|Spinoff nostalgia: Vol. 1: The Morning Wood Monologue|
|MORNING WOOD, WET DREAMS, AND OTHER STUFF THAT PISSES ME OFF
Heres my beef with Morning Wood...
When I was younger, I had to have my mom orally (by that I mean call out my name) or physically (grab and shake me) wake me up for school. Sometimes I'd have a little chubby going on when my mom would come in my room. You know she has to see that little rise in the covers down south. No matter how many times I'd go to sleep on my side, I would always wake up lying on my back with a 90° flagpole. And my mom would always be there to wake me up. Once I realized that I had a skyscraper and my mom could see it, I rolled over as quickly as possible. But the damage has already been done.
Then I have to sneak to the bathroom with an erect mushroomhead. Sometimes, if I moved too quickly, he'd pop out of the peehole that's sewn into boxers. Oh, that's beautiful. My manlog pops out, right as my dad walks by. And where is the first place he sees me go? To the bathroom. You know what he's thinking, "He's at it again."
So I've actually experimented with ways on sneaking to the bathroom when I have a hard-on.
· Initially, I tried taping my schlong to my leg.
o I used Scotch Tape. The tape broke.
o I used Masking Tape. Once again, the tape broke.
o I used Duct Tape. I had him taped around my leg, which is by the way, covered in hair. It hurt like a bitch when I pulled the tape off.
o I used Electrical Tape. (See the Duct Tape incident)
So tape doesn't work.
· Next, I tried tying my rod to my leg.
o I've tried using kite string, but it takes too long to tie and cuts off the circulation to my knob. Also, it leaves a mark and a nasty rope burn. So that's no good.
o I've tried other various tying devices, but none have worked: rope, regular string, yarn, wire, bathing suit string, a garbage bag tie, and a chain.
All no dice.
· The best method I'd found is also the easiest. It's painful and awkward, yet its effective. Just tuck your toolbox. Push him between your legs and then inch your way to the bathroom. I have a 1-story house so it works for me. If you have to go up/down some stairs, walk pigeon-toed. It works. You'll look like an ass and have tears of pain rolling down your cheek. But it works.
And be sure to watch out for those Hot Wheels and Army Men. Stepping on them barefooted is a bitch.
But before I even made it to the bathroom, I had to avoid the obstacles on my bedroom floor. It's bad enough that stepping on a Hot Wheels barefooted hurts. But sometimes, I'd lose my balance and go tumbling into something, stiff dick first. Oww! Id crush my privates. That hurts more than the indent that damned Hot Wheels left on the bottom of my foot.
So I get to the bathroom, and what's the first thing I want to do? Take a leak. And let me tell you something, pissing with a firm phallus is no picnic. First of all, it's hard (pun intended) to get the pee to come out. Second of all, it hurts when it does. I have to push my dong down so I won't piss on the back of the toilet and the pot of potpourri that my mom puts there. And if that doesnt work, I kneel down and stick my serpent in the toilet bowl to avoid unnecessary yellow plastering. Its a pain in the ass and is too high maintenance for that early in the morning.
I've tried to use rational thought behind Morning Wood. Ok, so he's rock hard and sticking skyward. Obviously Mr. Happy wants me to spank him. My tallywhacker does feel like he could use a good cranking. Overnight, the cotton on my boxers gave him a good polishing, so he's nice and smooth.
So I'm in the bathroom, going at it. Trying to concentrate on a playmate and how I'd like introduce her to my pud. 1 minute passes. No load blowing. 2 minutes pass. No salamander spitting. 3 minutes pass. Still no firing of the rounds. By now, my hand's getting tired. After all, I did just wake up. 5 minutes pass. I slow down to 1 stroke per second and my tool is getting that red rash. You know the one you get when you whack it too rough or too often? That one. I have to double my concentration to keep going. 8 minutes later, after I've lost feeling in my arm and my pecker has a rub burn, I spew my sauce all over. And I do mean all over. By the time I shoot the fountain of youth, I forget to aim. Bam! Back of the toilet. Top of the toilet. In the potpourri. On the floor. On my leg hairs. On my bare feet. And down my hand. So I spend another 5 minutes and half a roll of toilet paper on clean up. And I don't feel relaxed like I usually do after the splooge sprinkler goes off.
So, did I waste my time? Lets see:
· Now my member is sore, has a rash, and whenever he moves around in my pants, it hurts.
· I spent almost 15 minutes in the bathroom, for what should have been a 2 minute (max.) exercise.
· I wasted half a roll of toilet paper that could have been used later, after I've eaten Taco Bell.
· Because of the rash, I can't play pocket pool for up to 3 days. It just hurts too much.
· And I've tainted the potpourri. Actually, I think I improved on the smell. So I won't count this as a draw-back.
No. Not worth it.
Moving right along. And this is where it gets interesting... A little thing you should know about my family. They never knock. Ever. I have to lock the bathroom door every single time Im in there. Even when I take leak. Because somehow, somewhere, someone neglected to teach the rest of my family the value of knocking. And when I wake up in the morning, I'm ususally groggy, with a definite lack of senses. You can guess what happens next. I forget to lock the bathroom door. So when I emptying out the jizzum dragon or when I'm massaging my manmeat, my dad walks in. And you know what hes thinking, Hes at it again.
By the way, you know how you sneak the porno mags to the bathroom? Like tucked under your shirt, down your pants, or hidden in a stack a clothes. Have you ever dropped the magazine? Like, when other people are around. Usually, I put the death grip on it, but sometimes, there's that fucking Hot Wheels again. And let me tell you, you have to pretty quick to drop down and cover it up.
While Im on the subject of ejaculation, I have some beef with wet dreams too.
After the event, I sneak to the bathroom (see above to know how that can be a bitch). Once there, I try and peel off my boxers so I dont get the goo all over my legs. I throw them in the sink and start scrubbing. And I do mean sink, because if I try to clean them using the toilet, I run the risk of clogging it. Im not kidding. Somewhere in my pipelines, the cum sticks to the walls and causes blockage. Especially when I use too much toilet paper, or worse, paper towels. Thats why I recommend the sink. You have that constant water flow to keep the semen separated. But if youre going to use the toilet, flush it often. And dont let the toilet paper build up.
What makes matters worse is that you hardly ever get all of it cleaned off. Thats when the shit hits the fan.
I start wiping with the toilet paper and the paper starts falling apart on my already wet cotton boxers. Those of you that have ever toilet papered a house and seen it after a rainstorm know what Im talking about.
Sometimes I just cant get all of my man slime out. Theres that one piece that says Screw you. Your moms gonna find out about me!
Or this happens. And I hate when this happens. You miss a spot. Probably the wad that hit near the bottom of the boxers.
Several things happen next. But mainly, its an interrogation from one of your parents (the one that actually finds your boxers):
· Your mom goes to wash the clothes and finds your stain. You have to think fast, so you say the first thing that comes to mind.
§ Uh, the dog did it.,
§ Damn lotion!, or
§ Those arent mine!
o But if youre smart, youd dip your boxers completely in water. That way, you can have back-up excuses.
§ They fell in the toilet,
§ I was so tired this morning, that I forgot to take my boxers off when I took a shower, or
§ That damn dog pissed on my dirty clothes. But I scrubbed it off for you.
The last one might get you some pancakes.
· Or if youre creative, just shit in your boxers. That way your mom will hold the boxers at arms length and not see the jizz stain. Youll only have to tell her,
§ Hey! I didnt know it was going to be wet,
§ What can I say? It slipped, or
§ The damn dog did it, not me.
Next scenario: You throw your dirty clothes on the bathroom floor so your parents can clean them. And if youre too cheap to buy a hamper, your dog comes in the bathroom and lies down on the pile of clothes. Guess what? Rover just wallowed in your drizzle draws. If his head finds his way into your boxers, its over. Because you know where Rover goes from there? To your dad to get his scratched. So your dad scratches Rovers head, like he always does. But your dads greeted with a treat. A sticky treat. Your sticky treat. And somehow, he not only knows that its cream, but he knows that its your cream. If your dad is cool like mine, hell just yell at you and tell you to keep the bathroom door locked so the dog cant get in when youre polishing your doorknob. But if your dad is an asshole then its over.
· Hell probably roll up a newspaper or his belt and beat you with it.
· He might lecture you on the birds and the bees. (Id take the whipping over that, any day).
· He might jack off on a plate and rub your face in it.
· Or he could ground you from just about everything.
Sucks to be you.
Wet dreams are the main reason I dont sleep in the nude. Well, besides the fact that I live with my parents. But even if I didnt live with them, I still wouldnt sleep naked, because of wet dreams. Because you know what would happen if I slept in the nude? Soggy sheets. Do you know how embarrassing it is take your sticky liquid stained sheets to the Laundromat, where other people (some you probably know) can laugh and smirk behind your back at what they think is an extracurricular activity of yours. Not that it isnt, but its just embarrassing. So you go to that run down Laundromat. The one thats frequented by trash, at 3 in the morning, just so you can wash your sour milk stained sheets. Id rather wash them in the pool after dark. At least the pool has bleach in it, so why wouldnt that work?
So you have to sleep with clothes on.
What about you poor people that require your parents to do the laundry? They only do it once a week, and you only have one pair of PJs to last seven days.
Short scenario: Its Wednesday, two days after laundry day. And you wake up with liquid creamsand in your PJs. Youre screwed for the rest of the week.
Sometimes, Ill wake up late and sticky from a wet dream. And its a school day. But I dont have time to clean that shit now. Im already running late. And I cant miss the bus again! So I take off my boxers, throw them down on my bedroom floor, and get ready for school. Plus its Friday, so Im spending the night at a friends house. Im not coming home after school. Im proceeding immediately to his house. Then I spend most of Saturday at his house and various other places. Needless to say, that I dont get home until late Saturday night. But Im tired and go to bed right away. Now its church Sunday. And after church, the family goes out to eat. Then we go to a football game. And we dont get home until late that evening. And I havent done my homework, so I have to do that. Then I go to bed, get up the next morning and go school. I get home from school and see the boxers lying on my floor. The same unclean boxers from Friday. But its been four days. Just long enough for my special sauce to harden. Exactly how do you explain that to your parents?
Ive tried different things to prevent the overnight vomiting viper:
· I tried sleeping with a condom on. But that didnt work. My unit shriveled early in the morning and the condom fell off him.
· Ive tried putting a sock over my wong. Twice.
o The first time it just fell off when I rolled over.
o The second time, I put a rubber band around the end so it wouldnt fall off. It actually worked. Unfortunately, I cut off the circulation to my penis. When I woke up, he was whiter than man juice. To test the numbness, I dropped War and Peace on him and I didnt feel a thing.
· Ive tried taping some tissue around my lizard to catch the white marinara. It ended up leaking through and sticking to my boxers. Not only did I have to clean up the love mayonnaise, but I also had tissue fragments to clean up.
· Ive tried squeezing my wang to the point where he wouldnt cum. And different things happened:
o Sometimes Im too tired and accidentally let go, resulting in an eruption.
o One time I forgot to let go and slub-a-dug swelled up to the size of a small apple. Try concealing that!
o Other things that have happened:
§ A few times, I just went with it and stroked while my wiener plastered his hot globs all over the covers.
§ Once, I tried to cup my hand over the nub. But it backfired and splattered all over my hand, my cock and balls, my pubes, and my lower abs.
§ And on one occasion& it was a hot summer day, so I wasnt sleeping with any covers on. I was sleeping on my side and I was at the end of a dream: I was going at it with some nameless girl (much like a one-night stand, no names are needed) when I started to wake up. Quickly, I realized that I was going to have a wet dream. So both hands went down my boxers to block as much cottage cheese as possible. Knowing my luck, my staff was poking through that pre-sewn in hole. I hate that fucker. (The hole. Not my beast). But it was too late. I was grabbing the base of my spear, when he fired off his semi-automatic sprinkler& all over the bed, the floor, the carpet, that fucking Hot Wheels that I always step on, my shoes, my backpack, a few cds, two video games, my homework thats due today, and the dog. Damn.
Sure, I could just throw out my boxers every time I had a wet dream. But lets face it. I hate shopping. I dont have enough money to constantly be buying new underwear. And I have favorite pairs of boxers.
Oh yeah. I almost forgot. When I was younger, I didn't wear boxers, I wore briefs. But I got sick and tired of my woody poking through the top of my briefs. There's nothing worse than my Morning Wood coming out for some fresh air. He doesn't like to go back down either. I think the elastic band caresses the shaft, stimulating him.
I did have a few pairs of briefs that were slightly larger than the rest. With them, my hammer would get hard, catch the underedge of the elastic band, pushing my briefs outward for easy access. No thank you. I'm not that lazy.
I take back what said before. About nothing being worse than a turtle head poking out (referring to my peter and his fresh air escapades). Take this scenario for example&Youre in gym class with about 40 other students. Youre wearing sweat pants and those small briefs that your ding-a-ling pokes through the top of whenever he gets a boner. And guess what? Youve got a boner. And while you have that tall redwood tree, someone droops you. Were talking, pants down to ankles here. No large shirt to hide your manhood. Just you. Your briefs. Your cockhead. And about 40 other students pointing and laughing. Congratulations. Youve just earned the nickname Peckerhead for the rest of your young school days.
PMS for guys. Penis Muscle Stiffy.
Because it won't go down.
|I was lmao at all the named for semen and
o I've tried other various tying devices, but none have worked: rope, regular string, yarn, wire, bathing suit string, a garbage bag tie, and a chain.