I was busy relieving myself today (imagining a certain small hand gripping my testicles as I slowly reached a knee shuddering climax) when I realised how much I enjoy being groped. Not that it's happened enough times for my desires to truly be tested, you understand. Still, I've enjoyed it when it has happened. And, naturally when a man's thoughts turn to something sexual, there's always an experience that begs to be shared.

It was somewhere in the drug hazed 70s and I was at a Slade concert, getting down and getting with it, along with the other screaming hordes (and indeed, hordes they were) as Noddy screamed at us. We were packed in, bodies touching, arms in the air, yelling. I was vaguely aware of my friends doing likewise around me. Suddenly I felt a hand rubbing the front of my jeans. The hand was reaching from behind and having a lovely time as my young penis quickly reacted. It was glorious. The fingers running up and down the shaft, gripping then releasing. Rubbing in time to the music (actually I don't remember if it WAS in time to the music but the poetic imagery is too good to resist). When the song finished, so did the hand, retracted and lost forever.

I have no idea who gave me this delightful thrill. I have no idea if it was male or female. I know I enjoyed it A LOT! The idea of anonymous groping still gives me a thrill. Listening to Slade still brings me over all tingly. Ah, Noddy, if you only knew. I somehow think you would approve.