The Time I Almost Burned Down My House…

I forewarn you dear reader, this is not a tale for those that are squeamish. If per-chance you are one of my parents, or in-laws, you should just skip over this post and pretend that the tale I am about to tell never happened. Go on believing that I am a chaste, honest and moral individual that would do anything so lascivious, so sinful, so dirty….are you wondering just what the fuck I am talking about yet? Well, this is a story I have told many a time, but I feel it needs to be told yet again; because, if you can’t laugh at the stupid, embarrassing shit you did in your life, then you are just too uptight. So, parents, in-laws, religious types, prudes, tea-party affiliates, right-wing nut jobs, people that watch the view….turn back now……are you still here? Well, this is the story about how I almost burned down my parents house when I was a teen while I was masturbating. And it is totally true.

Even at a young age, I had a romantic side. I needed more than just some lotion and a minute to myself in the bathroom. I can distinctly remember in the 8th grade some friends talking about how when they made out and “dry humped” some girl and that they “creamed their jeans.” I thought to myself, why have I never creamed my jeans? Then that same conversation turned to masturbatory length, to which several of my friends said, “yeah, it doesn’t take me more than like 30 or 40 seconds to get off.” I just went along with it,

“Yeah man, I jerk off faster than a jack-rabbit, I can just look at Cindy Crawford and blast a load into orbit.”

Which was a total lie. It took me a while. I thought something was wrong with me at the time. Now I realize, this is a good thing, but at the time, I knew I was a little different.

As I progressed and continued my masturbatory journey  as a teen, I discovered that I liked more than  just a few seconds to myself in the bathroom. I liked a mood. I liked to put on some music, light a candle, and do my thang so to speak. Which brings us to the meat of the tale at hand (pun intended).

A friend of mine had discovered the mother load, a veritable goldmine; boxes and boxes of playboys in his basement marked as “xmas ornaments.” To an 18 year old boy, only an actual naked woman in a box in your basement could have been any better. My friend, wanting to spread the wealth said to me, “Dude, you can totally take a few, my dad will never know.” Of course, I took him up on this generous offer and promised him that someday I would repay him.

With my incredible bounty in hand (i’m sorry, just too many puns to pass up), I was quivering with anticipation of what would surely come later that night (that one wasn’t on purpose).  I was going to jerk off and it was going to be fucking awesome, because this time, I had brand, spanking new porn in pristine condition. It wasn’t passed around from friend to friend, pages stuck together, women soiled by so many teens, until the magazine was just a disgusting mess. No. These centerfolds would be all mine.

But as I previously stated, I liked to set a mood. I couldn’t just take 30 seconds looking at some jugs and get my rocks off. Oh no. I was\am a romantic at heart. So, armed with my playboy, I waited until about midnight when I was sure everyone was in bed. I got out my Lime Verbena scented candle from Pier 1 Imports (I’m classy like that), I turned off the lights, I put on some Mazzy Star and I opened some pristine issues of Playboy magazine, ready to de-virginize them.

As I began to pleasure myself there in the dark, in my parents house, the scents…..the sounds…..the flickering light……I gave into my wild abandon and ripped my pants off and tossed them without a care. The heaving bosoms of one of the ladies that Hugh Hefner probably nailed burned permanently in some primal part of my brain. Stroke after lustful stroke….sweat began to bead upon my brow. The candle seemed to flicker brighter out of the corner of my eye as if it were in sync with my burning desire…I took my shirt off….as I prepared for what is surely to come, the candle seemed to burn even brighter, along with my youthful passion for porn. Resolute in my determination, something seemed a little off, I glanced over, because it did seems as if the candle was pretty bright. It is then dear reader, to my horror, that I realized in the throes of pleasuring myself, that my pants were fucking on fire, not metaphorically, but literally. When I tore them off, and tossed them without a care, one of my pant legs had landed right on top of my Lime Verbena scented candle.

HOLY SHIT MY PANTS ARE ON FUCKING FIRE….and the flames were burning pretty high.

I sprang out of bed naked, boner in hand.

What the fuck do I do? Should I finish off? My whole family is going to die because I was jerking off. Will the coroner know that I burned to death while I still had a boner? Would they find my burnt corpse, with a raging hard on still in my hand? Oh sweet Jesus Christ!!!!

Without thinking I started stomping on the flames with my bare feet. I grabbed a nearby water bottle and doused the flames. I was making a lot of noise… stomping, swearing, the sound of me trying to hold back my screams as I burned my feet. I hear my dad in the other room, “Taylor what’s going on in there?”

“Umm, nothing dad, I just tripped getting out of bed.” I thought, if my dad walks in right now, this will surely be the worst moment in the history of teen moments.

There I am in a smokey room, with chub in hand, burned feet, burned pants, melted carpet…who is to blame for this calamity?

PORN, THAT’S WHO, GLORIOUSLY EVIL PORNOGRAPHY!!!!!! Blast you porn, giver of pleasure and naked flesh, how could you do this to me? Why? Why have you forsaken me?!!!

Now that I had put out the flames, I realized there was a huge burnt spot on my carpet. The carpet is fucking melted and looks like shit. There is no way someone wasn’t going to notice it.  First step wasto take care of my  feet. I opened my window and tried to fan the smoke out…..I hear my dad in the other room, “Are you burning incense again Taylor?”

“I’ll put it out dad, sorry.”

I ran to the bathroom, stuck my feet in the cold tub and start to pick melted carpet out of my feet. The adrenaline still pumping, so the pain was still bearable. My right foot took the brunt of the burn, while my left is fairly unscathed somehow.

I ran back into my room to survey the damage. I grabbed a pair of scissors and began cutting out chunks of carpet, to try and make it look a little more normal. It really didn’t work. The only thing left to do was to rearrange my room –which i did in lighting record time.

With the room rearranged, and my feet really hurting, I looked at the playboy sitting there on my bed still, then looked at my pants which were completely ruined. I cursed the porn out loud and resolved to get rid of all my existing porn.

“It is some sort of sign from God,” i told myself. ” I am lucky I didn’t kill my whole family while jerking off.” I told myself. “Go throw it away!,” I told myself…but not before finishing off.

I mean, if I am going to almost burn down my whole house, ruin my favorite pair of pants, rearrange my entire room, burn my feet, I may as well at least get to blow a load right?

Hey, I told you it was embarrassing, but you wanted to read anyways.

After finishing off, taking a healthy dose of ibuprofen, and getting a bag if ice for my feet, I sneaked out the back door and threw away all my porn.  I then returned to my rearranged room. My bed now pushed over the ruined spot of carpet. Funny enough, my parents never said anything about the room being rearranged, but years later my mom called me after i had moved out and said,

“Hey, do you know what happened to the carpet in your room?”

I told her, “Umm, I have no idea, it was probably something that Patrick or Brennan did.” It is always best to blame your siblings.

So the moral of the story here is…Candles are dangerous, make sure that if you decide to use them, keep your pants, curtains, children, animals or any other combustible source away from the flames….oh, and the other moral is, don’t throw out your porn, because as soon as the garbage pickup comes, you will regret ever throwing it out.