Owning Testicles

There is something about life that I'm wholly unqualified to comment on, but, because I see a lot of these particular ones and the owner's behaviour toward them, I'm going to comment anyway. (Let's be honest... when is being wholly unqualified to comment on something ever stopped me?)

I'm sitting in my usual corner of the couch, happily reading other blogs, checking the weather, doing my own blogging. My wonderful husband is laying next to me, feet to me, head in the corner of the couch (it's one of those sectional things, and his head is in the strange part that bridges the gap from this wall to the other). He is laying here in his underwear, a pair of boxers (one from Big Dogs that I had gotten him years ago). And how many times has he scratched, moved or adjusted them in the three or so hours we have been engaged in our separate but together hobbies?

Answer: Countless!

I only can lay claim to having breasts, and frankly, most of the time, they go completely unnoticed by me. They aren't toys, they don't need constant adjustment and certainly they don't itch. Put them in a bra for any forays outside of the house and there's an end to it. In the house I'm less apt to wear a bra, but even so, they are not a source of conscious or unwitting entertainment.

For Luis, clearly his testicles are some sort of annoyance, sort of like having a fly in the office. He's constantly playing, adjusting, scratching or doing something with them - things I wouldn't even consider in sexual play (I tend to see them as being much more delicate than they actually are). Sometimes he is conscious of it, most of the time he is wholly unaware of it.

Are testicles really that annoying or is it just my perception?

He wears boxers out of preference. Admittedly, when he first started wearing them I was of mixed feelings. The standard tidy-whitey breifs are... well... disgusting, really. I hated them. On the other hand, my Pop-pop wore boxers, and the first few pairs Luis bought were your standard cheap Sears brand white skivvies with funny little patterns on them made of lightweight material that shredded within the first few washings. Well, that odd cheapness that can possess Luis is always most obvious in his underwear choices. Always.

Now I'm a lot more accustomed to them. As long as they're not white, I almost don't care, but I prefer to get him Big Dogs boxers. They are almost impossible to destroy and extremely well made. I love them. He does, too. One word of caution: they are soft cotton and do shrink the first time that you wash them. Buy them one size larger.

Back to the original topic.

When Luis lays on the couch, he tends to have both legs bent, to accomodate me (and not take away my accustomed perch), and one leg up, with the testicles (and often the head of his penis) hanging out one boxer leg. (Keep in mind it's different when you're married and have been for nearly twenty years and have no compunctions or sheepishness about nudity, for all you readers who sitting there thinking, "Gross... who does this?") Now, I find this cute and consider it an open invitation to caress the showing skin, whether it is leg, foot, testicles, or his penis (with the tacit understanding that this may well lead directly to other activities). He loves being touched softly and I love touching him softly. It all works out perfectly.

I just find the whole testicle thing befuddling. Nothing I have needs so much attention or is something that I unconsciously find myself playing with or whatever. He would likely object to my qualifying it as "playing". What the heck else is it?

I invite comments from anyone who directly owns a pair. I'd really like to know!