I masturbate every day, or almost every day, for several hours at a time. Yet I have a very busy professional and family life. But I feel a vital need for it.As soon as I touch my penis, the same feeling comes over me from head to toe: “At last, I'm home”. By this I mean that masturbation is my state of nature. My existence, though successful by social standards, is, on reflection, one long masturbation session interrupted from time to time by the necessities of social life. What fundamentally defines me as a human being is masturbation.
I'm writing these lines at work. It's now 6 p.m. This morning, like every day, I arrived earlier than all my colleagues, to masturbate for an hour or two. Then during the lunch break, when I came. Then for most of the afternoon.
A heavy steel ring stretches my scrotum. My penis, wet with its own secretions, emerges obscenely from my fly. Behind the half-closed door of my office, I can hear my colleagues, whom I supervise, finishing their day's work. I'll be alone for another two or three hours, wandering around my masturbatory mental universe until I lose myself completely.
When I get home, my wife will ask me: “How was your day?” I'd like to be able to tell her the absolute truth: “All I did was masturbate. Just like every day.”