I often turn my boyfriend into a lovely pin-up, but not the kind that were on the WWII barracks walls.

Artie keeps his cock and balls clean-shaven, just so he can provide me with good access to his scrotum for his favorite of my artistic endeavors. I prefer to use small wooden spring-type clothespins to decorate his lovely three-piece set. If I work really well, I can get thirty or so on his parts, until there is no available skin left on his sac for me to decorate.

Once I have his ball-bag looking like your common neighborhood porcupine, I can start on his seven-inch prick. Oh, yes-by the time I have his balls all covered with the clothespins, he has the sweetest raging red hard-on. Although his phallus has swollen almost to the bursting point, I can still coax enough loose skin to put a row of pins around his purple cockhead. The crown of clothespins around the glans gives the appearance of the Statue of Liberty to my darling's man-hood.

A well-lubricated anus makes for a good place to tuck a greased butt plug during the removal ceremony. One at a time and very carefully and gently, I remove each little point of pain. The secret of this journey into the empire of sensation is that no single stroke of the whip or crack of the crop could ever duplicate the slow building of sensation that is produced by my art form.

When all of the clamps and pins have been removed, it is time for Artie to stroke himself to orgasm. Every drop must be saved so that while we watch an x-rated tape, he can sip his own come before we start on our next scene. We are so much in love.