About a week ago I found out that one of the actresses in one of my favourite porn scenes on pornhub.com has been dead for two years (the one on the left). For some reason, I got an urge to google her name (Haley Paige) and found out she OD’ed/was possibly murdered by her boyfriend and has been rotting in the ground, while I’ve been making sweet (read: violent) love to her mouth in my mind - possibly hundreds of times.
I guess if you don’t follow the industry closely you don’t hear about that kind of thing, so I can’t really be held responsible for my actions. It still made me feel pretty weird though, like the dark truth about porn that we all kind of knew (all those girls are tragic drug addicts with enormous self-esteem problems that almost certainly got fucked by their uncles and ran away from home at 12 into the arms of manipulative pornographers who are basically white slave traffickers and rapists), had been revealed to me for the first time.
Since then I’ve watched this video about fifteen times and I haven’t really watched any porn or beaten off at all. When I start again (don’t worry, I will) I’ll cross-referencing names of particularly off-the-rails or cokey looking girls before I watch their videos; just to check they’re still ok. Basically what has happened is my dick has had a bit of a scare and is now he’s a bit gun shy, so I’m going to avoid thinking about sex for about a month.
There’s been a few other instances in my life that my dick has gotten ‘the fear’ and almost retreated inside me, and it’s always taken a month for me to get back into my stride. I’m going to tell you about these occasions because telling a few thousand people about my dick on a website is not a big problem for me.
Here they are…
Breaking my banjo string
This isn’t that uncommon, I know, but like cancer and getting robbed you never think it’s going to happen to you, do you? You think you can just pound away at anything from any angle and have nothing happen to your thing because it’s you and not some guy you heard about and laughed at.
It happened to me when I was 19 and I was with my first proper girlfriend that I had real sex with (as in, not the kind of sex where you don’t look at each other and keep the covers on, the kind where you say what you like and she’s not afraid to let you go down on her). When it happened, I was really trying to prove myself as a man and going as fast as I could in the ‘piledriver’ position (I can only maintain that kind of speed for max thirty seconds these days) and I caught my frenulum on something (I’m not a gynecologist) during a thrusting stroke.
I actually heard the little guy tear, accompanied with a kind of peeling sensation, then I pulled out and blood gently pumped over the girl and some even went in her eyes because of the position she was in. I couldn’t tell at first if it was coming from me or her and I thought I’d broke her, then I thought maybe my whole bell end had fallen off inside her and I realized I was standing over a girl (whose vagina I was pretty much staring into), holding a bloody cock crying a tiny bit (I was in shock), while she pulled the kind of face that people only pull when they find out a family member got arrested for having pictures of kids on their computer.
The whole thing was so painful, embarrassing, and humiliating that I couldn’t think about sex for a month (and it actually took a week to heal).
Getting caught masturbating by my teacher and some prospective parents
Until I was 16, I went to an all boys boarding school in the middle of nowhere and slept in a room with at least four or five other boys. This meant any time alone you pretty much had to go for it and knock out as many as you possibly could before everyone came back in from the showers so that the cycle of calling each other gay and kicking the shit out of the weaker kids could continue.
One weekday afternoon I was skipping football practice (I fucking hate sport and I had a deal going with a sympathetic school nurse who told the sports staff I had asthma – I didn’t have to do anything for her in return FYI, I think she just liked me) and I was in my room and I had all my masturbation materials laid out. This included some phone line pages ripped from tabloids, an FHM, and two pages of a lingerie catalogue that I hid under my mattress. It was all laid out as a smorgasboard of softcore filth and I was on my knees, towering over it, and whacking away when the door opened.
Usually, the staff knew to knock then wait for a second so that this kind of thing didn’t happen, but everyone was meant to be playing football so my geography teacher, Mr Michaels, the two prospective parents and their children - yeah, children aged 9 and 11 - walked in to be confronted by a 15 year old me with my boxer shorts round my knees and my dick in my hand (I wasn’t strangling myself with my school tie but sometimes when I tell this story I say I was), red faced and furiously beating away. I didn’t in any way style it out, I just pulled the blanket over my boner, pushed the magazines onto the floor and sat there panting. Then Mr Michaels - who clearly didn’t know what to do either - just started asking me about what boarding life was like for the benefit of the parents and kids who didn’t know where to look either. Then they left and Mr Michaels made a nervous joke about cleaning up after.
The whole thing was so horrible that I couldn’t bring myself to touch myself for at least the rest of that week (I was 15 remember) and I sat through another year of geography lessons with Mr Michaels without once looking him in the eyes.
The first time I couldn’t get it up
When you’re a kid and you first start fucking, getting it up is the least of your worries. You can be drunk as shit and still have a dick that could cut glass within thirty seconds of brushing your arm against a naked muffin top, and the actual act of fucking comes as such a surprise that you don’t even think about it, and you can do it whatever state you’re in.
I thought those days were going to last forever, so when I was 21 or so I was drinking in a bar, doing bumps, going out to smoke weed and being as arrogant as possible to a girl who was way to hot for me all night long. I was being just the right mix of charming and rude and it was working so well that she let me come back to her rich parent’s house to do it to her.
I leapt on her when we got into her room and pressed up against her real hard like a guy should, grinding up on her, beery breath in her face and wondering hands all over. I think she was pretty into it because she was rubbing my crotch and making hot noises that are usually the clincher for me to go from zero to rock in less than half a second. But nothing was happening at all. Her hand was looking for my dick but there was nothing tangible to massage through my jeans. I started panicking, which is obviously the worst thing to do in this situation, and backed away from her hand every time she went for it. I think she thought I was being coy and giggled a little, but the situation was deathly serious to me.
I got that sinking feeling that’s similar to when you make a joke about someone’s mother and find out she died of cancer. She couldn’t see the fear in my eyes though, and pushed me off her to unbutton my jeans, she was getting kind of full on and usually it would have been totally hot, but it was the scariest thing ever. She pretty much tore my jeans off and ripped at my boxers to reveal my coke shriveled dick, and - I AM NOT FUCKING KIDDING OR MAKING THIS UP TO BE FUNNY - laughed right at it, rolled over, pulled on her loosened clothes and DID NOT LOOK AT MY FACE when she said “I think you better go, you’ve let yourself down, droopy”.
Women can be cruel and that day I learned I was not invincible.
I’ve never felt so much like I’ve been taken down a peg or two than that night, walked all the way home wondering if I was maybe secretly gay and had hidden it, even from myself, and forced myself think about sex for a month.
SIMULTANEOUSLY POSTED ON STREET CARNAGE.
