A fun quiz question for all you punk rockers out there: What do I have in common with the 6th album from Guttermouth?
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| The album in question |
Yesterday I was feeling depressed, today I am questioning my grip on reality! I must have killed half a dozen, scurrying over my bed, my laptop and desk, and myself, and I've seen others I haven't been able to reach. Maybe I've got them all (Ha!) or maybe there are loads more, just out of sight. Being bedbound, there's little more I can do than lie here and hope for the best. It seems like ants are a job for the handyman here, and he doesn't work on a Sunday! The problem has been reported to management, and I'm waiting to find out what can be done. Meanwhile I feel like the character in an Edgar Allen Poe story, questioning every movement in my peripheral vision and, of course, feeling my skin crawl, though this has seemed to be more psychosomatic than anything else!
I've learnt not to expect too much from the overworked staff here, but I'd have thought checking my immediate surroundings to make sure I'm not about to be swarmed by insects would be something they could put five minutes aside for!
So what else is happening? Strict Julie posted an interesting post about masturbation: both her own habits and the statistical habits of other women. It always surprises me how theatric her masturbation is, often getting into character, replicating the image or description of another woman or even talking aloud in character! A couple of weeks ago Julie was being a little bit cheeky with me and I "punished" her by posting a story that I knew would surprise/annoy her for a few reasons:
- It's a conclusion to a trilogy she's very much enjoyed, with all the sexy acts and details she likes purposefully omitted
- It has a stupid, nonsensical ending
- The fictional Julie gets greatly humiliated
- The story mentions how the real life Julie gets herself ready for an ass-fucking; a detail she had made public, but not on her blog. She had no reason to know I knew it!
Julie e-mailed me her thanks, and mentioned "As I came, I muttered "I'm sorry" over and over again thinking of you. Legit." This was a lot bigger reaction than I expected; I had written the story mainly for my own amusement. If she hadn't been wanking, but had just lain in bed with her iPad apologising out loud over and over, it would have been pretty scary! But whatever gets you off, I guess!
Julie's recent post included the following graph pertaining to the frequency of masturbation of males and females of different age groups:
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| Strict Julie Presents: Smoking Poll! |
I was surprised to find myself in the modal group for guys my age despite my condition. Obviously most guys my age are also getting laid once in a while; but it surprised me even so! Despite being horny a lot of the time I only actually climax roughly once a week, sometimes twice. I am definitely in the "few times a month to weekly box." The thing is, what's stopping the guys that can reach their dicks?!
From anecdotal evidence I think most guys start at eleven and do it most at fourteen; I started way later at nearly seventeen and did it the most in my mind twenties - at least twice a day, way more frequently than the chart allows for! And it did feel like a genuine biological imperative, I'd feel the difference in my mood for the day if I didn't start it off right! I remember being on holiday with my parents and brother in New York just after I'd turned 18, before starting at university. I was sharing one humid, noisy hotel room with my brother and my parents. Tensions were running high as we were all on top of each other. I remember one morning I skipped the hotel breakfast and jerked off instead; it was like having a mini-vacation all to myself! I can't remember what I'd have masturbated with; I've never cum holding my dick directly with my hand, skin-on-skin. Don't know why! This was before I started looking at porn as well, so that wouldn't have been an issue. But my story illustrates my point that guys need to come, or at least I felt I did. So what's stopping the one in five guys that age that haven't jerked it in the last year?
I can only assume they have a partner taking care of their needs. I remember in VIth form Philosophy there was a guy who said he never wanked off because it was easy enough to find a girl to do it for him. This struck me as bullshit; unless you were living with a girl surely there were nights you went to bed horny or woke up with an erection that needed dealing with? Maybe I was being hypocritical as I'd been ignoring these urges for years, but then again, I hadn't been getting laid either.
I found the article on FiveThirtyEight from which Julie borrowed her graph, and found a companion article based on the same study that included a graph looking at how being in a relationship affected masturbation habits. Funnily enough, guys will jerk it at the same rate whether they're tied down or not; it takes actually living with a woman to curtail that habit, and even then it only drops a little, from 14 out of 20 single guys having jacked off in the past 90 days to 11 out of 20 married guys.
The original article also got me thinking about chastity devices. If 20% of guys my age aren't masturbating does that mean it wouldn't make a difference to one guy in five my age if he had to wear a chastity device, with the stipulation that he could be freed whenever he wanted to have sex with a partner? I somehow suspect not! The survey was filled out by nearly 3,000 men and 3,000 women anonymously, but I feel that even so the topic is taboo enough that most people would either consider lying about it out of embarrassment or to lie to themselves about how often they do, which I suspect is the case here.
Back to the topic of chastity devices, a brief old post over at The Gentle Domme pointed me in the direction of an article highlighting some flaws in the CellMate, the app-controlled chastity device I blogged about on my second ever post. I admit my head was soon filled with a number of sexy possibilities the device would theoretically enable; but there is no real chance I would ever wear one. It turns out that this is a good thing, because it turns out that not only is the device easily hacked, but the article mentions comments left by users unable to remove the device after the app had stopped loading or suffered glitches after updating. The poor bastards that had shelled out over £100 to encase their love-making organs in a device that, without the app, can only be removed by cutting the steel cage with an angle grinder or bolt cutters, or by overloading the circuitry with enough voltage. Neither seem fun; I think I'd wait for the battery level to fall below 15% at which point the thing should unlock itself; though that could take a year!
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| You're not just trusting the keyholder, you're also placing your faith (and balls!) in the hands of the Chinese app developers! |
The question Julie asks at the end of her blog is whether her readers spin stories around images they look at to masturbate to or whether that's one of the things that make her special? I think it's far more common for women than men based on what I've heard and read. I'm reminded specifically of a bit from Jen Kirkman's debut album, Self Help. Turns out it's on YouTube, so I suggest you spend three minutes 15 seconds enjoying it, and then go enjoy everything else she's ever done.
I fall somewhere between the two comical extremes, an image or a clip isn't enough, I need some context, but I don't need a fully developed logical backstory either. There are a fair number of celebrity prompts on Reddit, people looking for someone to pretend to be a celebrity whilst they presumably jerk off. I don't really see the need for a second partner, at what point does your suspension of disbelief kick in? If you find Elizabeth Olsen sexy, but can't imagine having sex with her, does asking a stranger to say "Hi, I'm Elizabeth Olsen and I want to have sex with you" really solve that problem? As always, not trying to kinkshame, but am genuinely curious as to what gets people ticking!
Also, because I have nowhere else to put this, my one solid idea for a comedy character would be a men's rights activist named Ken Jerkman who would only work doing 10 minute sets and even then only at UCB shows in the mid 2010s, but could have been hilarious! Comedy is all about timing.
I used to have a bunch of photos I could rely on to get the job done, but that was a couple of laptops ago! It was mostly women in diapers, some spanking, but virtually all amateur or featuring more than one woman so I could pretend it wasn't a staged thing. It was exciting to see genuine enthusiasts like Diapered Melyssa or Bambino Girl, two real life deviants who no longer have an official web presence but who you can still find photos of on other Tumblrs or at DailyDiapers.com. Then there were photos of college girls wearing them as a joke, or for hazing, or when playing Edward 40hands. Finally there were professional models that seemed to be enjoying wearing them or teasing each other, rather than wearing them to be sexy or acting like a child.
Spanking videos are great, but I'll usually (but not always) skip to the actual spanking as most models aren't chosen for their improv skills, and excuses for spankings are usually wildly inappropriate. I guess it's because I only watch F/F spanking that it's rarely depicted as fun or within a relationship but is rather used purely as a punishment, which rarely makes sense unless you're using "porn logic" as a crutch. I remember once stopping a clip because Clare Fonda described her scene partner as "worse than the Stanford rapist or the Affluenza Kid," and frankly summoning either of those travesties of justice was enough to give me a serious hard off!
My greatest chance of reaching climax used to be reading first hand accounts. even though I suspect most of what I read was exaggerated or pure fiction. That changed when I became bedbound, and masturbating whilst reading became too tricky to manage. Now I'm most likely to physically climax when looking at the same sort of videos I first watched when I started looking at porn: POV jerk off encouragement videos, or variations on that theme. It's funny how things cycle round.
I did send Julie a cheeky little photo for Valentine's Day and found myself writing a story for it a few hours later, having slept in between. The e-mail I was using at the time was going directly to her spam, so I sent the story and the photo together. She said it sounded like a perfect Valentine's Day, and it was the beginning of our friendship. I'll make it the next thing I post here.
I'll need to buy the time because I'm going to fill you in on the origins of my depression, something I've been meaning to write about since Day One here, but have never really found a good time for. Frequent inspiration j,stern was asking about my other grandparents after yesterday's post, so I'll fill you in this week, assuming I don't wake up to find my room flooded or infested with howler monkeys, or whatever else this shithole might have in store for me!
I will tell you about my maternal grandmother; we were never that close, in distance or in affection. She would ask a lot of questions whenever we saw her, but would never tell us much about herself. My grandfather did most of the talking. I remember their place always smelt terrible, they had a cat that I must have been allergic to as I was always sneezing when we visited them! She was overweight, and frail, and quiet. I have a vague memory of her appearing on the local news because she was having some rare heart treatment or other.
When she died I sat next to Grandad at her funeral, and everyone at her wake said I'd done a really good job keeping him together. Mum sent me a bunch of photos of her that I put into a slideshow that was played. There was a minor controversy because my aunt had taken money of my mum and her other sister for catering and then got her husband's mother to do it, obviously on the cheap. It was mainly cocktail sausage rolls, crisps in bowls and homemade sandwiches. We toasted my grandmother's memory with cheap cooking sherry from a discount supermarket.
My one real memory of my grandmother, isn't really of her, but of my mother being angry at her. She had phoned my mother to tell me that I had called her up, and spent half an hour having a wonderful conversation with her, filling her in with everything that was happening in my life. My mother was surprised, because this was whilst I was still in VIth form and living at home, and her parents had never shown an interest in me or my brother, or even my dad. My grandmother went on to tell her that after half an hour she'd realised it wasn't me at all, but a stranger who had dialled the wrong number, and presumably thought he was talking to his own grandmother! My mother was fuming!
I should mention before going that the ant problem has been taken care of, it only took asking three people and waiting an hour before someone sprinkled down some powder and set a trap. I've just had the following exchange with the head carer:
"All right, Tankerton? No more ants crawling all over you?"
"Not any more, no."
"Oh, they're all in that machine, dying."
So I guess it's worth remembering there's always someone worse off than you!
Peace!
✌
Hello,
ReplyDeleteI won't make my little comment every time, but I read and wait for news from the paternal grandparents.
Comment away, all feedback is very much appreciated!
DeleteI will get there later this week but it's not an easy story to tell, it's tied in heavily with my depression.
I will post that old Julie story in a little while; after that, heavy shit!