The Masturbatorium Is Officially Open

After 8 months of living in my old bedroom at the parents' house and a year-and-a-half prior to that sharing a Brooklyn apartment with my ex, I am finally in my own place again, and let me tell you, it kicks ass.

I won't have Internet access from home until next week, Inshallah, so it'll be a few more days before I can start blogging regularly again, but I've already been doing the One-Man Nudist Colony thing, walking around my place naked just because I can, sometimes with a bouncing erection leading the way.

The sliding doors on the bedroom closet are mirrored, and the closet itself is L-shaped, wrapping around one corner of the bedroom. What that means to me, of course, is that I've got 90° of floor-to-ceiling mirrors in that corner, and needless to say I placed my computer desk so that I'll have a fantastic view of this hairy naked man thrusting his thick throbbing erection in and out of his fist as I'm chatting with buddies online -- it's a bator's paradise, dudes.

On the other side of my desk, opposite the mirrors, I've got a Russian-style icon corner set up, with a framed photo of hirsute demigod Steve Kelso sporting a beautiful woody. In Russian Orthodox homes it would be a droopy-eyed Mary or Jesus, and loyal Soviet citizens used to have red-draped portraits of Lenin, but I've got my priorities straight.

There's no furniture in the living room as yet, but I'm already making mental plans to host a circle jerk -- I have this idea of conducting these "masturbation seminars" for men who want to get into j/o more deeply and find out what it really means when I talk about "gooning," for example.