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People Share Their Weirdest Handjob Stories

The value of the humble handjob is often disputed, so we asked men and women to recount their best, worst, and most bizarre experiences in the art of manual stimulation.
Image via Pixabay

Handjobs are for teenagers. Or so it's said. After you've progressed to oral sex and intercourse, what's the point in bringing a handjob to completion? And why would you want one from another person when you can just do it yourself, better, anyway?

The humble handjob lives many lives, from the teenage girl pressured to go under the waistband to the sex worker whose clients can only handle infidelity if it happens manually. According to Grazyna Zajdow's paper "Sex Work and Regulation: Holding on to an Image," a "happy ending" became widely known as part of the massage repertoire in the 1970s; women would take jobs as masseuses, realize they were expected to masturbate their clients, and soon progress to becoming "hand whores." Though, of course, the history of the handjob is as long as the history of mankind.

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Today, you can take classes that instruct you the art of the giving the perfect handjob, but because life is Seinfeld, we should turn to Elaine. "Being a woman, I only really have access to the equipment, what, 30, 45 minutes a week?" she says, discussing her efforts to convert a gay man to heterosexuality. "And that's on a good week. How can I be expected to have the same expertise as people who own this equipment and have access to it 24 hours a day, their entire lives?"

Exactly. Nevertheless, the value of the common handjob is often disputed, so we asked both givers and receivers about their successes and failures in the manual arena.

Photo via Flickr user billburris

ON GIVING

Carly*
The last time I gave a handjob was three weeks ago, to a guy from London who I had been talking to online for a year. It was the second night of his stay on his vacation, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to fuck him yet, so I figured this was a good way to check out the goods before I made my decision. It was probably the easiest handjob I'd ever given because of the pent-up sexual attraction for a year. I yanked on that thing so well, with such determination, that my neck cramped up so bad and ruined the rest of the trip. I was still pretty satisfied, because when he came he sounded like a girl, and it was really hot. It was worth the pain.

Jane
Met a sensual musician man at a thrash-type show right after a pretty bad breakup. I needed some attention, so when I realized this handsome guy was hitting on me, I snapped out of it really quickly. We hit it off that night, and he asked me to go out with him since [his band was] staying in town for another day. We went out then next evening, had a wonderful vegan meal, some drinks, and were flirting like crazy. The chemistry was undeniable. Things got heavy quickly in several public parking lots as we intermittently bar-crawled and had public sexual encounters.

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Being on tour, hooking up in a house in front of people on the floor was not ideal, so the oral sex and handjobbery commenced within my vehicle and remained there between drinking bouts. The handjobs were aplenty. I had no idea that a man could store so much semen and continually produce it at a rapid pace. I think he came three times within a short amount of time from touching alone. He gave me plenty oral sex, and I jerked him off, on and off, for a good four-to-five hours. I think at least a liter of cum was ejected from him within that short period of time. Some people say handjobs are out of style, but I sure enjoy being fingered; handjobs are just a part of the "treat others the way you'd like the be treated" principle.

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Bonnie
I gave handjobs when I was pregnant because I was too tired to have sex and my husband wouldn't leave me the fuck alone.

Sandra
I like giving handjobs. Often we've already slept together, and the men tell me they haven't come from a handjob since high school. I take this as a challenge, and soon enough their minds are blown.

Photo via Flickr user question_everything

ON RECEIVING

Brent
I was having a really shitty week. I was coming back to real-life responsibilities from a super fun week out in Oakland. I got bored while I was waiting on my bag at the airport, so I started Tindering. My first swipe right was a match, and she wanted to meet up that night. I was tired and bummed out, but she suggested we get high and watch Mrs. Doubtfire in tribute to Robin Williams passing, so I was in.

I showed up at her apartment with the DVD only to find that she didn't have any weed. She did have some Fig Newtons, though, so I just kinda ate those. Right around the "run-by fruiting" scene at the pool, we started making out on the couch. She didn't want to freak her roommates out and suggested we go to her room, which I was all about. We started undressing. She got a big smile on her face and said we didn't have to [have sex], but that she wanted to do something special for me. Maybe it was dumb of me to assume it was going to be oral or something, but nothing prepared me for what happened next: She started to jerk me off over my underwear.

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I wasn't sure what to do. There I was, a grown man, getting a dry handjob. It didn't feel bad or anything—it was just really confusing, especially because she kept saying stuff like, "Yeah…you like that, don't you? How does that feel?" I'm pretty sure I sat there, not blinking. I was prepared to reciprocate somehow, but she didn't want me to and called me an Uber. I got my Mrs. Doubtfire DVD and went home, still confused about what had just happened.

Steve
The last time I got a handjob to completion I was on tour. On the way to a show in western Massachusetts we stopped at a thrift store. I bought this shirt with a huge bedazzled picture of Michael Jackson and the words "King of Pop" on it. I thought it would be funny to wear for the show that night. After the show, a couple of us went to a bar with our friends who are in a local band. On the way there, I hit it off with one of their friends.

I had been snorting Adderall all day and barely eating, so I completely misjudged how much I was drinking and got wasted to the brink of blacking out. I got in a drunken fight with my best friend that ended with us rolling around in the street and him tearing my newly acquired shirt. I momentarily blacked out and got lost and had to drunkenly find my way back to the house we were staying at, which somehow resulted in the shirt getting torn even more, to the point where it wasn't even covering most of my chest.

When I finally found the house, I had sobered up for the most part and was pleasantly surprised to find the girl I'd hit it off with earlier still hanging out there. We stayed up flirting and smoking cigarettes after everyone else went to sleep, her teasing me with the fact that I obviously wanted to fuck her but she had a boyfriend. I just tried to seem as moody and sexy as possible. We ended up deciding to cuddle in an empty bed but not fool around, on account of the aforementioned boyfriend. This of course turned into us with our pants off doing everything other than fucking until the sun came up. She gave me one of the sexiest handjobs I've ever had, and I came all over my torn-up shirt. We made out for a little while longer, and then as I heard my bandmates beginning to wake up, I snuck out to the street and threw the shredded, cum-covered, bejeweled Michael Jackson shirt in the trash.

*All names have been changed.