THE REVOLUTION!!!
When I was 16, I had a punching bag. I wouldn't use it very much. I'd just sort of see it when walking to the door and I'd give it a good smack. But every now and then I'd go all out on it. Well... as much as I could. The beam it was suspended from was REALLY high up and the chain was really long. So it would go for really long swings and I couldn't really get the combos going. But it was good because it would be good practice for punching straight by trying to avoid making the bag spin around. But yeah... I didn't use it so much so my hands weren't exactly toughened by it and it would get dirt and dust and stuff on it without me noticing. One time there must have been some sand or something that stuck to it because before I knew it, my knuckles were bleeding. I thought that was so damn hardcore I kept going at it harder and harder until all the skin from my right middle and ring finger knuckles was gone. I wasn't even punching it. I was scraping it. Rubbing. Slowly. Bracing for the pain. Then faster and faster until I couldn't control it. I jumped up on the bag and wrapped my legs around it while biting the top of it and bashing the side with my bloody right hand. The vibrations going through it as I bashed it went directly to my groin and I was feeling arousal and pain at the same time and started rocking on it and thrusting while I kept on punching and screaming.
It was at that moment I think I finally understood what love was. Giving pain. Receiving pain. Giving pleasure. Receiving pleasure. I don't think I've ever felt as strongly for anything in this world as I did for that punching bag that day. After I climaxed I hung on resting my neck against it's chain... stroking it's leather skin... biting that seatbelt material strap... my semen made the red blood on the side glossier.
I was pretty sad when they took it away soon after they found me. But I suppose it's for the better. I think any longer would have spoiled me and any expectations of lovers to come. It's already bad enough I have trouble talking to women.
It was at that moment I think I finally understood what love was. Giving pain. Receiving pain. Giving pleasure. Receiving pleasure. I don't think I've ever felt as strongly for anything in this world as I did for that punching bag that day. After I climaxed I hung on resting my neck against it's chain... stroking it's leather skin... biting that seatbelt material strap... my semen made the red blood on the side glossier.
I was pretty sad when they took it away soon after they found me. But I suppose it's for the better. I think any longer would have spoiled me and any expectations of lovers to come. It's already bad enough I have trouble talking to women.