Friday, August 31, 2012

The Story Almost No Guy Will EVER Tell


Every guy has a good masturbation story, but will almost never tell it… here is mine. Several years ago I had left a bar around one in the morning, and I was VERY drunk so I decided to walk home as it was only a few miles. Or should I say stumble home. Armed with my backpack and a BAC roughly at .25 I trudged toward my house. 
Of course I had not thought to get the flashlight out of my truck as that would have required a few functioning brain cells. About a half mile into my stumblethon, my alcohol-drenched brain decided that the walk was going to take too long, and even though the voices in my head told me not to, I decided to take a shortcut through the woods to get home. Of course there were no trails, but I used to be a Boy Scout, and I’m a MAN, and I’m DRUNK. So I do MANLY things, like rampage through the underbrush. I was hoping to come across an animal I could eat….
 
 My testosterone was flowing like a swollen river in a hurricane, and I was convinced that I would start growing chest hair before I got home.  After clambering through the darkness and thick vegetation for about ten minutes I came to a very steep hill, a cliff really, all rocks and vines. Easy enough, I thought, so being a tough rugged MAN in the woods, I climbed the steep cliff using vines, rocks, branches… anything I could grab to ascend the 20 feet or so to the top.

At some point my drunken foggy brain took a wrong turn in the woods and I ended up coming out into civilization about a mile and a half from my house.  Disgusted, and hyped up on beer and testosterone I angrily marched home. After a few more beers from the fridge, I decided I had had enough and went to bed. Before passing out though the testosterone overload I was experiencing came to a head, and my groin demanded some manual attention. I will now pan ten minutes into the future to save you from the sordid details. With a contented smile, I passed out and probably snored like a bear with sleep apnea.



The next morning I awoke with not a hangover like I would have expected, but a strange itching sensation between my fingers. Through bleary eyes that I could barely open I saw a red blistery rash all over my hands. Horror raced through my brain like a retarded camel. I flipped back the blankets to confirm what I thought… OH THE HUMANITY!!! My EVERYTHING was covered in poison ivy. Then the itching began in earnest. I ran to a mirror as fast as my slightly drunken legs could carry me to survey the damage. My face, shoulders, chest, stomach, junk, legs and feet were covered in the worst red puss-filled rash I had ever seen.

 My eyes were swollen almost shut, and my nether-regions looked like I had contracted super-herpes from Mars. Needless to say, if you’re going to take a short cut, bring a flashlight so you can identify poison ivy before you use it to climb a cliff.