Forward. Backward. Forward again. Backward yet again. Towards the tip slowly. There was friction of skin against skin, a little lubrication added for smoother gliding. Joe was at it again, finding solace in his hands as his member hardened, his eyes fixed on the screen of his smartphone as he went through scene after scene of “Racially Motivated”, a new adult movie clip which he had recently downloaded.
Joe Maduka, fast-rising civil engineer in his late twenties, was a man to whom the art of self-juicing was by no means strange. For him, it was more of a lifestyle, and even seemed like it was part of his diet. He fondled his organ in the morning before breakfast, he did same in the office restroom during lunch break, and he did not forget to pat the little guy before going to bed, an adult magazine usually close at hand to facilitate the process.
Joe usually found it more comfortable to pleasure himself at home, thanks to his treasured jar of Jergens lotion. He had tried out other brands, but had eventually settled for Jergens. According to him, Jergens reacted well with his skin, aided lubrication and effectively balanced the friction whenever he wanted to set hand to purpose. Joe also had his preferred taste when it came to bars of soap. He did not like medicated brands of soap; they had a way of inflaming his skin down there. He often went for toilet soaps, as he found them to be a lot milder.
Joe had not always loved his hands so much. He had experienced a normal childhood, laden with all that wide-eyed innocence, until age twelve when his parents acquired the services of Blessing as a housemaid. Blessing, of Ikwerre stock, would sneak in adult clips and slot them into the old video cassette whenever Joe’s parents were away from home. She would make Joe sit with her and watch, allowing him play with her breasts, but usually stopped short of raising her wrapper to let ‘little Joe’ in. She would feel sorry for Joe as his member took a hard stance in vain, and in time she set out to teach Joe how to ease the feeling.
He would always remember that fateful Wednesday afternoon, returning home from a routine day as a J.S.S. 2 Student. Blessing had prepared lunch, and then slotted in an all-Caucasian adult movie. She saw ‘little Joe’ take a hard stance like never before, and set out to work. She ushered him into the bathroom, issuing some directions to the curious boy. Joe was confused at first, but once he began, moving forward and backward, he exclaimed, “what kind of sorcery is this?” It felt so good, Joe didn’t have to worry about trying to raise Blessing’s wrapper anymore.
The new skill soon landed him in trouble however. One day Mrs. Maduka had barged into Joe’s room, spotting him with a magazine as he put his hand to use. Screams of “what has possessed my son?” rent the air, and in a matter of minutes, a belt was getting familiar with Joe’s back. He had revealed that Blessing had done the educating, and his parents did not have to think too much before relieving Blessing of her duties, their cries of “witch, whore” rhyming with slaps to her face and flinging of her bags. The demon was gone, but the damage had been done.
Joe indulged in his habit with a lot more discretion, and by the time he departed for the university, he had become stuck on it. He spent longer hours in the bathroom, he purchased bars of soap three times more than other fellow males, and his jar of lotion shortened more rapidly than most. He equally had to lay his bed with multiple bedsheets, so as to conceal the holes which he usually created in the middle of his mattresses. His mobile data went in for it too, as nearly one-thirds of his monthly internet subscription was dedicated to downloading adult movies of all categories, from Ebony Black to Interracial to Milf to Asian.
There was an interesting cycle to Joe’s addiction. He could stumble on the arousing material, then feel a bulge in his trousers, then set to work until he let out the emission, eyes shut and mouth open whenever he got to that point. It often felt good while it lasted, but once he spewed out, he would come to his senses, feeling all contrite, and sometimes even breaking down in tears. He had undergone many sessions of fasting and prayer, and on multiple occasions visited the monastery in Enugu for personal retreats, but once the spiritual exercise was over, he would fall back to the old habit.
He remembered how his love for self-juicing made him feel so dirty during his university days. He remembered how he would feel tortured whenever one of those spiritually overzealous students showed up in the lecture halls at night to preach, hammering on the very topic, pushing him to a sense of remorse and repentance which would last for about a week. Things however became different sometime in 2011 when a very popular clergyman, in one of his telecasts, said certain things which seemed to endorse the act, specifically stating that it was not a sin!
Joe had become unsure of what to believe anymore. The words of that clergyman had caused ruptures in his mind. He had always thought he was being haunted by a demon, until he got access to the telecast. The guilt was not so much anymore, and as if to buttress the point, he came across an editorial which pointed to the fact that certain Christian denominations, particularly few churches in Scandinavian Europe, prescribed self-juicing as a positive expression of sexuality. After all, it was a better alternative to other immoral acts, and then again, the Bible did not expressly speak against it.
He had gone researching, meditating, soul-searching. The conflict of views was intense. A certain Christian sect saw the act as a precursor to homosexuality. Science however seemed to take his side, at least to an extent. He had come across studies which showed that men who self-serviced were less likely to develop prostate cancer, and also helped to combat early spewing of phlegm. There were also reports which cited the habit as one way of relieving stress and keeping the regulatory systems in good shape….but then again, he had seen random facts on social media linking self-juicing to the gradual shrinking of the organ. Who was right, and who was wrong?
A lot ran through Joe’s mind as he stroked that evening. In his heart of hearts, Joe believed he would find answers one day, that the addiction would probably wear off, that he would in due time no longer have to worry about whether he was sinning or not. He also knew that after this session he would feel guilty again, beg God for forgiveness and deliverance again, and go on some more self-justifying research. But he was only human, and he could not just put a stop to this pleasurable feeling midway through. He applied some more of the Jergens lotion to his hands, concentrating on the tip of his member as the movie reached a crescendo.