MASTURBATION
Two Hands Are Better Than One
You can’t beat it
I’ve been masturbating for as long as I can remember, years now-decades to be exact.
Straightforward stuff. Nothing fancy. In fact, rarely do I even employ a lotion, just my hand.
My left hand to be precise.
Over those years-decades I’d occasionally read that to add some excitement — some spice — one should switch hands.
I never did. Just wasn’t that interested.
I never tried to be exact, and then I went for it.
Regular night, nothing particularly special, more of a whim than a premeditated thought.
“Hey there right hand, let’s give this a whirl,” I said.
Nothing. Literally nothing. I mean my hand actually wouldn’t grab me.
“What’s going on here?” I asked somewhat rhetorically, obviously not expecting an answer.
I tried again. Still nothing. Not only would my hand not curl it actually went limp. The hand that is.
“What’s going on here?” I asked, definitely non-rhetorically this time.
“I can’t,” said my right hand.
“You can’t or you won’t?” I asked directly this time. I was flummoxed and a little angry.
“You’re correct I won’t,” said my right hand.
“But, but, but why?” I asked without any emotion, almost robotically.
“Because I’m in love with another man,” said the right hand. “For years you’ve ignored me. I have needs too.”
There was nothing I could say.
“I’m leaving you,” said my right hand.
So, I turned to my left hand but before I could swivel my head in its direction, it blurted out:
“You two-timing son of a bitch mother f’r! If you think for one second you’re getting anything tonight, you, you, you must be out of your mind!”
And with that, I went to bed.
Alone.
