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Don’t be confused by the banana photo — this is not Boosh’s column about the time he had sex with a banana peel. If you want to read that disgustingly erotic story, click here.
No, this is a different kind of story, because it involves sexual relations with an actual woman. A specific type of sexual relation that many people would gripe about, but that one TFM reader, who cold-emailed our tipline (firstname.lastname@example.org), believes is underrated: the handjob. Why is he a fan of handjobs? Because of the events that occurred during one “March Madness and Chill’n” sesh. I’ll let him do all the talking.
I just wanted to share some news with you all. A story of the real underdog. So, last night I had my spring formal date over for some March Madness and Chill’n. After watching the comeback of the century in the UNI vs Texas A&M game, my pissed off rage boner realized luck was in the air. It was on a mission of its own, to bust a load and empty my tank on something other than the shower drain. I tried flexing my calf muscle for minutes on end in attempts to get rid of this bulge that continues to poke her in the back as I assume big spoon. But it was too late, I was fully torqued. One thing leads to another, and before I know it, a cold hand (not my own) enters into my pants. This may seem like a simple task until you realize both my shorts and sweat pants were both tied. I was laying next to Pittsburgs own Houdini. I’m usually not a fan on handjobs, especially when they go in dry and because that is something I can do on my own. She grabs my cock and begins to give it a few pumps. Something about an old fashion Indian rug burn on my dick isn’t amusing to me. Usually at this time I proceed to ask for a blowjob but this one was different, I was in no pain, I could maintain my boner, and she was even showing the balls some love as well. She had this process working like a supply/demand slope, as my pants began to drop, my dick continued to rise. Let me tell you, she definitely found the equilibrium. Now I’m going to skip numbers because if it’s not 69, I don’t fully understand it tbh. The handjob consisted of a well balanced cadence of slow squeezes as if she was palm deep in some moonsand and some quick shakes as if she was “so and so” working the stick shift in Tokyo drift. As I lay there sucking face, my mind drifts away in quick comparison from the past handjobs I had been given, this was HANDS down the best handjob God has graced me with. Her delicate hands continued tug as my own hands continued to wonder. A handjob so good that I committed to attending her sororities formal as well. Something about being tied down in a relationship doesn’t sit well with me. I avoid commitment at all cost but that just shows the magnitude behind this perfectly executed hj. Long story short, don’t rule out handjobs just because they are handjobs, sometimes they can make your night that much. Not all heroes wear capes.
I mean…when you put it that way…it sounds kind of pleasant. I’m sold. How about you?
“Not all heroes wear capes.”.
Image via Shutterstock