Manual Labor

Ladies and gentlemen, the handjob is back. At least in my twisted universe.

See, for years, I shunned the handjob, thinking, "Hey, I can do this. What I can't do is that other thing, so... can we move on to that straight away?"

But then I hooked up with Tracy G., who administered a handjob that nearly left me deaf, blind and dumb. A truly spectacular display of manual dexterity [the likes of which sweatshops the world over would kill to get on their assembly lines] that incorporated careful attention to the "goodfuckinggodalmighty" area just below the head and also to the balls.

Of course, once a hand slips anywhere near my balls, I get concerned. For that, I can thank Michelle B., who employed a devious tease and denial tactic through which she'd prolong the torment by physically grabbing my boys and pulling on them whenever I neared release. It should be noted that she did this with a motion eerily similar to that guy at the beginning of The Flinstones, who grabs the bird's tail to signal the end of Fred's workday. Only the bird's tail was my sack. And there was nothing cool about that.

Anyway, today, I've got handjobs on the brain, so I invite you to leave your own handjob stories, tips, critiques, etc. in our comments section. Hey, it's all between friends.