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The Masturbatorium

Edited by Jeremy J. Watson

This was told to me by Paul, an older friend. With his permission, I recorded it on my iPhone, then typed it up, so you can read it. I’ve changed specific names and locations, and cleaned up the English a bit. It’s entirely true, by the way. I know, because I’ve been to his ‘club.’ My friend is delighted that I was willing to make his story public.

My beloved wife died way too young five years ago. I didn’t want to remarry. That’s just too much trouble in my experience. I’ve never really enjoyed being a monogamous guy, so it was difficult during our marriage. I’m also not so much of a sexual guy as you might think. Oh, I do love my orgasms, but not so much in the standard, fucking, sort of way.

At my age, you start caring less about what people think of you, and start realizing that if you don’t take certain actions, you’ll miss out. If you want to go to Europe, go to Europe! If you want to try square dancing, do it! Does it matter what your children say as long as you’re not adversely affecting them? Does it matter what members of your church think, if you’re hurting no one? What does matter is that you act with integrity, nothing else.

It took me a year to recover from Alice’s sudden death. Then, at the insistence of my daughter, I tried dating a few women. The ones younger than me were, in my opinion, just silly. The ones my age were too set in their ways.

One drank too much, another told tall tales, yet another seemed to be a hypochondriac.

To make a long story short, after making my best effort to get close to five different women, I was done trying.

One day I was looking at Casual Encounter ads on Craigslist, I was looking in the W4M category – women looking for men. I knew that was going to be fruitless, but just in case, the idea, or what you might call the fantasy of it, was intriguing.

The idea that I might get to have sex with a woman, but with no strings attached, seemed good to me. It was not different than my teen years, thirty years ago. Back then, too, I would have been happy to find a woman who didn’t expect a whole relationship just in order to get sexual. I know that’s counter to traditional thinking, but that’s what I wanted back then. Truth be told, that’s what I was wanting now, too.

I found a few women that seemed promising. One by one, they all flaked out after a flurry of emails when it became real. When we decided to actually meet up, suddenly they’d quit writing, or have a change of heart.

Just about giving up, one last woman popped up who really did seem like she might be right. She was my age. She was not particularly heavyset, and judging by her email she was intelligent and had a sense of humor.

In our email conversations, it came out that she was feeling just like me. Recently widowed, she didn’t want anything complex. She just wanted sex, and was happy to say so.

Too good to be true, right? Well, I invited her to dinner, expecting she’d be another drunk, too histrionic, a poverty case, or something undesirable. I was almost holding my breath when I met her in the restaurant. She was quite nice looking. Better than her picture. In the ad, she had posted a cheesy selfie wearing bra, panties, and a garter belt with the straps hanging loose. It made her look wide around the middle, which I would have been OK with. It turns out she wasn’t fat at all. Her hair was gray, but then, so was mine. She had sparkly blue eyes which did something to me. I immediately found her attractive.

We ate, and we talked. Despite my intentions not to bring up my ex-wife, I found myself going on and on about her. Liza kept bringing up her ex-husband, Lenny, so our score was about equal. I enjoyed hearing about the man. He seemed like quite a nice and successful guy. So, she wasn’t going to be trying to get money off of me.

I’m sensitive to that, because having made a small fortune through consumer software early in my life, I had to learn the hard way that most of my ‘friends’ are only trying to sell me something.

After dinner, I was having trouble bringing up an invitation to come to my place and get sexual. I mean, on a first date, especially if you’ve been out of practice, how do you say, “So, wanna fuck?”

While I was trying to think of an elegant way to bring that up, she asked me whether I found myself masturbating more since Alice died.

I’m sure my face turned red! That was just so direct. Oh, and the worst part is she asked that right in the restaurant with diners nearby.

Trying my best not to be flustered, I quietly said, “Let’s go on a walk.”

Liza was agreeable, and once out of earshot, I said, “Yes, I have been masturbating more after she died.”

Then I volunteered more information than perhaps I should have, “Like a teenager, I’ve been doing it once or twice a day.” Now, why did I add that?

Liza came back with, “Yes, that’s what’s been happening with me, also.”

I was relieved that we were on the same page.

She went on, “It’s not the same, though, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, to have someone not only in a sexual way, but someone you can share with, someone you can talk with, much like we’re doing right now, but someone you know really well and trust, well, that’s much better, don’t you think?”

“That almost sounds like marriage!”

She laughed. “And that’s what we’re trying to avoid, isn’t it?”

I laughed. “I guess so.”

Now, I was back to trying to figure out how to invite her to my place for some honest-to-goodness sex. I was starting to get horny, which I took as a good sign. It turns out I didn’t have to invite her.

“We were talking about masturbation…”


“Well, I’m more of a fan of masturbation than intercourse.”

Oh, my ship sunk, or so I thought.

“I mean, I like mutual masturbation.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Why don’t you come over to my place, and I’ll show you?” she asked.

“It’s refreshing to meet a woman who is clear on what she wants,” and I meant that will all my heart.

Twenty minutes later, we were at her apartment. It was a bit larger than typical, and housed a cream colored Berber carpet and a baby grand piano.

“Do you play?”

“When I was a kid, I wanted to be a concert pianist. Then something came over me, and I switched to roadhouse boogie.”

As she said that, she sat down at her piano and played some lovely, something. I don’t know what it was, but it was very lively and I liked it.

After a few minutes, she stopped, and said, “I supported myself with music, as a piano teacher, until Lenny came along.”

Still sitting at the bench, with her back turned to me, she took off her sweater. Then she started unbuttoning her blouse, and took that off. I saw her reach around her back, unfasten her bra, and that too, came off.

Liza then slowly turned around, and said, “You like?”

I felt a stirring in my pants, so I could truly say “Yes, very much.”

Her skin was slightly freckled down to the top of her boobs. From there, they became milky white, with large, dark nipples. They were maybe not quite as full as they had once been, and perhaps they hung a bit lower, but they were just fine in my eyes. I felt a desire to reach out and touch them.

Instead, I whipped off my shirt, showing her my white hair-covered chest, and said “You like?”

She laughed. Then she got up and started down a hallway, beckoning me to follow. We entered her bedroom, which had a king size bed.

Without thinking, I said, “You’ve been sleeping in that all alone since Lenny?”


“What a shame.”

“I know. Paul, have we been missing out? I think we should have done this months ago. You know, get together through Craigslist.”

“Let’s not think about what might have been.”

“Agreed. Instead, lets see what happens next!”

We sat side by side on the edge of her bed. Kissing seemed like the right thing to do. Soon we were hugging close and French kissing. She seemed different to me. For a second I compared her to Alice, then put that out of my mind. I found kissing Liza felt rather natural, and nice.

I don’t recall the details, but soon all our clothes were strewn on her floor, and we were reclined on the bed, hugging close. My erection was solid, something I hadn’t had outside of masturbating for way too long. I liked that she shaved her crotch area. Actually, it didn’t seem shaved. I think she used laser or dipilated or something, because it was smooth and young looking.

In fact, her whole body was smooth and young looking. Something younger people don’t realize is that while an older person’s face and hands show age, the parts that are not usually exposed to the sun stay nice and young. Her ass was well toned, which I particularly like.

I guess my ass is nice too, probably because I like bike riding, tennis, and pickleball. I’m fairly athletic, and it shows. I keep my white hair and beard closely trimmed, so I’m not too bad looking. Liza seemed impressed, anyway.

She turned slightly, taking my hard penis gently in one hand. “Hmm, nice! I haven’t held one of these in quite a while,” she said.

“Hold it as long as you want.”

“Oh, thank you. I will!”

She instinctively started moving her hand up and down. “It’s circumcised. I like that.”

“It probably made me angry as a baby, but I’m over it.”

She laughed.

“Woah, there,” I practically yelled. I was getting close to orgasming already.

She understood and let go. She then started in on my balls. In all my life, no one had done what she was doing. Liza was very lightly massaging my testicles within my scrotum. It felt wonderful. Not orgasmic, for which I was thankful, but nice in its own right. She started massaging more and more firmly, pressing on both testicles, one in each hand, between her thumbs and first two fingers. She was wiggling them back and forth slightly. My penis was straining at its hinges, getting ready to erupt again.

I had to ask her to stop for a minute, then I wanted her to resume just as much.

She did, with ever increasing pressure.

“Let me know when it becomes too much.”

Oh, a challenge, now that’s my language.

She kept squeezing harder. It was becoming difficult to take, yet still pleasurable. Finally, it was starting to hurt, so I told her to let off a little.

That’s exactly what she did. She let off just a little, expertly continuing to massage my balls at the point just below which they’d hurt. I was getting ready to ejaculate again, and so asked her to stop.

She teased me by going on for about five more seconds. That was close to being a mistake, but it worked out.

I decided that while I was calming down, it was time to attend to Liza. Knowing that Alice loved massages, I started in on a backrub for Liza. Having her lay on her belly, I worked on her shoulders, her neck, the back of her head, and the top of her head. She seemed to enjoy it.

She found some massage oil in her nightstand drawer, and I continued the massage, using that, and realizing she probably used that oil to masturbate. I massaged her shoulders, upper arms, lower arms, and then her hands. She very much liked the hand massage, and let me know.

Turning around on the bed, I then did her feet, ankles, calves, and the back of her thighs. I was wondering whether it would be appropriate to touch her ass. Then I realized, this is the woman who brought me to the point just short of orgasm three times already. She held my totally erect cock in her hands. And my balls too. Of course I should touch her ass.

I massaged her ass, kneading the glutes good and firmly. In the process, her buttocks opened up momentarily a few times, and I saw her asshole. I have a weakness for assholes and hers was one of the best I had ever seen. It was dark, much darker than the rest of her skin, small, and puckered with radial lines running out about an inch in all directions.

Thinking she might like it, and not being able to resist, I repositioned her feet in such a way that her anus was better exposed. Using a liberal amount of oil, I just touched my finger to the very top of her butt crack, and slowly, and very lightly moved down toward her anus. Finally reaching that, I continued on past, to the point between anus and vagina. I repeated that stroke slowly and lightly several times.

Her response? “Mmm, nice!”

Feeling it was the right thing to do, I was now pressing ever so slightly into the hole on each stroke. In a moment, I stopped stroking, and just placed my forefinger against her asshole itself, leaving it there, unmoving for a moment. She shivered in delight. Ever so slowly, I started pressing inward, with a slight twisting motion. Soon, I was in to the first knuckle.

“Alright?” I asked.

“Very alright!”

She repositioned herself so her ass was even more available to me, and wiggled against my finger, indicating she wanted more. I eventually got it all the way in. Noticing that she was so fine with that, I slowly withdrew that finger, then went back in with two fingers. Once they were all the way in, I curled them forward, pressing against her A-spot.

“Woah, Paul! That’s just too good, but I don’t want to orgasm yet.”

I was thinking it was time to fuck, but there was a problem. I hadn’t brought any protection. Knowing how straight-forward Liza seemed to be, I figured it would be OK to ask her.

“Do you have any protection?”

“Paul, you told me earlier that you were married for 22 years, right?”


“Did you have any extramarital affairs?”

“No, never.”

“Neither did I. And, I’m too old to get pregnant.”


We jumbled around on the bed a bit until I was laying on top of her. I was all set to enter, except for one thing. My penis had gone soft. Now, you’d think it would be as hard as a rock when getting ready to fuck a desirable woman, but I’ve always been like that. The first time, I get performance anxiety.

She said, “Come here.”

She turned around on the bed, and put my penis in her mouth. It turned out that she’s an expert with blowjobs, and got me hard in about sixty seconds.

Turning around again, with me back on top, I entered her easily. Well, sort of. I had to put some massage oil on, because she wasn’t particularly flowing with juice. She admitted that she wasn’t like these Asian chicks that have so much pussy juice that they wet the bedsheets.

So, I popped into her, and we started doing the thing, As I was getting close, I noticed she had a way to go yet, so I suggested we break, and shift positions.

We went with her on top for a while, but she was still a ways off. It was time for my secret weapon. I learned it with Alice and it almost always worked.

I had Liza get on the bed on all fours. On her hands and knees. She was like “What?”

“Trust me.”

I got behind her and entered her from behind, keeping the bottle of oil within reach. Once we got going, I put some oil on my finger, and pressed it into her ass again. That did the trick! We managed a nearly simultaneous orgasm.

We collapsed in an exhausted heap on her bed and fell asleep. Around midnight I woke and started getting ready to head home. Sleepily, she said she’d prefer that I stay. I was honored.

We saw each other again two days later. I had been thinking about her comments about mutual masturbation being better, or almost better – I forgot her exact words – than intercourse, and was building up a healthy curiosity about that.

We went out to dinner again, and this time we went to my house. She was impressed. I guess most people don’t get to see eighteen-room houses with a built-in swimming pool.

We started talking earnestly about sex. I really liked that. It felt like an especially nice freedom. This ease of talking about sex may have been because as one ages, one can become more honest about many things. Or, maybe it was just the way Liza is, that she is comfortable talking about sex. Alice never really was.

I brought up the business of masturbation being better than fucking. She wanted to demonstrate. I was all for that.

We played a game of strip blackjack in my bedroom, just for fun. I lost. The rule was that when one loses all clothing, on the next round, the still-clothed person gets to do whatever he or she wants to the naked one. I was doubtful, but realized Liza would never hurt me or do something against my wishes.

I lost again. She told me to lay on the bed, face up.

I complied. My penis was soft. She went into the bathroom, and came out with a single sheet of toilet paper. I wondered what she was planning. It didn’t take long to find out.

Holding that sheet by a corner, she dangled the other corner over my dick. At first, she waved it back and forth a half-inch above my dick. Watching her action, the anticipation was killing me. She ever so slowly lowered the toilet paper until the bottom corner was just touching the hairs on my scrotum.

What an interesting feeling! It kind of tickled, but was much nicer. My scrotum involuntarily shrank up a bit, then relaxed. After a few seconds, she did it again. My penis was hardening nicely. She stroked that sheet over my scrotum several more times, before running it up along the base of my penis. My dick jumped a half-inch. She did it again, and my penis jumped again.

In time, she worked up to stroking that sheet over the frenulum area of my penis, that part that’s a little fold of skin just below the glans. Oh my god, that was amazing. My penis jumped every time. In itself, this treatment wasn’t orgasmic, but it was certainly pleasant.

After carrying on like that for a while, she put down the sheet of toilet paper, and put a drip of massage oil on her fingertip. She then swirled it ever so lightly around my peehole. My gosh, this woman was an expert!

Finally, she started stroking me up and down, instructing me to let her know when I was getting close to ejaculating. I kind of knew she was going to do some edging, and I was all for it.

She did bring me to the brink of orgasm several times, and finally I went over the edge, with an ejaculation so strong some of it hit my chin. I was surprised. I hadn’t ejaculated that hard since I was in my twenties.

Now it was her turn. I felt inadequate in the technique department, but thought I might as well go ahead and experiment.

I had her lay face up on the bed, and instead of going right to her vagina, I started on those delicious nipples of hers, stroking a single massage oil covered finger from each hand around her dark areolae. After a while, I lightly drew my fingers directly over her very hardened nipples, one forefinger on each nipple.

After that, I lightly massaged her breasts. She didn’t get as much out of that, so then I moved on to the main attraction.

Starting with the very lightest touch I could imagine, I stroked her inner labia, eventually getting more involved in actually handling them. Covered in massage oil as I was, it was difficult to pull her labia out, but I was able to pull and separate them a little with my fingers slipping off from time to time.

Liza’s very anatomy made that easier. She’s one of those girls with large inner labia that stick partially out. You probably know that some women show nothing but a slit when they stand in front of you. Their inner labia are small, and inside. Others have larger ones that hang out. She was of the latter group. They were also tantalizingly darkly pigmented, which I found particularly attractive.

Liza probably thought my next move would be to stroke her clit, but I had a better idea. I started by placing a single finger inside her vagina, then two. My palm was upturned, so when I curled the fingers forward, they touched her G-spot. I just kept rubbing for a while, and she started struggling to maintain her composure. She was shivering all over, and arching her back. Suddenly, she shouted, much louder than I would have expected, “Oh, fuck!” delivering a crashing orgasm that lasted a full minute.

After letting her calm down, I asked if she wanted more. I knew that some women can have multiple orgasms, and some, no so much.

On this ocasion, at least, she was done.

Life went on, and Liza and I became close. Very close. Initially, we had agreed that we were to be friends with benefits only. We seemed to have passed that stage early on.

On subsequent occasions, we fooled around with other techniques. That’s one of the things I really liked about her. She liked experiments, unlike Alice, who I must admit, had been a stick in the mud, by comparison. At the time, I thought sex with Alice had been good. Oh, what I had been missing out on!

Liza would do things to me like lift and hold my penis by the frenulum. She’d pinch it between her thumb and forefinger, and just pull up for a while. I had no idea that would feel like anything. In fact, it is so good one can ejaculate, just from being held like that for a while.

As if that wasn’t good enough, she had another trick in which she’d just pull what was left of my foreskin down as far as it would go and hold it like that. It kind of hurt a bit, but felt so good overall that I’d sometimes cum from that.

She wanted me to do things like stick things in her urethra. I had no idea women would like that. Well, she didn’t care for a Q-tip when we tried that. She said it stung the next day when she peed. But ballpoint pens, she loved! One time, we took the guts out of a Bic pen, and I carefully pressed that a couple of inches into her. Suddenly, urine gushed out. She said the feeling of having to pee when I pressed it in was remarkable.

Some experiments didn’t work as well as others. For instance, one time we decided it would be fun if I could cum into her urethra. She held her vagina open, I stroked myself, pushed my dick hard against her peehole while I ejaculated. All it did was spill out around the opening. It was still a fun experiment.

We even tried some more intense things. She wanted to be vaginally and anally fisted. We didn’t manage either. Or I should say, we haven’t managed it yet. She likes trying, and one of these days, I might actually make it all the way in. She tried fisting me, too, but only got as far as four fingers. Interestingly, once you get past two, your anus no langer says ‘ouch’ and craves more and more cramming. Who knew?

One of my favorites is something she read about called “glans blame” in Japan, otherwise known as “apple polishing,” or “rosy palm” in the United States. The idea is a man is tied down so he can’t get away, and his partner starts rubbing the tip of his erect dick with the palm of a hand. This is super-intense, causing the man to squirm all over the place with a most unbearable tickle-like sensation. He has to be held down, or be very self-disciplined, or he’ll wiggle out from under it.

Strangely, it is more intense with oil than without.

In time, the feeling transmutes to something like a ‘gotta-pee’ combined with ‘gonna-cum’ feeling, but neither happens. The man is just in a delicious, ongoing pre-ejaculatory state for minutes or longer.

She did it to me, and the first time, I backed out right away. A week later, she did it again, and although it was very difficult, I stuck it out until it transmuted. After that, I just loved it.

On that occasion, we followed it with what we called the ‘tantric’ experience. What we did is pretty far removed from the Indian concept of tantra. In our version, you simply don’t cum. You enjoy a session that doesn’t end in ejaculation, or in the case of women, it’s without orgasm. You leave, charged up and happy. Well, sometimes it is sort of frustrating not to cum, but you do stay charged up. That part is rather amazing. It seems you have more energy the rest of the day, things smell better, colors are brighter, and you even seem more intelligent. Go figure! She and I have played with the tantric idea a lot.

One day, Liza and I were talking about our experiences, and thought it was too bad the whole world didn’t know what we knew. The discussion evolved over days and somehow the idea came to us that we should open a ‘masturbatorium.’

We certainly didn’t need the money, but opening a commercial venue seemed to be right for this idea. We started talking about it as if it was something we were really going to do.

As if! I mean, who could really be that bold? It would be hugely controversial, right?

One afternoon, we were talking about it with my son. He’s gotten used to frank sexual talk from me and Liza, and seems approving. He really likes Liza, and I’m glad. Currently living almost a hundred miles away, and also working in the software field, he doesn’t visit often, but when he does, he brightens in Liza’s company.

We told him about our thoughts on the masturbatorium, and he cheered us on, telling us that he’d gladly be a customer of such a place.

Over another month or two, Liza and I kept coming back to the idea. We started working out details. Like, it would be for masturbatory activities only. Since it was the general public we were talking about, we couldn’t allow any penetration of anything other than fingers into other people’s bodies. Mutual masturbation would be OK. In fact, that would be the focus. We’d offer courses on anything from massage to glans blame. We’d provide a cozy atmosphere, with sofas, beds, chairs, thick carpeting, video displays showing porn, showers, a hot tub, lockers, maybe even a ping pong table.

It would be a club that all adults would be encouraged to join.

We decided we needed to do some research. Since my house is big, this became where we started our experimentation. First, we invited Liza’s brother who expressed an interest in our mastubatorium idea. He was reluctant when we invited him, but decided it would be ‘fun.’

That night, in my main living room, Liza, I, and her brother gathered under subdued lighting, with quiet music in the background, composed and recorded by Liza. Liza and I took our clothes off right away, so he’d be comfortable doing the same. It took him a good half-hour to get used to his nudity in front of us, especially his own sister, but he did. No one touched anyone else that night. We each did ourselves, and all three of us had very nice orgasms.

Next, we wanted more people. I invited my daughter, her husband, my son, and his wife. I have to tell you, when we first explained the masturbatorium to them, they thought we were nuts. It took the four of them a week to settle down, and while they were reluctant, they did want to support our research. I didn’t think it would actually happen, but we did get all of them in my living room, and jerking off together. Ultimately, the two young couples masturbated their own spouses. And that’s probably the way it should be. There may have been issues if they had started in on the other one’s spouse.

It is a strange as a father to see your own children being masturbated. In general, I was proud of them for being the open-minded, and sensible children I raised. I was also happy to see them so sexually confident and satisfied.

The evening ended well, with them thanking us for ‘sparking up their sex lives’ and complimenting our masturbatorium idea.

Next, we placed an ad on Craigslist. The day of the event, we had eleven other people in my house, nine men, and only two women. That’s when we realized we’d have to skew our advertising and publicity toward women.

On Friday the 13th, we opened our masturbatorium. Liza’s daughter, unemployed with an unfortunately useless masters degree in English literature, became the club’s manager. When we proposed that to her, she laughed, saying manager or not, she’d be the club’s happiest member. Her younger brother became primary usher and head of maintenance.

Despite a moderate amount of newspaper advertising, we had few clients the first month. Fortunately Liza and I didn’t need the money. We had plenty to pay our fourteen employees even if no one came in. On the really slow days, we told the employees they could take off their clothes and partake of the facilities.

One slow evening we witnessed Liza’s son and daughter giving each other orgasms. We talked about it, and decided that it was a good thing.

Our biggest concern was government or public disapproval. After all, this was a highly controversial idea. In the minds of some, it might seem similar to a whore house.

To combat that, we made it very sex-positive, stating that masturbation is good for health, that we were promoting healthy social interaction, nothing of an unsavory nature was allowed, and that we were all about personal growth, pointing out our positive body image awareness classes, massage classes, and so on.

There was no need to worry. Whereas we did get some negative reviews, they only raised public curiosity. Surprisingly, we got lots of good press. One night, the mayor and her husband attended. The next day’s headline was “Mayor Attends Masturbatorium.” That was a turning point.

Now, on any given night, we’ll have up to sixty customers. We keep the rooms warm so people are comfortable unclothed. Whereas people can wear anything they want, at least ninety percent of our customers wear nothing. You might see a mixed-sex naked foursome at the ping pong table. One of the guys will be playing while his erection waves around, unnoticed, in front of him. You’ll see a half-dozen people in the open showers, and another half-dozen in the hot tub.

The hot tub is a special case. We use intense ultra-violet and electronic sterilization of the water, and filter a large quantity every minute. That thing cost us a small fortune, but we feel it was worth the expense.

You’ll see a woman stretched out on a sofa holding a vibrator to her clit while conversing with another woman sitting in a chair rubbing herself. You’ll see a husband and wife frigging each other. You’ll see independent guys just watching the action, and walking around with hardons, idly stroking themselves. You’ll see a guy giving an exquisite handjob to his buddy. You’ll see a guy in front of the videos, having a crashing ejaculation. And so on!

We’re going to start opening branches. We have to, because our masturbatorium is filled to capacity every weekend evening, and many weekday evenings as well.

We are getting kind of evangelistic about masturbation as a way to solve many of society’s problems from real ills like high blood pressure to social pressure. If people would masturbate more, there’d be fewer unwanted pregnancies, fewer cases of disease, and I think most people would be better psychologically adjusted. I think we should eventually open a branch location in every community in the country, if not the world.

We’ll need branch managers. Managers will get the usual fringe benefits, plus on slow days they can mingle with the guests and partake of the facilities. What about you? Are you looking for a new line of work?

1 thought on “The Masturbatorium

  1. Oh my god, sign me up! What does it pay? Maybe $40,000/year? I’d gladly give up my current $200k job to become a janitor or usher at the masturbatorium!

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