How I Broke My Dick: A Cautionary Tale of Average Length
It was one of those rare moments when you realize the predicament you’re in can’t easily be fixed. I was having sex and then there was a pop. The next minute, I sat stupidly at the end of the bed, staring down at my crotch—eyes wide, jaw hanging open.
“Is it just dye from the condom?”
My then quasi-girlfriend was a little too casual for my liking. I continued to stare at my penis, too stunned to answer.
“No it’s definitely not the condom.”
After running a quick play-by-play in my head, my worst fears had been actualized. I had pulled out a minute before, hastily tearing off the black condom and smacking the light switch to examine the damage only to find out, to my horror, what looked like a growing blood blister on the side of my most dear possession.
Meet the guys fighting to save your baby’s foreskin.
– Bucket hats are essentially rap fedoras, let’s abort them now.
− Don’t be the guy who doesn’t wear shorts.
− Skinny shorts on men need to be expunged from history, as they make it really easy for people to picture what you’d look like naked except for a T-shirt and socks, AKA the most unattractive a man can ever be.
− The recently popularity of vests has been a failed experiment, no one wants to see your spider-y pit pubes and they make you look like one of the Satanists from True Detective.
− Everyone is onto the buttoned-up-to-the-top polo shirt look, so it’s time for the rest of us to cut that thing loose, although I will concede it did make us all look very smart for a few summers.
− John Lennon style sunglasses have been making a tentative comeback, it’s probably best they don’t, eh?
Read the whole guide
A Boy’s Guide to Not Being a Dick This Summer
Inevitably, summer is coming. There’s plenty of room here to cite some recent articles about heatwaves, climate change, and girls wearing shorts, but you’re not basement dwelling Redditors or people who review metal records on YouTube, you’ve been outside in just a T-shirt already this year, you don’t need to be babied.
In fact, given that you’re all such sophisticated young adults, we can afford to skim over park etiquette right now. If for some strange reason you haven’t got this yet, here’s the bare bones of how to conduct yourself in a park:
– Stereo = dickhead
– Ukulele = dickhead
– Guitar = dickhead
– Bongos = dickhead
– Sitting in a circle = dickhead
– Disposable BBQ = dickhead
– Upturned bin = dickhead
– Trying to impress children by curling their footballs back to them = dickhead
Now we’re clear on the basics, let’s firm up a few other summer-related issues that you might not be so au fait with.
So it’s like going to the gym for your vagina?
Yeah, but it’s not like you’re maxing out. You’re not picking up pianos with your vagina—you’re picking up blueberries, so don’t squish them and make a mess. It’s very gentle.
—We talked to pelvic floor physiotherapist Julia Di Paolo about the proper way to do Kegels (the blueberries are imaginary).
In Defense of American Bros
We need to support these men, our finest specimens. The ones whose asses bounce in their jock straps as they strut toward the shower in the locker room. The ones who jog shirtless through the park, the sweat cascading in rivulets into their sopping shorts. The ones who sit with their legs so wide on the subway, calling attention from all quarters to the fleshy mass in their shorts that is just dying to be sucked. These are our champions, and we really should be championing them.
I’ve certainly done my part. One night, back in college, I was driving home with my bro friend Dave, who was majoring in econ and pussy pounding. He had a bad night with one too many green Jell-O shots (green is always the worst color), and the girl he was getting handsy with had the audacity to reject him. He had made a big scene about how it didn’t bother him, how he had bigger and hotter girls, and how he gets as much ass as he could ever want. But in the car he was different. He was despondent, clearly lingering on his rejection. “You OK?” I asked. “Yeah, bra. You know, bitches,” he said. “Yeah,” I replied putting my hand on the knee of his jeans. I left it there a little too long, and when he looked at me, I didn’t know what to expect.
“Dude, will you do me a favor?” he asked. “Will you tickle my back?” He took off his white baseball cap and pulled his T-shirt over his head, his rippling muscles flexing and relaxing in astounding patterns as he bent over in the passenger’s seat. I rubbed the tips of my fingers across his smooth skin for what seemed like hours. Eventually he sat up, and I moved my hands. “Keep going,” he said, letting me cup the firm contours of his chest, the stiff prickles of his nipples, the trail of hair that lead into his jeans. I rubbed everywhere, down onto the crotch of his jeans, which was now propped up with what those “bitches” didn’t want. I let my hands rest on the button of his jeans, unsure of how to proceed, thinking as much about his own pleasure as what was happening in my own jeans. I hovered there a minute, and he sat up straight in the chair, his head back and eyes closed waiting to get what he wanted—no, what he deserved.
“What are you waiting for?” he said, remaining still.
Man, there is nothing better than fucking a bro.
Read the whole thing
Why the #CockInASock Thing Is Vain Bullshit
Last week, 2.6 million women sacrificed their makeup, raised their tired arms in the air, pouted, and took a #nomakeupselfie to raise awareness for breast cancer. This week, boys have found their own inane counterpart: the #cockinasock.
The cock-in-a-sock concept, though probably as old as socks themselves, was most memorably championed by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and since then it has gone from strength to strength, appearing in American Pie and bringing the homoerotic LOLs far and wide, from boarding school dorms to stinking holiday flats in Tenerife. That is, until now, when it’s become the latest weapon in the fight against ball cancer.
If you’re wondering what putting a sock on your dick and posting a picture of it on the internet has to do with raising money for charity, the mechanism is the same as the #nomakeupselfie. Take your picture, text the word “BEAT” to 70099 to donate three bucks to fighting cancer, and then encourage the giggling co-workers on your Facebook page to do the same. It’s the kind of viral campaign that gacky brand marketers strive a lifetime to come up with.
Examining the Pull of Group Masturbation Parties
Of the various group masturbation parties 30-year-old nudist Kyle Rudd has attended over the years, the biggest one drew a dozen-odd men, predominantly over 50. He was the third to arrive that night, and when he walked inside, the host and another guy were already naked. As the remainder of the guests sauntered in, conversation centered on things like work, how the week had been, and the bodies and penises on display. Rudd did most of his masturbating—a blend of group and solo—from the vantage point of the organizer’s couch and managed to ejaculate on himself three or four times in six hours. In the breaks between these bouts of industry, Rudd, a Melbourne-based arts-sector employee, spent his time socializing, drinking beer, and eating pizza.
While some men might prefer to spend their weekends watching the game or relaxing with the family, Rudd says he had a great time.
“I find genitals to be very erotic—ten out of ten,” he says. “For me, I think being exposed and on display is very erotic. It’s knowing that others are admiring your genitals as they mutually get off on it.”
For anybody entertaining the idea of attending a group masturbation party, the grassroots DIY scene is a fertile field of opportunity, according to Rudd.