Raincoats for Playtime
View allAll Photos Tagged masturbating
Okay. I know that the portable music player has been around for ages. My first was a transistor radio. Then there were "ghetto blasters." Then came the Walkman. And now, of course, the iPod.
Don't get me wrong. I love music. And I love the iPod's technology. What I don't love... or have any level of comfort with... is groovin' out to music in public.
Maybe it's just me, but it seems like such a private, intimate, personal thing. When I see people on the street, or on the bus, or wherever, with those little white ear plugs... blissing out in their own little worlds... it makes me a bit uncomfortable. It reminds me of my highschool graduation night party, which was out in a big field somewhere. As I made my way from Point A to Point B in the latenight dark... I tripped on something. And it was a boy I'd never seen before... masturbating.
It was pretty dark, and he was pretty out of it. Plus, he had his eyes closed. And I - stumbling onto such a thing unexpectedly, and never having seen a boy masturbate before - was stuck somewhere between shock and prurient fascination. And that's the scene that comes to mind every time I see someone lost in their own little iPod-assisted quasi-erotic, eyesclosed mindbodymusic meld.
I have, of course, grooved publicly at rawk shows. But that's different. It is akin, I think, to the gay bath house scenario. We're all engaged in our own little worlds, and expressing ourselves physically... and there is a sense of kinship... but it's dark, and anonymous. None of us can really see (or wants to see) each other... and we're all there for the same reason, engaged in the same... er, passion. It's when this kind of thing is engaged in out of context... in public, where most of us keep our passions hidden... that I find it just a little bit uncomfortable.
So... yeah. When Mike handed down his old, first generation i-Pod to me... it sat and gathered dust. I tried it in the garden, but when I'm outside, I'd much rather listen to the sounds of the natural world. I tried it on the bus once, travelling to the mainland.... but found the conflict too unnerving.
You want to get lost in the music. You want to let it take you over. You want to get to that dreamy place where you almost leave your body.
But... omigod - in public??? GAH!!! No way.
I prefer to indulge in private, where I can be free and completely unselfconscious. And if I want to close my eyes and twirl and swing my skirt... so be it. Ain't nobody's business if I do.
Those who follow me on twitter (which is about 3 people on Flickr) should have read about this couple, who often meet up on the grass just outside my house. Usually it's too dark for me to get a photo but they met up one afternoon so I could sneak a couple of pictures. First time I saw them, I caught him masturbating (inside his jeans), and other times they usually have their hands down each other's pants or up their tops. On this occasion it seems he was admiring her breasts.
Taken on 9 August 2010 for the benefit of everyone on Twitter.
Those who follow me on twitter (which is about 3 people on Flickr) should have read about this couple, who often meet up on the grass just outside my house. Usually it's too dark for me to get a photo but they met up one afternoon so I could sneak a couple of pictures. First time I saw them, I caught him masturbating (inside his jeans), and other times they usually have their hands down each other's pants or up their tops.
Taken on 9 August 2010 for the benefit of everyone on Twitter.
beauty at the beach...
this is one of the first pics of cumisha
i ever shot of her modeling for me...
Do not use these images without my permission. © All rights reserved 2014. Brian McStotts
From KILLJOY
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From OMY
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"Hi Doctor Blue," said the man on the phone. "I'm 55 years old and I'm a compulsive masturbator."
"How compulsive?" asked the radio psychologist, a woman in her 60s with more than a little experience with the subject at hand.
"Oh," said the man. "It's pretty bad. Five, six, seven times a day."
"Oh," said the psychologist. "And do you have a job?"
"Yes," said the man.
"Are you successful?"
"Yes," he said, sounding somewhat incredulous. "Believe it or not, I am. But I'm sure I could be a lot more successful if I wasn't... you know. Taking matters into my hands all the time."
"Right," said the psychologist. "Here's what I want you to do. Are you okay financially? Do you have a partner? Does your partner work?
"Yes," said the man. "Yes to all of the above."
"Good," said Doctor Blue. "Here's what I want you to do."
"Hang on," said the man. "I need to get a pen."
"Don't bother," said the doctor. "This is easy to remember."
"Okay," the man said. "Shoot."
"What I want you to do," said the doctor, "is schedule a vacation. Take six or eight or... hell... even 20 weeks away from your job. And do nothing but masturbate... all day, every day."
The man said nothing in response so the doctor said, "Are you still there? Did you hear what I said?"
"Uhh, yes," said the man. "I heard you."
"So?" said the doctor. "Can you do that for me? Seriously. Just try it, alright? And call me back when the time is up, and see how you're feeling."
So the man took the radio psychologist's advice. He cancelled all his work obligations and, for the next six months, did little other than eat, sleep and masturbate. His world grew very small and dark, lit only by his fantasies.
At the end of this period, his penis was rubbed raw. Even with the slipperiest lubes he could find, his skin couldn't handle the friction.
There was friction in his relationship, too. His partner soon grew tired of his "therapy," not to mention having to be the household's sole provider. On top of that, the partner wasn't getting any sex because the man was too busy (and sore from) masturbating.
When the six months was done, the man called back to Doctor Blue and her radio show and reported what had happened. He was not feeling happy. Not at all.
"Good," said the doctor. "See?"
But the man didn't see. "What do you mean?" he asked. "What am I supposed to see?"
"Well," she said. "How do you feel about masturbating now?"
He paused. "It hurts."
"What else?" she prompted.
"Well," he said, "it's ruining my relationship. And, after months of not working, not bringing in any money, I feel like a loser, like a parasite."
"And what do you have to show for your six months off?" she asked.
"Other than a VISA bill the size of Mount Everest? And a bad case of chafing? Not much," he said.
"See?" she replied. "You've learned your lesson."
"Huh?" he said. "I don't follow. What, exactly, do you think I've learned?"
"That anything done to the exclusion of everything else soon loses its attraction."
"But," he said. "I still want to masturbate. Every day. All the time."
"Yeah, well," said the doctor. "That's life. And that's your other lesson from all of this. You are who you are, and you do what you do, and the way you've found to cope with it, all on your own, is probably the best you'll ever do."
The man was silent.
Not because he had nothing to say. In fact, he had a lot to say. He was angry. And let down. And frustrated. And chafed, dammit. But no one in the listening audience got to hear that part, because, as soon as the man had said "I still want to..." his phone line had, courtesy of Doctor Blue's producer, gone dead.
So the man went back to work, and back to his old routines, and that was pretty much that. He got over his anger, and his chafing healed, and he started having sex with his partner again, and masturbating half a dozen times a day again.
One afternoon, as he was rushing to squeeze one more in (or out, as the case may be), he felt his brain go back to a place where it hadn't been in a long time. He found himself, fleetingly, wishing he could just chuck everything else and do nothing but masturbate, forever.
And then he remembered: he had tried that. And six months had been too long. So, surely, forever would not be a good thing. And speaking of things, his apparatus was suddenly limp in his hands. As if it had, finally, lost its allure.
Dairy Queen Experience: Masturbation Made a Mess Out of Me. I wish I could say that their full length albums were as wonderful as this record, but I can't. Still, this is an amazing single, "I'm out of touch with reality...masturbation made a mess out of me." (Feel Good All Over, 1992)
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Although the glare was irritating and obstructive, this boy was playing with himself in a way he should not have in front of a group of little girl scouts of about 8 years old who were in turn actually not surprised by his actions. One of them just commented loudly, "you got to be kidding me!" I however waited until he was finished to take this photo, but it still seems a bit obvious, not that it matters.
Now you know why he's REALLY called "Clutch"!
"Let it out" is a real Kleenex corporate slogan, at least they're not in denial as to how their products are being used!
this is cumisha's favorite image that i
have shot of her...
Do not use these images without my permission. © All rights reserved 2014. Brian McStotts
Give Peace a Chance
- John Lennon
Ev'rybody's talkin' 'bout
Bagism, Shagism, Dragism, Madism, Ragism, Tagism
This-ism, that-ism, ism ism ism
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
(C'mon)
Ev'rybody's talkin' 'bout
Minister, Sinister, Banisters and Canisters,
Bishops, Fishops, Rabbis, and Pop Eyes, Bye bye, Bye byes
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
(Let me tell you now)
Ev'rybody's talkin' 'bout
Revolution, Evolution, Masturbation, Flagellation, Regulation,
Integrations, mediations, United Nations, congratulations
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
Ev'rybody's talkin' 'bout
John and Yoko, Timmy Leary, Rosemary,
Tommy Smothers, Bobby Dylan, Tommy Cooper,
Derek Taylor, Norman Mailer, Alan Ginsberg, Hare Krishna
Hare Hare Krishna
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance