In the days of rapid-right-handed-wrist-wobbling abstinence that I have been reveling in recently, it has become clear that my addiction was not to wanking but rather to pornography. I now believe that the physical ritual of masturbation and the blatant material of pornography combine to create an experience which is easily repeatable and soon becomes firmly established in your head as a source of joy. Like the rolling and then smoking of a spliff, like the pound coin being pushed into the slot and then the pretty colours, like the preparation and then hit of the Brown Lady. All inducive to a state of addiction.
I actually attempted to have a wank last night. One of my customers had heard that I was thinking of returning to a 'proper' job in the city and so, for some reason and showing an alarming intuition into only recently cremated habits, gave me two DVD of porn filth as a leaving present. Purely for reasons of research, I popped one on last night and settled back, thi...
Infrequent bloggage by a beach bum. (c) 2003-2017