Anti-erotic
When a wee lad, I was lying on my back in bed in the morning with my blankets pulled tight across me, drifting in and out of sleep, with a delightful little stiffy mountain patently obvious to anybody who cared to even glance briefly in my direction. I suppose I was dreaming about Arcee from the Transformers. Anyway, my mother came in to potter about and pick up my socks & jocks for the daily wash, looked over at me, and *snorted*. In my family, there's this derisive half-chuckle/half-snort thing you do when something is vaguely amusing but not worthy of a guffaw, and that's the sound my mother made when she saw my tiny, erect weewee.

I also got an erection in Latin Catholic mass once (I am now, thankfully, an unapologetic polyatheist, and I'm sorry but that's just the way it is) because there was a hot girl in the pew in front of me, and for some reason I was imagining what she would look like with spunk in her hair (pretty much the same, except stickier and *loving it*), so I had to excuse myself from the service to shake my dice in the gent's.
(The Turgid Dahlia, Mon 6 Feb 2006, 6:03, Reply)