Massaging the one-eyed monk

A certain person, whose name I won't reveal in order to spare him embarrassment, told me earlier today that he has a slightly painful knee. When I enquired as to why this might be, he said the only reason he can think of is that he'd just spent five hours on his knees on a hardwood floor masturbating.

After mopping up the coffee I'd just dribbled into my lap I asked him why he'd done such a thing and this led, rather inevitably, into a discussion on various techniques for male self-pleasure.

This person, apparently, finds it easier to "finish," as it were, when he's on his knees, though one would think that after five hours it shouldn't be all that difficult in any position. He expressed astonishment that I'd never tried that particular bodily configuration while arguing with Henry Longfellow, and I explained it had never even occurred to me.

Then he told me about one friend of his who likes to discipline his soldier in the kitchen, and then dishonorably discharge into the garbage can. Another friend likes to wait until late at night, when everyone else is in bed, before lying on the kitchen floor and doing the pork sword jiggle with all his might. One night as he was thus engaged his wife, whom he thought was safely asleep in bed, walked into the kitchen. "What the hell are you doing??" she asked, naturally a tad taken aback to find her husband in hand-to-hand combat with the purple stormtrooper in such a patently inappropriate location. "I'm trying to have a wank," explained the man a trifle hotly. One can only imagine how the scene developed from there.

Anyway, all this led me to thinking that there's much more to jackin' the beanstalk than I'd previously suspected. "Do perhaps my readers, being deviants all, have a story to share?" I wondered to myself. Well? Do you? I invite you to take advantage of the anonymous comment facility. (Women too -- this is an equal-opportunity, er, opportunity.) Go on... You know you want to.