dozen solid thrusts into the pussy of my Filipina hooker put me beyond the point of no return. Mr. Happy did his thing, shooting several ropes of semen into CeeCee’s bald vagina. Under the circumstances, I felt like breaking into a celebratory dance. Hooray! My dormant sex life had been restored—at least to a satisfactory level.

I was still gently riding CeeCee when she said, “Good fuck, Mr. Barney. You can come in my pussy a hundred times. I can’t get pregnant. Infertile. Sorry! But it was fun having a fuck with you. You are a nice man. Come back to Lotus Blossom again soon.”

As long as Mr. Happy stayed healthy, I knew a return trip—and a second fuck with CeeCee—was more than likely.