SOCK
In my early years, the hot delinquent next door (with the big uncut dick) taught me to jerk-off directly into a sock so Mom wouldn’t find the evidence. As an adult, I rarely use the sock technique because the fabric is bit too rough for me. Although I recently resorted to shooting into a sock while staying in a Gal Pal’s East Coast guestroom: it had been three days since my last cock-and-release, and it was a fast wank with a massive load. (Sock was washed the next morning.)
T-SHIRT
Sometimes when I’m in a Buddy Booth (shared “window” between two booths allowing you to watch each other) at the ABS (Adult Book Store), I’ll sit sprawled out in the booth chair, facing the glass, with the hem of my T-shirt pulled to my waist, and then let 'er rip, blasting ropes of cum up the length of my T-shirt covered abdomen and chest (this is a particularly good show when wearing a black or otherwise dark colored T-shirt). Walking out of the ABS in a cum-stained T-shirt always leaves me grinning while fellow patrons are looking a little envious. (Laundered weekly.)
PAPER TOWELS
Used only in public venues, and has the drawbacks of being harsh on tender, spent cock heads with a tendency to stick - cum makes a dandy, but sometimes unfortunate, glue. So in a public restroom or an ABS (re the latter, see T-shirt above), I will do my best to aim into the towels held by my free hand. I’m a blaster, so trying to be tidy and contained can be a challenge. But that only increases the tension and consequent explosiveness of my orgasms, followed by a bit of clean up to my surroundings.
HAND TOWELS (Primary Accessory)
Mom is a Sale Shopper with a penchant for wacky, tacky, and unfortunate items, such as holiday-themed hand towels that I would never, ever put out where others could see them. I used to toss the damn things out, but then I realized they’d make swell cum rags at home. Over the years I have shot into/cleaned up with towels festooned with Trick-or-Treating Ghosts, Christmas Caroling Snowmen, and Bunnies rolling Easter Eggs, just to highlight a few. When Mom calls to ask if I’ll be able to use the hand towels she sent, I always reply in the affirmative, but it’s all I can do to keep from giving a sexually-laced, 1980s soul singer response like “Oh-h-h-h, Yea-h-h-h-h-h-h!” (Laundered weekly.)
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