Now, I’m assuming I’m going to get a lot of people disagreeing with me on this
one. But can I ask, will everyone who really, really loves giving
hand-jobs please raise your hand. Okay, now put them down because you’re
lying. Just a reminder, we’re talking about giving hand jobs here. Receiving them is
fine. It’s the reciprocating part that I’m not fond of…

My personal hate for them has been magnified recently by the fact that my boyfriend thinks they are the number one best thing in the universe. And to be honest, I’m getting sick of being woken up in the mornings by a drooling, sweat-soaked monster croaking, “Rise and shine, baby. Wanna jerk me off?” Are you fucking kidding me? What happened to whispering sweet nothings?

So, in response to this and all of the other horrific hand job episodes I have experienced in my life thus far, I have created a list of the top three reasons why I will never give a hand job again.

1. Realistically, he just wants you to give him head. No
matter how good you are with your hands, you know all he’s really thinking is:
when is this bitch going to stop messing around and just put it in her mouth
already? You know it’s true because without fail, somewhere in the midst of
jerking him off he will inevitably grab your head and slowly start easing it
down toward his groin. He’ll be very sly and delicate about it, as if he’s
trying to trick your tiny female brain into thinking that maybe he isn’t really
doing it at all, but that the real reason your head is slowly making its way
down toward his love-pump is that deep down in your subconscious, you really,
really do want to suck him off.

2. They make your hand smell. Have you ever smelt your hands
after giving a hand job? The stench is blinding. It’s like a mix
of seafood and decaying wood. And then to top if off there’s always that sticky saliva that gets caught in the web of your fingers from when you’ve had to spit on your hand for lubrication.

3. They’re so junior high. How old are we again? Maybe hand
jobs were acceptable when we were, like, 16 and the idea of poking at each
other’s crotches for half an hour still seemed exciting. But surely by now we
can think of something slightly more creative to do. Like fisting for example.

KARLEY SCIORTINO