This actually happened several months ago.

I love spicy food. A lot. Food just isn’t good if I can’t taste it on its way in and out. I was preparing a pretty standard meal for myself, tofu with assorted veggies and a few different hot peppers & sauce. After I had finished cutting the peppers and the meal was on the stove I felt an oh so familiar tingle down there, the urge to cut my pepper. I had washed my hands, but obviously not well enough because while I was freeing willy I was treated to a pleasant subtle warmth. I knew I loved spicy stuff, but had never loved it in “that way” before. All was well.

The next time I was cooking something spicy, I was reminded of the oh so nice warmth when I last whipped my dripper. I had to do it again. Now, I consider myself to be an extreme person. I figured I enjoyed the embers, so I would love the inferno. Once I finished cooking I grabbed my bottle of Sudden Death Sauce [1] from the cabinet. This shit is no joke. If I recall, a restaurant was once sued for serving it to someone. Notice I capitalized the sauce’s name out of sheer respect and reverence for the power it holds, as I would discover in the events to follow. I poured two drops onto my hand and spread it out, then rinsed my hand off slightly and towel patted it dry. I figured that would mellow out the heat enough for it to be tolerable. How naive I was.

I began thumping the thistle with my hot-hand and some lotion and at first everything was going well. The warmth was back, and felt so good. I kept stroking and it got stronger. And stronger. And stronger still. I had probably been rubbing this crap on my dick for a minute and a half before I realized I had made a terrible mistake and ripped my hand out of my trousers like a nun had walked in on me. Even though I had stopped it kept getting hotter. I sprinted to the bathroom and into the shower. It barely helped. I desperately searched the room for something to extinguish the raging fires of hell from my pulsing pecker, which was by this point so red and shriveled in terror it looked like a flaming hot cheeto. On the counter was the mug that I use to rinse my mouth. Fuck it, I filled it with the coldest of water and shoved my entire package, scrotum and all inside and pressed it tightly against my pelvis. The pain was gone, but if I so much as considered moving or removing the mug it would come come back with a vengeance. Accepting my fate, I sat on the toilet holding a mug against my crotch while sobbing quietly and wishing I was a eunuch for 45 minutes or so.