"In the folly of my youth," my dead grandad says to my dead brain. "I did'st not pull it out and smell it. I did'st not spit upon mine cock to lubricate it, even just a little bit. To my disdain, to my horror, 'twas my cock snapped off in all my fury to pull it out and smell it. To taste it. But... that was a different life. That was a different now. And this time? I haven't the spit. So you must do your part, boy. Spit on it. Lubricate it. Just a little bit."