I’ve been writing a lot about masturbation lately. I tend to only write about things that interest me and apparently the only interesting thing I’ve been doing lately is masturbating. Before I get to the masturbating story, I guess there’s one other thing I could write about…
I’ve been living in my aunt’s house lately. I hate writing that sentence because I’ve written it many times already and I hate repetition. It’s a necessary preface though. Without it, things might be unnecessarily confusing. Anyway, last night, my aunt asked me if I wanted her to treat me like a son or treat me like a guest. She said that if I were treated like a son, she might yell at me more. I stared at her blankly for a few seconds. It seemed like such a no-brainer that it might be a trick question. Why would I want people to yell at me.
I actually just stare at my aunt until she said something to elaborate. I do that a lot. If people say something stupid to me, I just stare at them. I don’t want to tell them they’re stupid and I don’t want to join the stupidity, so I just literally do nothing. I’m not saying my aunt’s question was stupid, I get it. In her choices, if I chose to be treated like a son, then I get to treat the house like my own home and be more comfortable or some shit like that. The problem is, those don’t apply to me. I’m just a homeless person who happens to be living in a house at the moment. I’m very easy to get along with because I’m super nice and I don’t cause problems for people. But I don’t get comfortable around people who find discomfort in things. If you want me to enjoy your company, I have to be able to freely speak my mind about everything, like about masturbating. I wouldn’t talk to my aunt and (adult) girl cousins about masturbation. (I needed the adult parenthesis in case people think I’m a perverted pedophile.) These relatives have a normal distaste for topics like those. It’s fine, but I have no interest in normal people. Along these lines, anyone who enjoys my blog passes a litmus test to being potentially someone I could enjoy hanging out with.
Now, I didn’t just stare at my aunt like a brain-dead person. I eventually asked her what she might want to yell at me for. She ensured me that I’ve done nothing wrong thus far and tried to think of an example. The example she came up with was saying good morning and good night. She said that if she treated me more like a son, she would enforce things like that. I’ve covered my distaste in these pleasantries in another post with the whole “Hi uncle Philip” crap. … sigh… I’m tired of making statements like these because I have to explain so much just to clarify that I’m not a crazy person.
First off, if people say hi or good morning or good night, I will respond appropriately 100% of the time. The problem I have is with initiating them. I don’t do it because I don’t know if people want to hear it. Sometimes people are tired and moody and don’t want to talk so I’m not going to force them. I hate making an effort to do something that ends up creating negativity, even if the effort and negativity is miniscule. I pretty much no longer find any enjoyment in life so I don’t do anything for myself anymore. Whenever I do something, it’s for other people. I don’t even masturbate for myself anymore. I do it just to appease my dick and as maintenance so I don’t have more reason to be irritated by people. I’m like the most depressing altruist ever. Because creating positivity can be random at times, I’ll do anything that I know will have a positive effect and other than that, I just try to reduce negativity as much as possible.
Anyway… that felt like a pretty pointless rant. I guess I’ll wrap this up with the masturbation story I promised in the title. I randomly experience bouts of horniness and this morning was one of those bouts. I’m very discreet with my masturbating. I’ve masturbated a lot over the past decade and I’ve never been caught. I consider that an accomplishment. This morning didn’t have to be as risky as it was. I could’ve just done it in the washroom and locked the doors but I wanted to use my computer. My computer is visible from the top of the stairs so anyone getting up would be able to catch me. I did it anyway. I heard someone getting up and put my dick away for a moment. No one came downstairs so I resumed. Near the end, I heard washroom sounds. I always feared getting caught during ejaculation because there would be a lot of emotional and chemical confusion. I ended up staring at the top of the stairs for most of it so it was almost pointless to be sitting at the computer.