| The Wanker
Posted: 11/2/2009 7:19:52 AM | (I'm not much of a writer but enjoy penning adult comedy and social satire short stories. Let me know what you think)
The Wanker...
Graham finally realized he had a problem when his hand stopped functioning completely. Three carpal tunnel surgeries and a truck load of acupuncture had done little but leave a hole in his bank account.
Through counseling Graham was given a book about friendship building, a referral to see a shrink and put in touch with a support group for chronic masturbators.
Although this struck Graham as odd there seemed to be a strange underlying theme consistent with his current situation. Mail order pornography catalogues were an everyday occurrence in his letterbox, adult stores had sprung up all over his neighborhood and his email account was flooded with cheap Viagra.
“You have to stop wanking” the nurse advised Graham during the pre examination physical before his first interview with the psychologist.
“But I don’t do it that often” replied Graham, who in all honesty could only remember a few odd occasions when he had given it a good spanking.
“No” said the nurse, “I mean right now”. “I can’t perform a physical examination with you pulling yourself off”.
Graham looked down.
At first he saw nothing unusual or indeed out of the ordinary. His black brogues were buffed and highly polished as always. His grey slacks were neatly pressed and cuffed at the ankle allowing them to sit snuggly on the heel when standing up. His hand was on his penis, as it always was, gently stroking it as if giving it the reassurance it needed in this difficult situation.
“What the hell are you talking about”? Cried Graham.
The nurse, showing years of experience in this arena and without the slightest hint of judgment, silently presented Graham with a mirror.
The tiled floor was cold against the left side of his face when as he gradually regained consciousness.
Sitting in his sky blue Ford Prefect, hanging on to the steering wheel as if for dear life, Graham finally realized he had a problem. He was a compulsive monkey spanker.
At home that evening Graham began to monitor himself to see just how bad his condition was. As per his psychologists instructions he took a pair of plain white pants and drew a circle where is groin would be when worn, allowing him to record when his hand was in the vicinity. It struck Graham dumb when he tallied his figures at the end of the first week. He was literally stroking it 24/7.
Graham looked down forlornly at his limp, placid penis.
“I wish you would just go away”, he thought to himself.
“Who, me…. What did I do” replied a strange voice in Graham’s head.
Graham sat stunned for a few minutes.
“What the f%ck”, he finally mumbled.
“What the f%ck”… “You want to get rid of me and all you can say is what the f%ck”? “You’re taking the piss mate”.
Graham mustered the courage to look down.
His penis looked up at him.
Graham knew he needed help.
Chronic Masturbators Anonymous or ‘CMA’ as it was affectionately termed was a support group for those suffering from similar ailments. Shunned by society as a dirty little secret it was a self funded body as no public or private fundraisers would touch it with a 10 foot pole. As such, a five pound admission fee was charged on entrance to pay for the venue and post meeting tea and biscuits. Graham was hesitant at first to part with his hard earned cash just to sit in a hall with a bunch of wankers.
“What the hell am I doing here” he thought.
“Does yours talk to you” said a tall, relatively attractive dark haired woman that Graham, as was usually the case, hadn’t noticed standing next to him.
At first he was a little taken back, but the look upon her face was neither mocking nor judgmental, it was a look of concern tinged with moral support. Graham nodded feebly.
“You’ve come to the right place” she said with a knowing smile. “I’m Mary, Mary Stewart”… “And you are”? she gestured.
“Err, uhm, I’m Graham, he replied.
“Well Graham, you’ve taken the first step” she said politely. “I’ve been hands free for 2 years now and I know you can do it to”. She held her hands up as if showing Graham that they were indeed back in her control.
And like a whirlwind, she was gone, having made her way past the cashier and into the depths of the community hall. A small bell tinkled from within indicating that the meeting was about to begin. Graham quickly pulled out a fiver, paid his dues and strode through the great wooden doors.
What struck Graham most was the variety. There were people of all ages, races, genders, ranging from late teens to late in life. Never would Graham have realized that a room full of tossers could be so diverse if he had not seen it with his own eyes. The crowd began to hush there many conversations as Mary took the podium and smiled at them all.
“Good evening and welcome” she said.
That was all Graham needed. He knew he had found something that would change his life for the better.
Over the next few weeks Graham’s confidence grew. The voice of his penis began to diminish and his hands were slowly coming back into his control. As his confidence grew, so did is involvement in the small community that was CMA. For the first time in his life Graham had friends he could call and hang out with. It took him several weeks of meetings but finally he took the podium.
“I’m Graham….. And I’m a wanker” | |
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