STORIES

I Had the Swankiest Wank Ever for National Masturbation Day

By Justin Caffier on June 5, 2017

If you felt a greater urge than usual to rub one out on Sunday, it might have been due to the fact that May 28 was National Masturbation Day. This explosive finish to the crescendo of National Masturbation Month was initially devised by sex-positive adult toy store Good Vibrations as a method of both selling wares and honoring Joycelyn Elders, the U.S. Surgeon General unceremoniously fired by President Clinton for having the gall to suggest that masturbation should be discussed in sex ed curriculum.

Today, more than two decades after its inception, National Masturbation Day/Month is still in the news, invoked for philanthropic and foolish ideas alike. And though jerking off has seemingly come a long way since the Clinton administration in terms of both public destigmatization and government acceptance of its scientifically proven health benefits, we're not in the clear just yet. 

With Mike Pence—a champion of abstinence-only sex education who regards condoms as "too modern"—just a heartbeat or impeachment away from the presidency, it's feasible that America could somehow slip back to pre-Clinton policies regarding the bad touch. With this in mind, I made it my mission to celebrate the holiday to the fullest by having the most opulent orgasm of my life.

Whether performed as a sleep aid, natural relaxant or simply for a hit of that sweet, sweet dopamine, my usual masturbation routine is a relatively utilitarian and unflattering bit of business. To shake things up for this special occasion, I decided to deconstruct and optimize every element of the act.

First order of business was upgrading the ambiance. I bought some flameless, flickering votive candles to help set an amorous mood. A lavender-vanilla air freshening mist would also come in handy as both scents are purported to have aphrodisiacal powers.

Next, I looked into ways of elevating my physical pleasure during the session. I researched and purchased a fancy personal lubricant heralded as the best in the biz for solo work. I bought a silk handkerchief to catch my seed, a vast improvement over the usual receptacles. And figuring that all my skin, not just my penis, should be bathed in luxury for such a once-in-a-lifetime experience, I also secured a silk kimono to wear while stroking.

I realized I was going to be putting a lot of pressure on myself to perform once it was go time so, as a precautionary measure, I got a friend to hook me up with a Viagra to pop beforehand so as to mitigate any pre-game jitters.

I began my search for the final piece of the puzzle: suitable video fodder. The normal parade of hub site tarts would be entirely inappropriate for the high-class affair I was cooking up. This proved to be the most difficult task on my checklist.

While there were a number of artsy or socially responsible videos out there vying for my attention during the pre-selection process, none felt quite right. Queries for "aristocrat" and "classy" porn proved fruitless as well, yielding the usual fucking and sucking vids, just with more riding crops and/or hosiery. It was clear I'd need a visual stimulus that matched my own lofty aspirations.

Maybe I'd been thinking about this all wrong, focusing on my dream video's content rather than its formation. Only the porno holding the record for biggest budget would be suitable. And so, Digital Playground's 2008 classic Pirates II: Stagnetti's Revenge, produced for a whopping $8 million, would help usher in my orgasm. Taking no chances with spotty streaming, I downloaded the 138-minute swashbuckler epic to my laptop.

Sunday arrived and I was ready and raring to go, teeming from a few days of abstinence so as to ensure an emission worthy of all this fuss. I popped my pill and, once I began to feel it, started setting up the ceremony. Something was off. The added ambience wasn't distracting from the fact that I was still just jerking off in my apartment like always. If I was going to do this right, I'd have to add a ritzy change of scenery to the equation.

I couldn’t afford to spring for a room at a fancy hotel for just a few minutes of bliss, but there was nothing (beyond common decency) to stop me from taking care of business in one of the just-as-fancy-as-the-rooms lobby bathrooms of one of these hotels. There was a swanky, modern hotel near me that I thought I remembered having a gaudy bathroom with a large handicap stall with floor to ceiling walls, and the internet confirmed it was luxe enough that the cheapest rooms were going for just under $400. So, racing the Viagra clock, I packed up my gear and headed to the spot.

For obvious reasons, I'm not going to give up the name of my destination, but their lobby bathroom wound up being everything I could have hoped for and more. I beelined to the restroom to find my spacious stall empty and immaculate. My good fortune continued as I discovered it contained an equally clean baby changing tray that would make for a decent ersatz laptop and candle table. 

I'll spare the sordid details as this isn't that kind of article, but everything went off without a hitch. My lubricant felt like angel kisses, the decade-old porno was still steamy, and my foppish silk hanky added just the right elegant flourish to those final moments. 

Is this how billionaires feel when they cum? I wondered.

Best of all, I was able to camp out in the bathroom for about 20 uninterrupted minutes of pleasure, with not a single person coming in to pee or arrest me! 

I packed and freshened up and exited the building with a spring in my step, the few staff and guests milling about none the wiser of the little reverse-heist mission I'd just pulled off. 

I write this contented, knowing that I did Joycelyn Elders proud and, no matter what the future may hold, Mike Pence will never be able to take from me the one bright, shining moment where I got a taste of the good life and jacked off like a VIP.

Photo credit: Flickr/Noir. Follow Justin Caffier on Twitter.

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