House Arrest

House Arrest

How to Quit Porn and Not Entirely Ruin Your Life
Hi, I’m Brian. Welcome to Tubesteak, a regular column where I talk about penises mostly and what I do with mine and what you should do with yours. There will also be some discussion of cocks, cocksuckers, cuckolds, and maybe, just maybe, a clitoris or two. But, honestly, mostly just dicks.

There I was, lying in bed ass-naked at 1 AM on a Tuesday night with my eyes closed pulling on my limp dick like a bird trying to get a worm out of the frozen ground. This is what jerking off had become for me: fiddling around with a mushy penis like I was searching for a prize at the bottom of a bowl of ramen. I never should have given up porn.
In a valiant effort to prove that my cock wasn’t indebted to images of manufactured sexual abandon, I had decided to give up pornography altogether to show that I could still beat off like a 15-year-old who just discovered what happens on Cinemax after midnight. But I couldn’t. It had been a week and I hadn’t gotten wood of any kind but the morning variety since.
Before going any further, I should mention that I probably have a more complicated relationship to porn than most people. I wish I could say it’s because I’m hot and hung enough to star in it, but I am neither. Like most horny uglies with small dicks and big opinions, I took to writing about porn, covering the industry and its gossip on Fleshbot for about four years. Watching people fuck had lost its magic for me—it was workand I was “doing research” nearly every day.
It’s not that I became desensitized to it. Oh no, I was still slapping my salami as often as possible, but I had only done it in the company of visual stimulation for as long as I could remember. In high school I had underwear catalogs (and, yes, Cinemax), and then, after getting a job in a bookstore, I purloined stroke mags that were supposed to be mailed back to the distributor. In college I graduated to VHS tapes before DVDs took over. Then, when the internet hit, I had every type of porn known to man just sitting there in my room, waiting for me to masturbate to it. The straw that broke the camel’s penis, however, was when keeping up with it became my professional obligation. My member was more dependent on seeing poles going into holes than I ever imagined.
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How to Quit Porn and Not Entirely Ruin Your Life

Hi, I’m Brian. Welcome to Tubesteak, a regular column where I talk about penises mostly and what I do with mine and what you should do with yours. There will also be some discussion of cocks, cocksuckers, cuckolds, and maybe, just maybe, a clitoris or two. But, honestly, mostly just dicks.

There I was, lying in bed ass-naked at 1 AM on a Tuesday night with my eyes closed pulling on my limp dick like a bird trying to get a worm out of the frozen ground. This is what jerking off had become for me: fiddling around with a mushy penis like I was searching for a prize at the bottom of a bowl of ramen. I never should have given up porn.

In a valiant effort to prove that my cock wasn’t indebted to images of manufactured sexual abandon, I had decided to give up pornography altogether to show that I could still beat off like a 15-year-old who just discovered what happens on Cinemax after midnight. But I couldn’t. It had been a week and I hadn’t gotten wood of any kind but the morning variety since.

Before going any further, I should mention that I probably have a more complicated relationship to porn than most people. I wish I could say it’s because I’m hot and hung enough to star in it, but I am neither. Like most horny uglies with small dicks and big opinions, I took to writing about porn, covering the industry and its gossip on Fleshbot for about four years. Watching people fuck had lost its magic for me—it was workand I was “doing research” nearly every day.

It’s not that I became desensitized to it. Oh no, I was still slapping my salami as often as possible, but I had only done it in the company of visual stimulation for as long as I could remember. In high school I had underwear catalogs (and, yes, Cinemax), and then, after getting a job in a bookstore, I purloined stroke mags that were supposed to be mailed back to the distributor. In college I graduated to VHS tapes before DVDs took over. Then, when the internet hit, I had every type of porn known to man just sitting there in my room, waiting for me to masturbate to it. The straw that broke the camel’s penis, however, was when keeping up with it became my professional obligation. My member was more dependent on seeing poles going into holes than I ever imagined.

CONTINUE

Pornification

If you’re not at work and are on the internet right now, chances are you’ve got your dick or vagina out. Hell, I’m at work and I’ve got my dick out anyway (it’s cool, our HR department doesn’t read this website). Let’s face it, aside from answering emails and tweeting a thing or two every now and again, if you’re online you’re masturbating. Which makes sense—the internet was invented by a handful of horny individuals who dreamt of creating a platform where they could facilitate the instantaneous exchange of ATM, DP, RTF, BBW, and CBT content around the globe. They succeeded.

So to celebrate jerking off and the things/people we jerk off to, next week we’ll be premiering a new series called Pornification. The show will be a frank discussion about the smorgasbord of smut that people watch. The interviewees will come from a variety of backgrounds—some who are in the porn industry and some who aren’t—and will answer personal questions about their taste in pornography and how it applies to them in real life.

The trailer for the show is above, and the first episode premieres on Tuesday, June 26. OK, you can go back to Pornhub now.

(Source: Vice Magazine)

"This week, Slate published an article by Dave Johns asking whether masturbation is an inmate’s god-given right. I found the piece well-composed and bonerably intriguing—just about the only thing missing was the perspective of someone who’s actually jerked it in a cell, so I thought I’d respond.
I can really only speak about my limited experience of six years in mostly medium- and minimum-security prisons in New York State. I did visit maximum-security prisons for very brief stints and associated with dudes who spent lengthy periods in max prisons, and really never heard too much about prison rape. Masturbation and rape don’t really belong in the same conversation as far as I can tell, and if prisons are banning porn to stem rape, that is complete and utter bullshit, obviously. Maybe NYS prisons are better regulated than other states, but most of the people I’ve spoken to seem to believe that prisons were much worse back in the day. Since the 90s, NYS prisons have been flooded with non-violent drug offenders like myself. The spots I’ve been at are pretty much dominated by friendly dummies like me and it seems our influence in numbers contributes to a relatively chill atmosphere. Most of us just wanna go home, so we kinda follow the rules, and luckily in NYDOCS we are free to beat meat at our own speed.”
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"This week, Slate published an article by Dave Johns asking whether masturbation is an inmate’s god-given right. I found the piece well-composed and bonerably intriguing—just about the only thing missing was the perspective of someone who’s actually jerked it in a cell, so I thought I’d respond.

I can really only speak about my limited experience of six years in mostly medium- and minimum-security prisons in New York State. I did visit maximum-security prisons for very brief stints and associated with dudes who spent lengthy periods in max prisons, and really never heard too much about prison rape. Masturbation and rape don’t really belong in the same conversation as far as I can tell, and if prisons are banning porn to stem rape, that is complete and utter bullshit, obviously. Maybe NYS prisons are better regulated than other states, but most of the people I’ve spoken to seem to believe that prisons were much worse back in the day. Since the 90s, NYS prisons have been flooded with non-violent drug offenders like myself. The spots I’ve been at are pretty much dominated by friendly dummies like me and it seems our influence in numbers contributes to a relatively chill atmosphere. Most of us just wanna go home, so we kinda follow the rules, and luckily in NYDOCS we are free to beat meat at our own speed.”

Continue