The Hazards of Masturbating
By John Thursday • Jul 29th, 2009 • Category: Erotic Philosophy by John Thursday, FeaturesHave you ever hurt yourself while masturbating? I have.
There you are right in the heat of it, hand thrashing, dog licking… No, wait, that’s for a different website.
So there you are right in the heat of it, hand thrashing, toes curling, and you can tell this is going to be a good one; especially if you give it that extra little push. So you dig your heels into the back of the BART seat… Wait, that one’s for The Lonely Planet Guide to San Francisco.
So there you are right in the heat of it, hand thrashing, toes curling, giving it that extra little push to be memorable. You dig your heels into the mattress, stretch your shoulders back, pay no mind to the odd way your head is curving against your headboard. You’re almost there; you just need the right image cause orgasming to the wrong image sucks.
No, not that girl! No, not her grandma! Now you wish you had prepared better. It’s always best to go into masturbating with a plan. You’re starting to lose it, that roaring momentum, and that’s no good, you’re going to be off kilter for the rest of the teacher-parent conferences that day.
Ah, there it is, the image of the girl who let you into The Gap dressing room three years ago, random but perfect. You push on, pressing your head sickeningly askew from your body. A passerby could be forgiven for thinking you had broken your neck. But you don’t care. You have returned from the brink. You tense all the muscles in your back in preparation.
And that’s when you here it, the pop. Something, somewhere, usually in the upper middle part of your back, has come undone. A very important muscle has unraveled. But you keep on, breathing through the pain.
We developed this ability so as to keep running across the Savannah away from the saber-toothed tiger even when injured. In a modern twist on this evolutionary advantage you are able to keep masturbating although your back has just come in two.
Hand thrashing, breath held, the roaring in your head crests and breaks open in a wide, beautiful arc. The tension releases and all is good. That is until you try to move.
No one knows why masturbatory injuries are always so centrally located. But the moment you try and right your head you feel it, the searing pain shooting through your back. Oh god, you think, I am going to be trapped here with my pants down forever. Somehow you manage to get up, your head to one side, your arms held as still as possible.
Whatever muscle it is, it’s the one involved in every single movement you make, holding up your head, moving your arms, walking, turning, sitting, pooping. Oh lord, you’re not going to be able to push anything out for weeks.
You better get one of those Toto spray toilets cause you can just forget about reaching around. And now your girlfriend won’t have any interest in having sex with you… Wait, that was for a Japanese scat site.
At work the next day everyone asks what happened. You scroll through the possible responses in your head.
“I was building a rock wall.”
“I saved a nun from drowning.”
“I was yanking my wang so hard it pulled my back out.”
You can’t say that. It’s too ridiculous. You’ve already told your partner and now every time you wince she laughs at you. It’s the sympathy-less injury. There’s something about seeking pleasure to the point of hurting yourself that reeks of indulgence. That popped muscle is a Puritan punishment.
Pulling a muscle is certainly not the only masturbatory hazard. Misty pointed out that you can get jizz in a paper cut. Then you really are rubbing salt in your wound. Misty also said you can fall off the bed which sometimes entails hitting your head. I’m not sure how you would explain that black eye? But Misty certainly seems a vigorous maturbater. Go Misty go.
Once you have healed you tend to masturbate gingerly for a while. That’s never that fun. You have to feel free to really get into it for the full effect. As a preemptive I’ve taken to stretching before masturbating. Below is my list of best practices, in no particular order.
Yanking your wang? Bikram Yoga.
Smothering your schmekel? Try Kundalini Yoga.
Choking the chicken? Ashtanga Yoga!
Head-in-the-pillow-ass-in-the-air-squirting? Come over to my place Yoga
John Thursday >> John Thursday was born and raised at Harbin Hot Springs, unaware there was such a thing as clothing until he was 15. He has since renounced all things Hippie. He earned a doctorate in Erotic Philosophy by defending Kant's lesser known The Critique of Pure Fellatio as a seminal work. he was hit on by Allen Ginsburg twice but not even once by Sami Beinstein, a non-hippie jewess. He currently beds a shiksa named Misty.
All posts by John Thursday
Wow. That was honest.
You’ve really pulled your back out jerking off? What a drag. I guess I just have a strong back.
I got tennis elbow from working my rabbit vibrator in and out. You are the first one I’ve told.