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Having never been a boy, I had no idea about all the weird shit boys do to get off. Even though I had a big brother, I wasn’t privy to the vast array of strange self-satisfying tools and tricks teenage boys have up their sleeves. That is, until I met my husband and he told me a hilarious story about why he loved climbing the pole at school.
“At first,” he explained, “I just climbed because I liked to see how fast I could get to the top. But one day when I climbed something weird happened. It felt really good. Like, so good I would make sure to climb that pole every morning and every lunch.”
Even as my own sons grew, I didn’t understand just how resourceful boys could be, until I questioned my then-12-year-old about why he had a giant box of condoms in his bedroom.
His hesitation should have been my first clue.
“Well, umm,” he said. “I use them to, uh, you know…”
“To what?” I asked. I had no idea what he was trying to say.
“Oh. Oh, well, OK,” was all I managed to say.
A week later, while out for drinks with my girlfriends, who also had teen boys, I asked if that was normal.
“I don’t know about condoms,” my friend Tammy said, “but I found out my son Charlie was using socks.”
“Socks?” I had never heard of boys sexualizing slippers.
“Yeah, socks. Your boys don’t do that?” Tammy asked. “Well, Charlie does. I swear I won’t even touch his laundry anymore. All it took was one time grabbing a sock that was hard as a rock and I was done. It was nasty!”
Learning about socks, and laughing my ass off watching the Bridesmaids scene where a mom describes cracking her son’s comforter, made me curious about what other means boys employ to get their (pun intended) socks off.
Naturally, I first turned to my husband and sons to learn more. I was in for a surprise with their answers.
Like machine gun fire, my eldest son listed his favorite masturbation props.
“Let’s see, there’s good old wadded-up toilet paper, towels, even shirts. Heck, I’ll use dirty laundry if it’s there. Whatever is within reach, really,” he shared. As he spoke, my younger son nodded his head emphatically.
“Anything else?” I asked. I was all business. Hey, who was I to judge? As a teen, I’d had an amorous moment or two with my favorite bottle of perfume, Love’s Baby Soft, which, if anyone remembers, was totally shaped like a dildo.
“OK, don’t laugh, but one time I put my penis in the vacuum hose,” my youngest said.
“While it was on?” I asked. I’d lost my deadpan expression the moment I picture my son losing his penis in a vacuuming accident.
“Yeah, but it was on low, don’t worry,” he reassured me. “It didn’t feel that good, so I only did it once.”
“Oh, what about paper towel rolls?” my oldest added. “And that time I used the cantaloupe?”
Even my husband was shocked at the cantaloupe revelation. Fruit. Really? I thought that was only a thing women in prison did.
“And the trash can,” my youngest said. Was nothing sacred?
By the end of our conversation, I had the idea that my sons, and probably all teenage boys, used anything and everything at their disposal to masturbate.
With my curiosity quelled, I had to wonder if my quest for knowledge was a worthy endeavor. Honestly, I’ll probably never look at a cantaloupe the same way again, but I am grateful I had this awkward, yet illuminating, discussion with my kids.
They felt confident enough to be real, knowing full well I would write this information and share it with the world. It may seem like too much for some parents, but talks like these let me know that my sons can truly be open with me about any subject, no matter how uncomfortable. Like, penis-in-a-vacuum uncomfortable. Ouch.
Before you go, check out our slideshow below:
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SheKnows is a part of Penske Media Corporation. © 2022 SheMedia, LLC. All Rights Reserved.
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Food
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teenagers
teens
teens and sex
optional screen reader
Legal
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Terms of Use
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Privacy Preferences
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SheKnows Family:
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Fairchild Media
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Gold Derby
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Parenting
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More stories to check out before you go
Having never been a boy, I had no idea about all the weird shit boys do to get off. Even though I had a big brother, I wasn’t privy to the vast array of strange self-satisfying tools and tricks teenage boys have up their sleeves. That is, until I met my husband and he told me a hilarious story about why he loved climbing the pole at school.
“At first,” he explained, “I just climbed because I liked to see how fast I could get to the top. But one day when I climbed something weird happened. It felt really good. Like, so good I would make sure to climb that pole every morning and every lunch.”
Even as my own sons grew, I didn’t understand just how resourceful boys could be, until I questioned my then-12-year-old about why he had a giant box of condoms in his bedroom.
His hesitation should have been my first clue.
“Well, umm,” he said. “I use them to, uh, you know…”
“To what?” I asked. I had no idea what he was trying to say.
“Oh. Oh, well, OK,” was all I managed to say.
A week later, while out for drinks with my girlfriends, who also had teen boys, I asked if that was normal.
“I don’t know about condoms,” my friend Tammy said, “but I found out my son Charlie was using socks.”
“Socks?” I had never heard of boys sexualizing slippers.
“Yeah, socks. Your boys don’t do that?” Tammy asked. “Well, Charlie does. I swear I won’t even touch his laundry anymore. All it took was one time grabbing a sock that was hard as a rock and I was done. It was nasty!”
Learning about socks, and laughing my ass off watching the Bridesmaids scene where a mom describes cracking her son’s comforter, made me curious about what other means boys employ to get their (pun intended) socks off.
Naturally, I first turned to my husband and sons to learn more. I was in for a surprise with their answers.
Like machine gun fire, my eldest son listed his favorite masturbation props.
“Let’s see, there’s good old wadded-up toilet paper, towels, even shirts. Heck, I’ll use dirty laundry if it’s there. Whatever is within reach, really,” he shared. As he spoke, my younger son nodded his head emphatically.
“Anything else?” I asked. I was all business. Hey, who was I to judge? As a teen, I’d had an amorous moment or two with my favorite bottle of perfume, Love’s Baby Soft, which, if anyone remembers, was totally shaped like a dildo.
“OK, don’t laugh, but one time I put my penis in the vacuum hose,” my youngest said.
“While it was on?” I asked. I’d lost my deadpan expression the moment I picture my son losing his penis in a vacuuming accident.
“Yeah, but it was on low, don’t worry,” he reassured me. “It didn’t feel that good, so I only did it once.”
“Oh, what about paper towel rolls?” my oldest added. “And that time I used the cantaloupe?”
Even my husband was shocked at the cantaloupe revelation. Fruit. Really? I thought that was only a thing women in prison did.
“And the trash can,” my youngest said. Was nothing sacred?
By the end of our conversation, I had the idea that my sons, and probably all teenage boys, used anything and everything at their disposal to masturbate.
With my curiosity quelled, I had to wonder if my quest for knowledge was a worthy endeavor. Honestly, I’ll probably never look at a cantaloupe the same way again, but I am grateful I had this awkward, yet illuminating, discussion with my kids.
They felt confident enough to be real, knowing full well I would write this information and share it with the world. It may seem like too much for some parents, but talks like these let me know that my sons can truly be open with me about any subject, no matter how uncomfortable. Like, penis-in-a-vacuum uncomfortable. Ouch.
Before you go, check out our slideshow below:
The stories you care about, delivered daily.
SheKnows is a part of Penske Media Corporation. © 2022 SheMedia, LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Confessions of a rent boy You meet all sorts in this line of work
From magazine issue : 10 September 2016
The busiest time for escorts is Sunday evening, when men have been with their wife and kids all weekend
I am not surprised that Keith Vaz has been caught sleeping with male hookers. I’m one myself and so I know that overweight married Asians are our staple. We often joke that without Indians and-Middle Eastern guys, we’d all be broke. They are always married. I’ve always been sickened by the way they betray their wives, but they aren’t paying me for my judgment.
There are different types of rent boy. Some are very young, slim and smooth. They are called twinks. I am dark, hairy and muscled, which appeals to certain clients who want a ‘real man’. I’ve been escorting for nearly four years, and I’ve had hundreds of different and weird experiences. I see men of all different ages and backgrounds. I meet lawyers, businessmen, all sorts.
I see a few politicians, too — from the House of Lords and the House of Commons. One has a nice car and he collects me, then drives me back to his flat. He has a house outside London but he uses the place in London for dangerous liaisons. (This is common.) The man is married but I don’t think he has much of a relationship. The-politicians think I don’t know who they are, but I’m not stupid. I watch Question Time and the news.
I met one member of the House of Lords, a man who used to be married many years ago. Before he was ennobled he was MP for one of the poshest London constituencies. He told me he was in the closet then. He was married and had a son. Now he is a grand-father and open about his sexuality. I liked him. He wasn’t interested in intercourse. He was more into wrestling. It was a safe-sex habit he picked during the HIV panic of in the 1980s.
Lots of my clients are far less nervous of Aids, and want unprotected sex. Either they don’t realise that HIV is common in London, or they like the thrill. They are crazy. Most escorts don’t oblige. Those who do say yes are either HIV positive or-desperate for the money — often because they are on drugs.
I am gay and Muslim and I was an-asylum seeker in this country. I came here because some of my gay friends were killed back home. My family do not know why I was granted asylum here and they do not know that I am gay. They keep asking me when I will get a wife. I will not get married, even though it would make life easier. It’s wrong to do that to a woman. It annoys me that people still get married because they are too scared to accept who they are. That said, closet-ed men pay well and use lots of escorts, so without them I would be much worse off.
The work is often quite boring. Some-clients bury their heads in a pillow, others are so high on drugs that they don’t really have a clue what is going on. Often I get my phone and start texting friends to make the time go by.
In fact, the whole process of being an escort is rather tedious. You have to sit around a lot waiting for bookings. Each morning I log on to the escort websites I use, then wait. Then at about 11 a.m. I get up and go to the gym. You have to drop everything at short notice when you get a booking, so it’s difficult to make plans.
The busiest time for escorts is Sunday evening. I think it’s because people have been at home with their wife and kids all weekend and it’s driven them mad. Hiring an escort is their way of coping with having spent the rest of the weekend in Ikea.
You can make a lot of money if you work hard. London is full of people with cash to burn. Some regular clients give you presents and bonuses. A friend of mine has just been given £10,000 cash from a man he sees. It’s common for clients to get confused and think of you more as a boyfriend than an escort. They take you on holiday. Those ones can be a bit needy.
I doubt Keith Vaz was that sort. But he did conform to another stereotype: the risk-addicted politician who seemed bent of self-destruction. Strange as it may seem, even immigrant rent boys value British-democracy and the standards expected of MPs who uphold it. I have indefinite leave to remain; I’ll soon be a British national and I hope to go to university. And then settle down in this country — which has saved my life.
There are things in this world that you can never understand until you’ve had a penis inside of your anus. Lucky for us gay/bi men, there are quite a number of us who know exactly how that feels. Here are 15 things only bottoms understand. (And if you wanna know the struggle tops go through, head over here. )
Let’s start with the best part of anal play: prostate stimulation . The attempt to describe the sensation is utterly useless. The feeling is truly ineffable. It’s heavenly. Euphoric. Unlike any other bodily sensation we’ve ever experienced. Thank the gods for gently tucking that almond-size gland 3 inches inside of our behinds.
Bottoms are a dime a dozen. It seems like every gay guy out there is a bottom, and when you think you’ve met someone who’s definitely a top…nope. He too is a bottom. Just a very masculine bottom.
It’s quite the feeling, being unable to walk straight after being pounded. Your gait is off as you
Creamy Solo
Teen Innocent Old
Hd Porn Gagging