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Naughty America

Last Update »   October 24, 2014

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Man Cherishes, Ejaculates On Sports Illustrated...

A citizen journalist from from Doylestown, Pennsylvania, named "Armand" reveres the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue for its iconic status in american culture. Oh, and its profound strokeability.

As an american male, the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue has been a big part of my life.

I just got this year’s issue and I’ve already jerked off four times to it. I’ve had the magazine for less than a day. Already, four loads gone.

That bar Rafaeli is one hot piece of ass. I heard that she’s dating Leo DiCaprio. Then I heard that she isn’t dating him. Well, which is it? Let me just say this: if he broke up with her, he better have a good goddamn reason. Anything less than “She has a penis” is going to set off my gaydar. No straight man breaks up with a woman like that.

This year marks the 12th time I’ve spanked it to the swimsuit issue the same day I received it. Last year, I whacked off six minutes and twelve seconds after picking up the issue at my P.O. box. I went on to jerk off three more times in the next twelve hours.

The year before, I beat off in my car outside a 7-Eleven. Bought the issue and a travel size of Vaseline and worked up a lather until I sprayed knuckle children all over my steering column. That was a good issue. I jerked off a second time in the bathroom at a Krispy Kreme before I even got home.

That’s what the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue means to me: ejaculation. In fact, when I hear those four words, “Sports” “Illustrated” “swimsuit” “issue,” I’m like a Pavlovian dog. I immediately get hard.

If someone played a word association game with me and threw out those four words I’d immediately throw back “self-gratification,” “ecstasy,” “dripping,” and “explosion.”

I’ve heard talk about Sports Illustrated discontinuing the swimsuit issue, which causes me great anxiety. I’ve got all my old issues, nearly 30 years worth, under my bed. I can’t imagine having to recycle through them for the rest of my life. Once you ejaculate on a Christie Brinkley cover, you can’t go back and toss onto it again.

The crust is sacred. It never leaves. It’s a memory.

I’m not finished with this year’s issue. I have to go through it page by page until I’ve gotten the most for my money. Tonight I’ll open up to page 68 and come all over Rafaeli’s face. Then, it’s on to Jessica White, Jarah Mariano, Anne V, Julie Henderson, Lucia Dvorska, and the rest of the girls.

I imagine most american men feel the way I do about the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue.