CREEMEDIA
It’s a good thing all those warnings turned out to be false—otherwise we’d all be tapping our way through life with a white cane. Everybody jacks off— and anyone who says they don’t is either lying, getting someone to do their handiwork for them, or hormone-dead.
CREEMEDIA
“Good taste is the enemy of creativity. —Pablo Picasso
It’s a good thing all those warnings turned out to be false—otherwise we’d all be tapping our way through life with a white cane. Everybody jacks off— and anyone who says they don’t is either lying, getting someone to do their handiwork for them, or hormone-dead.
Of course, whether you choose to cover-up or fess-up is your business. Whatever your choice, though, you can take solace in the knowledge that, no matter how you play it, you’re not playing it alone. As a result of the AIDS plague and ensuing safe sex campaigns, more and more people are coming out of the bathroom and openly grasping self-abuse as their preferred means of self-expression—thus elevating auto-eroticism from its previous low-rent status as the light beer of sex to its new role as universal common currency on the world markets of carnality.
Keep in mind, however, that what separates the men from the boys isn’t
KISS ME DEADLY