The Masturbation Column. - ROUGH DRAFT

 

The Masturbation Column. ROUGH DRAFT
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By: Gooch

Before cell phones, Game Boy or Sony's PSP, the only hand held device that provided boys with endless entertainment was our own dicks. It starts around age 11, when "palm pre" wasn't a smart phone but rather the stuff that accidentally got on your hand before you finished. Jerking off isn’t an activity we are taught, but is rather a matter of instinct. At first, it's a sordid discovery - a dirty little secret we want to keep from everyone. Being young and catholic, I would be apologetic to God himself as I spilled my baby batter on my Star Wars sheets. As we get older, the apologies to God tend to subside (would she rather I banged a hooker?) and we quit trying to convince others that we aren’t all giving ourselves a hand during every free waking moment.

Everyone jerks off. I jerk off. You jerk off. People of the cloth jerk off. If I was a priest, I would jerk off in the confessional while I confessed to the very sin I was committing at the moment. People in prison jerk off into magazines to fashion weapons (that part is not true, I’m full of shit). Celebrities who get unlimited amounts of sex still jerk off. They're more advanced in their masturbation endeavors. Basically, choking yourself out with a belt as you orgasm is supposed to bring the ultimate O. That said, the only thing I think that would be more post-mortem embarrassing than loved ones finding of your own computer would be finding you naked hanging from a belt around the clothes-hanger rod in your closet hovering over a dried load. Not for me. If I'm ever really bored, I'll pay my house keeper to strangle me while I rub one out. How funny would it be if someone (like an angry husband or stripper) tried to kill me through strangulation and I started whacking it right before I died? My would be murderer would stop trying to kill me in confusion and I'd be like "hey... I was almost there, get back here."

Belts and god knows what other contraptions aside, the inspiration to which we jerk off becomes more elaborate over time. When MTV had been out for a little while, music videos were not quite as risque. I could always use a solid cleavage shot to rub one out to. I was young, innocent, and pure then. MTV was, as far as I knew the filthiest smut imaginable. Madonna's "Cherish" video had a young, blonde, Ciccone rolling around in the ocean and for one fleeting moment, a phenomenal cleavage shot. At age 13, That was all I needed. Twenty-two years later (fuck, I'm old) it takes more than that.

Not necessarily… I once turned the bedroom TV to MTV in the morning to try to catch the “Fergilicious” video by Fergie. I don’t know what kind of Avatar CGI special effects they used to make that faces of meth chick-possibly-with-a-dick so hot, but they did it in that video. I had decided I’d try a self imposed dare: As soon as the video started, I would start jerking off and try to finish before the video. It was like a fucked up Jackass stunt. And I did it. True story. Look it up on Wikipedia. Wait a couple of hours, then look it up on Wikipedia.

There's a natural progression of visual stimuli that the typical man will pull it to over the course of his life. Mine went as follows, and I'm sure most men of my vintage can relate: The underwear section of the Sears catalog, Hawaiian Tropic ads, MTV videos, any scene in The Brady Bunch featuring Alice, Demi Moore movies when she was hot and always naked in films, a found stash of seventies Playboys and Penthouses, Cinemax, porn movies shared among high schoolers, Playboy channel at friends' houses with absentee parents, downloading porn pictures on dial up, waiting three days for porn movies to download on dial up, high speed torrent downloads of porn: Vivid, Private Entertainment, then finally: Rocco Siffredi’s Puppetmaster videos.

Men do it for biological purposes only. If you catch a guy jerking off, there's as much emotional stirrings going on there as if he was taking a leak. Or having sex with a hooker, which I often refer to as "masturbating with a vagina." If your man is jerking off a lot and not having sex with you, look within for the answer as to why. Are you a pain in the ass, do you nag a lot about nothing important? Think about it.

"Gooch," you ask, "then who invented female masturbation?"

Who the fuck told you that women are capable of having orgasms? That’s totally a fucking myth. Take a health class or something. Jesus. Those vibrators are for, like, back pain or something. Read a book, asshole.

Jerking off is sometimes best when It’s performed by a loved one. Or a liked one. Hell, anyone. I love a good hand job the way I love going out for steak: I can do it myself, but it's just nicer when it's done for you. It can also serve as a means to gauge physical fitness: I was inspired to drop 20 pounds once when, while on my back receiving an HJ, the top of the girl's wrist kept slamming into the bottom of my gut. Humiliating.

I often lay in a tanning bed and wonder which came first: the hand job or jerking off. Seriously, male masturbation could have been invented by a cave woman who didn't want to have sex at the moment and calmed some horny cave-asshole by grabbing his dick instinctively in vaginal defense - unwittingly inventing the hand job, or as it's often known: the snooze button for sex. Jerking off, or the motion involved could very well be the precursor to the invention of fire.


Before I end this literary abomination, I ask this: Why is it that I can sit/lie down, and start jerking it and not think about having a cleanup implement (i.e., a towel) nearby? I mean, I have the forethought to start up a porno but right at the point of completion I'm desperately looking around like an idiot trying to find anything to finish into... an empty beer can, paper plate, an errant sock. My right hand is bouncing up and down like I'm about to shoot craps in Vegas and my left hand is thumbing through bank statements/old greeting cards, trying to find the oldest one to, um, soil. I'm sure that many a bedsheet, T-shirt, and computer keyboard have been ruined by this phenomenon. It's the ultimate in unpreparedness.

Masturbation: It is the only way to get off without the risk of impregnating anyone or getting an STD. It's an orgasm that doesn't involve lying to a girl, buying dinner, or prophylactics. It's obviously something that I have thought a lot about over the years. It's helped me get to sleep. It's helped me wake up. It's the biphasal drug that equates to cigarettes for some people. It's consoled me in moments of expensive yet sexless date nights where blue balls were imminent. Hell, I'd be beating my cock like a red headed dyslexic step child at this very fucking moment, except it takes both hands to stroke the penis that is my awesome oversized Microsoft Bluetooth Elite Keyboard (fuck ergonomics) to ejaculate this text-spooge. That's right, I'm 35 years old with the brain and sex drive of a 12-year-old with no responsibilities and an endless supply of Jergens lotion and internet porn. 

And I'm so, so unapologetic for it.

Gooch:Out


 [My brain fucking froze as I ran into my limit for writing content. I've always stuck with the short-form because I could write it and edit it. I can't wrap my head around this article any longer. I started inserting the same jokes twice into this thing. Can you imagine if I accidentally put "masturbating with a vagina" twice in the same piece of writing? Almost happened... fuck! Anyways, way too much time spent on this. Peace.]