How Little Boys Learn To Masturbate
Who is teaching all the little boys to masturbate? Because for me, it was not intuitive. Someone needed to “alert” me to the process. I am sure I’m not alone, so this means that there are hordes of people running around out there teaching little boys how to masturbate. I’m not sure how comfortable I am with this knowledge. I think CNN (or someone) should have an interactive map that shows all the masturbation teachers in my area- little red blinking dots or something- so that we can all keep tabs on their movement. Imagine the horrible revelation of such a map! The masturbation teachers swarm our communities undetected by the naked eye, like bed mites on a sleeping body.
I didn’t masturbate until 8th grade. For the first ten years or so of my life it never occurred to me. I asked a friend today how he came up with the idea, and he wrote back: bathtub. Another friend blamed a hot tub. So showering had something to do with it, apparently. Then from about 11 to 13 I didn’t masturbate because Phil Rannieri convinced me that you get a year in purgatory each time you did it. He said he did it anyway, and one day he felt so guilty about it I watched as he stepped on his right-hand fingers and then tried to break them by lifting up his hand real fast. Can you believe this! You should have seen it. Nuts.
But then I moved away from Phil and his masturbation lovefear, and out of his semi-psychotic influence I found new clarity. It was in 8th grade and I was talking to a friend we’ll call ‘Smeff’ on the phone. Apropos of nothing he asked, ‘You know that hand motion people make when they think something is lame?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Try it on your dick.’ It was that simple. I guess before that I’d never considered the logistics. I hung up, locked the door, and got down to business.
You know what? That rascal Smeff was right. It felt good… real good. Until the end when a horrible thing happened that I couldn’t stop. It was like when you’re balancing a couple plates of food as you walk to the living room, then something happens and you have that moment when you know they’re going to fall but there’s nothing you can do about it. That’s how it felt. ‘Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Stop the bus!’ Except the bus has already passed your stop and is now in the middle of the intersection. Pointless.
But the army of Smeffs out there… how many are there? In 2005 there were about 6.5 million 10 to 12-year-olds in America. Let’s assume for the sake of argument that all boys learn to masturbate within this age range. If only, say, 15% are ‘teachers ,’ that means that at any given moment there are nearly a million red dots scampering about, for some godless reason encouraging their friends to whack off. Why would they do this? What do they gain, honestly? If you found out your son was a teacher, do you spank him? Praise him? Force him to keep frozen peas in his underpants while around his friends? I have no idea the proper response to this.
And what do these conversations sounds like? I asked my South African friend Giles. He said, and I quote, ‘My friend said you must rub your cock real hard until you get tbe feeling, and you can best believe I shot into my bedroom like a bullet (to try it).’
See, I wish I never asked Giles. I don’t like that little boys talk like this. What happened to trading baseball cards? Sheesh! I asked my childhoodfriend Mike who told him about masturbating and he said- get this- Smeff.
‘He brought a porn to my house. “Fashion Passion.” I’ll never forget it.’
Come to think of it, Smeff made me steal a porn from my dad. It was called “The Raw Raw Girls.” It was about cheerleaders who were apparently fairly misguided about appropriate means of encouraging the quarterback. But that’s not the point. The point is, Smeff taught me how to masturbate, and then he convinced me to time it while watching “The Raw Raw Girls.” Isn’t that crazy and weird? What else is a mind that deviant capable of? Isn’t the oddness of that enough that I’ve convinced you that CNN should have a webpage devoted to those little deviants? I’d put that widget on my iPhone in real time. I hope that in the future we are all sort of like Terminator creatures, where we can see a room and it turns into a 3-dimenional grid and all the aliens turn a different color. If/when society reaches that point, you can rest assure I will be sending a scientist an email making a much more useful suggestion that aliens.
Because, no matter what you think of aliens, surely they will not come to teach our little boys to masturbate. At least.
I'm serious about this! I still haven’t convinced you? Two last rhetorical points:
1. Enjoy purgatory.
2. So Smeff timed himself too. You want to know who won? Him. I didn’t and still don’t know what ‘winning’ meant. He just declared himself the winner and that was that. The madness of it all!!! So just on that point alone, I rest my case. And if you’ll excuse me, per the advice of another friend, I will now go jack off into a sock.