Masturbation Diaries, Part 1

A serious issue that has recently stormed the news is Europe’s immigration problem. Many people fleeing for their lives. But why discuss this when we can talk about something very dear to us all. Masturbation.

A taboo topic to say the least. However without, it we would do nothing but walk around like mindless zombies searching for the next victim. One we tie up and sab multiple times in the genitals for one reason and one reason only, they jizzed, I didn’t.

For one week I will subject myself to this torture, for your amusement. You’re welcome.

Day 1

5AM, the cat awakes and pleads for food. And yes I mean my pet animal… cat… perverts. Everything appears bleak, in the distance trees begin to look like objects I’d rather not see. I can hear faint chants in my head, I dismiss them too quickly. It takes me a while to discover that I am sitting in my car, listening to the sounds of tentacle hentai.

College takes a dark turn. I have become paranoid. I see dildos everywhere, I run to one, I want to take it, I need to take it, WHY ARE THERE DILDOS EVERYWHERE. ALL MINE. HAHAHAHA

The people I see merge to become shiny rubber objects. I want to touch them to see how rubbery they really are… they’re gummy bears, not dildos. But why my psychology teacher is followed around by a gimp, I do not know.

The day is a blur, the blur has a white, saucy (rawr) tint to it. 7PM, more than 12 hours have passed since my tired crusty eyes opened. All I can do is lie on my bed and watch the ceiling until the darkness consumes it. 9PM I realised I forgot to turn off the light and half blinded myself in the process of waiting for darkness to come, the metaphor failed me. 11PM, let me go to sleep brain. 1AM, I AM NOT TOUCHING MYSELF.

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