Tuesday, 29 December 2015

The Felt Sense

I've never felted the roof of a shed before, so I'm not sure I know exactly what it entails, but I think I can have a pretty accurate guess: you attach felt to the roof of a shed. Genius. I've even seen my uncle's shed, which has the soft material stuck there by numerous tacks, so I'd further imagine that they are holding it there. That ought to take, like, a day, at most, right? Even with the nailing and screwing you'd need to do it hold it there?

The guy in the house next door has been doing his for four straight years. Or at least it feels that way. Every now and again we get a volley of bangs and clashes accompanied by the slight incongruity of a man appearing very obviously on the shed roofs. It's either the man next door, or a really shit version of Batman.

Just before Christmas I took to masturbating on my back (as opposed to sitting up on my computer chair), partially because I'm very lazy in the mornings and don't want to move much, but mostly because it's very cold and my bed, despite the BORK'D mattress, is lovely and warm. Even when lying on it naked, it feels warm, and as long as I had enough time to do so, it was the perfect place to masturbate to orgasm in peace, apart from that one time when I realised I didn't have any tissue to hand and had to waddle to the corner to get some.

Some other time, perhaps.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

It took me a while to realise that the penis isn't meant to do that: it isn't a gun, even if it does shoot [*waits for applause*], so that's not the sound it makes (the closest I can get is "shuck", which is also a huge black dog found in East Anglia). I continued going anyway, unperturbed, until I identified the source of the banging and noticed a balding guy in jeans and a grubby T-shirt in full view at - or at least in view of - the far end of the garden.

I noticed him because our room has large French windows and you can see everything. And, as I realised with a thrill of horror, windows generally work both ways and he could see me as well.

A more sensible person may have instantly gotten up from the bed, put some clothes on, draw the curtains, take them back off again and then continue masturbating, or even surrender the wank completely and do it at some other point in the day, preferably when the man next door isn't hammering felt to the top of his shed. What I did, of course, is just get underneath the duvet and continue masturbating, which probably didn't hide what I was doing at all, but at least would have stopped him seeing everything in explicit detail.

At this point I realised that he probably wasn't looking anyway.

But I kept the duvet on just in case.

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