When you’re baptized, that original sin they’re always on about- it’s got nothing to do with Adam or Eve or that ridiculous apple. They just made all that up. What all that holy water’s really for is to cleanse you of the crimes you committed before you were born. Jerk-off crimes. But no one will ever tell you that. Your parents, God- they keep trying to fool you into thinking you’re something better- someone pure. But the truth is, this life is just one big race to get off. A giant festival of vibrators and porno mags. So you might as well start now. I don’t believe that Jesus Christ never jerked-off.
How many times a week do you masturbate? Be honest. Really. Three? Six? Thirty-eight? How much of your precious and limited time on this Earth do you spend yanking away at your spit-covered genitals, your mind drifting off to a world where you’re thinner and have better hair- fucking some celebrity on a yacht? In a barn? Floating through space? The specifics aren’t important. What’s important is that deep within your fantasies you can do anything and be anyone. No stress, no fear, no reality. It’s a perfect world.
Don’t knock masturbation. It’s sex with someone you love. Woody Allen said that. I wholly agree. Like love, the desire for sex is just another phase you’ll grow out of. Love affairs get too involved and they’re really not worth it. Sex gets boring. It gets predictable. But masturbation will never get old. When you think about it, masturbation is just about the only sex you’re ever going to have that’s just about you. No sexual partner is ever going to give you their full attention, no matter how much they claim to love you. Everyone is always thinking about themselves, even when they say they’re not.
Sex is always better in your head. With masturbation there’s no disappointment- no limp dicks or bad kissers. Everyone is a God. Real life just can’t compare. Human contact is overrated anyway. You say you always want what you can’t have. Well this is the one time you can have whatever you want. So let’s not be ashamed. Let’s embrace our love of self-love. Excessive, indulgent self-violation is the way forward. Let’s masturbate ourselves to death and go out the way we came in. Let’s be those people you read about who die with their pants around their ankles, hung by a belt from their closet door. Death by asphyxiation. It’s better than being hit by a bus.
WORDS: KARLEY SCIORTINO of SLUTEVER.BLOGSPOT.COM