I finally managed to stop masturbating for a few dozen minutes so I could post a few photo galleries on my profile.

I spent a good part of the afternoon with rings totaling one kilo stretching my balls. My last coworker just left. I’m going to take this opportunity to shove a butt plug up my ass and jerk off half-naked at my desk while looking at wankers’ dicks and big tits. I’m a little ashamed to write this. But the truth is, it turns me on.

Another day where I did nothing but two things: 1. Masturbate. 2. Think about masturbating. The first one took up most of my time.

7 p.m., Monday. My wife just called me to ask if I wanted to join her for dinner with her friends at a restaurant. I told her I still had a lot of work to do. I just want to masturbate, of course. I can’t resist the urge to masturbate.

A Saturday of Masturbation
My wife left this morning and will be gone for most of the day and evening. As soon as she left our apartment, I immediately started masturbating. I had an extraordinarily powerful orgasm, with a leather bag weighted with 2 kg of lead clamped around my testicles. It’s almost 1:00 p.m. in Paris. I’m going to my workplace, where no one is around. I keep steel rings there that I use to constrict my testicles so I can masturbate again in peace. I’m 60 years old, and my life has revolved around masturbation for decades. How did I manage to maintain the appearance of a “normal” life all this time? I don’t know. But the mere act of voicing this obsession—so central to my existence—excites me immensely.