First, we had the story of David Carradine potentially dying from Auto-Erotic Asphyxiation, and now we have a confirmed story of Wolverine Impersonator dying from the same game of Auto-Erotic Asphyxiation. Trying to masturbate in a way that could involve suicide is fucking stupid, so first of all, don’t do that. Secondly, if anyone is going to play sexual games that could involve injury: They should have a partner who will either save their life, prevent them from dying in the first place, or someone fully capable of dialing 9-1-1.
Before I go further with why you should have a sexual partner and not delve into sick forms of Masturbation, I would like to quickly discuss Auto-Erotic Asphyxiation. Auto-Erotic Asphyxiation, for those who don’t understand Latin, is when a person chokes, gags, wraps, or finds creative ways to cut of their air supply as a means to gain sexual pleasure, and can be coupled with sexual stimulation or masturbation. Wikipedia simply states it as: “Erotic asphyxiation or breath control play is the intentional restriction of oxygen to the brain for sexual arousal.” Examples of this include David Carradine hanging himself while cranking it in a closet, or this Wolverine guy who wrapped himself in saran wrap and nylon and asphyxiated himself to death while trying to gain sexual pleasure. Supposedly, Auto-Erotic Asphyxiation is super stimulating and make the orgasm more pleasurable, but at the same time, you might die. Auto-Erotic Asphyxiation in it’s pleasure-versus-death tango is basically considered the heroin of masturbation. For those unaware, heroin is bad for you.
Sexual partners are a very important thing to have, given you’re responsible enough to have sexual relations, and they help in two ways: One, we don’t have to wallow in pitiful amounts of masturbation, and Two: we can do so many more creative and strange things that we really just can’t do alone. Certainly, there are reasons to understand why being alone can create heightened senses of fear and pleasure while performing self-bondage, auto-erotic asphyxiation, etc, but those are fucking lame the instant we come across the glorious landscape of a sexual partner. I have my whole life to deal with my body, but I only have a short time (by comparison) to share my time with a sexual partner and their body is a fucking wonderland. (Thanks John Mayer).
I can tell you, with extreme confidence, that the worst blowjob I have ever received was still better Read the rest of this entry »
Seriously, the shit Taylor gets me into. Yesterday, being Tuesday December 20th, Taylor gives me a call at 3PM asking if I would like to go out to a party with him that he was invited to by two Asian girls he had just met on the train no more than a week ago. He tells me this during that phone conversation:
“I asked them if it was going to be a party with alcohol, they said no. I asked them if it was going to be a party with dancing, they said no. They said it was going to be a party with ten or so people sitting around and talking, but having been to China, ‘sitting around and talking’ means there’s going to be a giant 4 course meal, so bring your stomach.”
I agree to go. Taylor is an identical copy of me: he and I look like brothers, we like the same exact stuff and I have gone on random adventures like this with him before and had an awesome time each time (one including an incredible spur of the moment concert with punk bands). Agreeing to this is no big deal, Taylor and I get ourselves knee deep into things all the time, so why should this be any more different? We decide to meet each other at the T at 5:30pm and take the bus together to these girls’ house just past the Quincy shipyard in Braintree.
(Note: This post is very long and if you want to avoid the details and you just want to read the rant, scroll down to “In Retrospect“)
When I arrived at Quincy Center, Read the rest of this entry »