masturbation as practice
February 8, 2008
i realize that i often write of masturbation and my fondness for it. it certainly has been there, like a trusted friend, through some extremely difficult times and over some even longer dry spells. i make no claims to have the virility of an 18 year old but, with that being said, if i am attracted to you and we have the good fortune of engaging in relations i will absolutely rock your world. yes, i am nothing…if not a giver.
and believe me. i have extremely high expectations for myself. every time i step foot into ‘the ring of love’ i want to give the particular girl the most pleasure i can, the most she’s ever had. the last thing i want is to meet some babe i really like, get naked, and then promptly go up in flames by having lost my touch, or my control, as it were. the last thing i want is to go out like a chump.
therefore, i need to be ready for game day. how do i prepare for game day? by repeatedly bringing myself to the edge of climax during regular fondling sessions. when i’m feeling particularly masochistic i’ll take myself to the brink over and over again, only to then not even allow myself a payoff. consider that a small example of mental discipline which can then start snowballing and affecting all areas of one’s life. it all starts with one step.
it’s simply mind over matter. this is the only thing that separates us from the mice. well that, oral sex, taxes, and general food-safety guidelines.
i allowed some homeless babe to blow me
February 7, 2008
now, i absolutely love san francisco, even with all of the homeless people swarming around me like gnats. if only they were even more like gnats. gnats generally don’t smell like shit…
my unfortunate catholic upbringing has taught me to atleast try to be nice to everyone. this includes the homeless. i reserve judgement on others as a general rule as well. you just really never have any idea through what someone has been. ‘until you’ve walked in someone else’s shoes,’ as they say…
this certainly does not mean in any way, shape or form that i give change to panhandlers. in fact, i am much more likely to perform a rim-job on a homeless person than give them my spare change. that being said, on the ever so rare occasion that i do actually hand over change, it’s usually because that person is especially pathetic, like some dude with no legs and a hand growing out of his forehead, or something. hey, when i am alone i sometimes cry. i have feelings.
so anyway, i was walking towards home the other afternoon when this old babe with a walker stopped me and asked me for change so that she could procure a cup of coffee. a cup of coffee??? are you fucking kidding me??? i had to hand it to her though, she pretty much had the whole pathetic thing nailed down pat. she looked as though she had just been plucked from one of the many trailer parks in hell and dropped off in the middle of the tenderloin by a passing spaceship.
now, my normal reaction would be a simple “sorry,” or i’d flash a smile and just keep walking. it’s only when someone flags me down to ‘ask me a question,’ that i am ever rude. simply because the question is invariably “can you spare a dollar?” i mean, just stand there with a friggin’ cup like everybody else. don’t waste my time having me think that you’re asking me for directions or some shit.
so as a reflex action i muttered an “i’m sorry,” to the old trailer park babe. i walked maybe three more steps and then was hit with the realization of how much it must really suck to be her. yes, a few moments of clarity. i ended up not only giving her all my change but i also invited her back to my place for a few drinks. after an impromptu massage, i allowed her to blow me.
never, ever accuse me of not doing my part to help the homeless…
