Me: “Just writing about how Basic Instinct fucked me up regarding masturbation habits.”
Her: “Little did the filmmakers know that Sharon Stone’s character would be the archetype for just about fuck-all every single girlfriend you’ve ever had.”
Who wants an embarrassing TMI story? Yeah, I thought so.
So, there I was, 14 years old, bored and looking for something to jerk off to. Seriously, I think that’s what every 14 year old did for fun when they weren’t discussing Battletoads or some such shit. I had just got home from school and I had about 1 hour before anyone else came home from whatever it is they did when I wasn’t around.
The problem with my life at the time is that no one in my family really had any sense of privacy, so it was fairly frequently that I was caught waxing my carrot. The idea that I should lock eyes and finish never occurred to me, though had I, maybe the concept of privacy would have slipped quietly into the family lexicon.
So there I was, enjoying a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese and thinking of different things I could watch to beat my bishop. Eventually I landed on Basic Instinct. Why, Basic Instinct? Because my parents had hidden the only porn in the house very well. They had in fact hidden it so well, that I found Christmas presents before I found the porn.
So, I pulled out Basic Instinct and fast forwarded it (VHS days kids… Because, I jerk it old-school… Back in my day we didn’t have internet porn. FYI, it bothers me to a slight degree that I can legitimately use the phrase “back in my day”…) to the last sex scene. The scene comes on and I start getting shit done. That particular scene I liked to time my climax for the pinnacle of the scene where she throws herself back on the bed. That business having been concluded, I watched the remainder of the scene, dick in hand.
Then I realized that she was reaching for an icepick underneath the bed. My eyes got as wide as they could possibly get.
Then, I just happened to look out the door. A UPS guy stood at the door who was, I would imagine, slightly disgusted about the incongruous image of a young man sitting on a beat up old couch with his dick in his hand looking like he had just figured out the trick to a Rubix cube. (I realize I’m dating myself in this blog post.) He placed the package on the porch and left, shaking his head.
As far as the UPS dude, sorry man. [insert veiled penis joke here]
By the way, Sharon Stone, if you ever read this (you won’t)… I’m not available, but if you’re ever in the NW PA area and are in desperate need of an orgasm… Just to let you know I am published on the subject. Just throwing that out there. Just for shits and grins, here’s a few pictures of ex-girlfriends that I’m pretty sure would shank me post-coitus…
Nah, but seriously could you imagine? Besides, I’m not that much of a dick. It’s pretty much all of them anyway. I figure if an ex doesn’t want to stick a knife in me, I haven’t done my job…