When I masturbate, I imagine that my penis is a dragon.

If my penis were a dragon, he would be deep reddish-gold and bigger than a horse. He’d have two strong legs and two bat wings with a span even longer than he is. He’d have scaly pointed fox ears, whiskers, long sharp teeth, and eyes that you’d better not look into.

Most of the time, the dragon sleeps, curled up in a ball like a cat. Or he wakes, stretches, yawns, and goes back to sleep.

But at night he wakes up, and I can feel him in my chest and my crotch. He’s a monster, and he wants what he wants. And once he starts grumbling, the only way I can tame him is to make him give up his magical silver pearls—my semen.

When I pull away the blankets and pull down my boxers, past my butt, it feels like the dragon has come out of his cave, growling. I grip my now-hard penis and imagine I’m gripping his neck so he doesn’t escape. I spread my legs, and feel the hard root of my penis go all the way back to my asshole, and I imagine that this strong, hard thing in between my legs is the dragon's long, muscular back. Like I’m riding the dragon.

I pull my penis’s loose skin over my glans and imagine that the sweet burst of electricity I feel with that stroke is a spell I cast through the loose skin at the dragon’s throat to pull out the magical pearls. I let my hand go back down my penis, and imagine that the dragon has run out of the reach of the spell.

I cast the spell again and again, and the dragon runs away again and again. I keep casting the spell—I keep moving my hand up and down—and I don’t let the dragon run away from me.

My heart pounds in my chest like the pounding of the dragon’s wings as I stroke. I feel a soaring sensation in my chest as if he has spread his wings and launched himself into the sky. I feel dizzy as if I were soaring higher and higher, above treetops, above hills. The dragon is bigger than a house, and he soars above the countryside.

 I keep a grip of his neck as he flies higher, and I keep casting the spell, again and again, faster and faster. My spell won’t pull out the pearls until all of them are in his stomach, and I'll keep riding the dragon and casting the spell until then.

His wings beat around me faster as I clutch the loose skin around his throat. I am a giant, and the dragon between my legs is a hundred yards long. I pant and I whisper a spell to find the magical pearls deep in the dragon's strong legs and long tail.

I sense pearls deep within his tail, and more pearls deep within his thick legs. They’re so far away that I can hardly feel them. I clutch his neck tighter, as he flies higher and higher, and keep casting the spell, again and again. His wide wings beat, and mountains and rivers stretch out far below us as we soar higher. I pant as I cast the spell. I am dizzy with the height and the speed, and I want the dragon's pearls so badly I almost feel sick.

My legs are thrashing and my hand is moving fast. The dragon is roaring and thrashing and flying fast. I just hold onto his neck and keep casting my spell. One of the pearls is almost at the dragon’s chest.

The dragon roars and flies higher, and my hand moves faster. It’s all I can do to stay on. But I clutch the dragon’s neck and pant my spell as I pull the pearls closer. Mountains spin far below us like swirling sand, and the thin air rushes in my ears. The glittering pearls from his legs have unlodged, and are in his stomach; there’s just one more pearl deep in the dragon’s long, strong tail. I move my hand faster and cast my spell again.

The last shimmering pearl unlodges from deep in the dragon’s muscular tail, deep in my crotch, and slowly rises up to the dragon’s stomach.

Suddenly the dragon’s stomach is full of hot, swirling silver pearls, and the dragon has flown high, out of the atmosphere. The semen suddenly filling up the root of my hard penis is as incredible as if suddenly we were surrounded by the black and silence of space and glittering stars. Gravity stops. I can't breathe as I cast the spell again.

The dragon convulses under me—my hard penis throbs and pulses—molten pearls burst from his mouth—my semen bursts out—and he drops to earth like a meteor. I ride the bucking dragon as he plummets down. Hot semen spurts out and splashes on my belly with each convulsion of the roaring dragon, and we drop miles and miles. Semen trickles down my hand.

The dragon spreads his wings again and glides to a stop by a grassy hill under the moon, still dribbling silvery flames from his mouth, then curls up, purring.

I lie on my bed panting. My penis softens, and my balls drop and relax. My semen makes greyish puddles on my belly, and my left hand is covered with silvery dribbles of semen. I admire the drops and puddles for a moment. I did this, I think. I tamed the dragon. Look at all these molten pearls. All of this is my semen. I really ejaculated.

Then I come to my senses. The molten pearls become nothing more than gluey drops of semen. I grab a tissue and mop my gluey semen off my chest, then grab another tissue to wipe off my hand. I milk the last gooey drops of semen from my now-soft penis into that too, then toss both tissues into the trash. Just a minute ago, I thought that my semen was magical and silvery, but now it's just slimy, grey goo, as useless as snot.

I'm cold now, so I pull my boxers up, then pull the blanket up, and roll over onto my side and curl up. I let my right hand drift into my boxers. My penis is small and soft, and if it were a dragon, it would be as small as a salamander. It oozes a bit more semen into my boxers. I rub this semen between my fingers, then gently hold my soft penis and let the dragon’s purring lull me to sleep.

As I drift off, I wonder why I like to pretend my penis is a dragon when I masturbate. It’s not like there’s really anything magical about it—right?