Dirk wanted two things from life: nipples and love, preferably together.
He didn’t find his own nips—flat little discs—particularly interesting. No, he thought them too small to be designated discs…diskettes, maybe. Flat pale little diskettes that he was content to ignore. But the notion of tormenting another man’s full fleshy nips…now that was exciting.
But, Dirk wasn’t interested merely in the physical side of nip abuse. For Dirk, sharing in the exquisite tightrope walk between nip agony and ecstasy could be a source of soulful sharing, an evocation of fulfillment for both nipper and nippee. A physical experience of bonding, a communion on which to build emotional connection.
His obsession with men’s nipples began back in high school in his hometown of Blixton, California, where he lived to this day, three hours from the nearest real city. In the high school gym shower room, Dirk stole glances of as many nips as he could. Had he been caught copping looks at dicks and asses, he might have been beaten up or expelled. But since he was simply glancing at other guys’ chests, an innocent enough pastime among boys comparing pre-manly muscles and hair sprouts, anyone who might have noticed didn’t bother him. After each visual nip orgy, in the privacy of his bedroom in Grandma’s house, he conjured up images of all the fat and fleshy boys he’d washed up with that day, imagined himself flicking and tweaking, pinching and tugging, fingernail pincering now one set of nips, now another, now two sets at once…or, when feeling especially energetic, three at once (left hand, right hand, teeth).