You cannot stop the urge to touch yourself

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So you feel the insatiable urge to not only play, but inappropriately demonstrate the biological urges that drive our station.&nbsp;</p>

Or you’re horny, tomato tomato. (That’s to-may-toe, to-mah-toe)

Understand that what you’re going through is completely okay and natural. It’s also disgusting, and you should be ashamed of yourself. Be ashamed of your natural, completely acceptable, and keep-it-behind-closed-doors behaviour. Because hob-knocking is hella-illegal, and I did NOT tell you to do that in the park nearby on a sunny day because doing it outside on a park bench gets your kink off.

This will now become a guide on what to do with this sexy game of solitaire.

Double-check the doors. Are they locked? What do you mean you don’t believe in locks? Since you’re so old school, just barricade the door with that unassuming armoire you’ve had exactly two sexy fantasies about.

Make sure the window is closed   — were you raised in a barn? Turn, close, otherwise shut the blinds; I don’t care how you do it, use duct tape if you have to. I swear that neighbour of yours has been looking at you through a telescope and hoping that axe murderer doesn’t catch you. Unless you want them to get a face full of booty — if you’re into exhibitionism, that’s okay, rescind my advice and make sure to do it loudly and with aplomb — this step is also crucial.

Now, position yourself however you want, according to the level of commitment to laziness: lying down, lying against a wall, sitting in a way that contortionists envy, whatever. 

Now do it.

What do you mean you need more to work with?

Fine. But you do know that I have to keep this gender-neutral and that means more non-specific details right? That means more metaphors than the ones your parents were supposed to introduce you to sex with, and you didn’t have the new curriculum that was introduced recently to help you.

Take your junk. Whatever is telling you to debauch yourself, you grab or caress that thing. You work it, in every which angle, through insertion, rapid friction, gentle caress – oh damn you forgot to get yourself some lubricant or lotion! Go back two steps and get something to ease the pleasure, ‘cause dry-dogging it isn’t for everyone.

Take the time to fantasize and work that fetish you’re into. You know, that one: the one that wakes your libido into the metaphorical “half-chub,” penis or no penis. I know women and unaffiliated genders get half-chubs — I’ve asked around.

Get really in-depth into your imagery, and really let it work you to town. Visualize the train entering the tunnel, a tulip gently — or roughly — against another flower, that sausage duel, or any iteration that is impossibly difficult to type down without fapping myself.

Take your fetish and run with it. If you have to, grab that magazine, yaoi, yuri, furry, furniture porn, or crudely-written fanfiction you left in the pantry and use it. Don’t get it dirty, but damn: go to town.

Go to completion, no one is home. No one’s here to judge you. It’s a wonderful thing, and explore yourself, because I’m not going to do it for you. Just clean up after yourself, destroy all evidence, wash everything, and no one will be the wiser.

Remember to rest, hydrate, and avoid doing it more than three times a day, or else you’ll chafe. Or don’t, I’m neither a doctor nor a life-coach. Just a dude telling you how to deal with your “problem.” Now go fuck yourself.

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