Most guys think they know how to masturbate. While it's true, of course, that most guys are familiar with the ins and outs of the situation, no mortal could ever truly know how to masturbate. Even if a guy spent every waking second of the day experimenting with himself, as well as occasionally scaring conceited girls at bus stops, he would still never really know how to bring himself to states of pleasure that are available through that particular organ. It comes with the territory. Create mankind, and only give them an average of seventy years to live, they'll never really develop any sense of what one can achieve taking matters into their own hands. Jareth, on the other hand, had been alive close to three thousand years. If you want to know the real deal with Jesus H. Christ, he's the one to ask. If you want to feel like your entire life has been one tiny insignificant drop in an inconsequential universe, he's the one to talk to. More importantly, he's had plenty of time to learn all those secrets about masturbation that can make your eyes pop out, and break windows from fifty paces.
There are so many details your average man has neither the time, imagination of effort to care about. Where the fingers are placed. Cutting your fingernails. Knowing the circumference, radius and exact locations of certain spots some men may never know exist, and the exact friction with which rubbing brings greatest pleasure. The level of moisture the hands should exist with. Whereabouts one should prod one self during orgasm to heighten the sensation. Which particular dental hygiene product should be smeared on one's testicles. There are five million, seventy-two thousand, three hundred and forty-seven things a guy can do to make masturbation more enjoyable, and Jareth knew most of them. If he ever offers to give you a hand-job, just say no. The rest of your life will be a meaningless experience from the point forwards. Though some people may argue it would be worth it. If Jareth ever wrote a book detailing all these secrets, the economics of the world would collapse. Every man in the world would retreat to the comforts of his home, and feel like they've wasted their lives up to that point and have no intention of wasting it any longer. They would, in theory, forget to eat, but luckily various foodstuffs are used throughout the book, and while it usually wouldn't be considered hygienic to eat these foods afterwards, these men would all be too busy to worry about such trivial things.
As the teeny, tiny specks of water came out the shower nozzle, Sarah locked the bathroom door and began to undress. She always had the uneasy sensation of being watched when she was naked. She had experienced this since she has first developed those feminine squidgy bits men love so much at the age of twelve, and had chalked it down to a basic human paranoia, and a lack of confidence with her sexuality. Well, that, and the fact her bathroom curtains had a rather severe tear in them. She had taken to hanging sheets on the inside of the curtains, on the off chance that anyone could see in they'd get an eyeful of sheet, instead of yummy goodness. Her stepmother had told her that she was very conceited, and that no one could see through that window at such a height at any rate. Sarah had stormed off in a tantrum, at the time, locked herself in the room and shouted "it's not fair" a whole lot. This wasn’t a very rational thing to do, but then Sarah wasn't a very rational person.
As Sarah stood there in her underwear, she tried to pluck up the courage to whip it all off and get in the shower. This was when the paranoia was the strongest. Once she got over it, and removed her undergarments it was always something of a relief. The paranoia was still there, of course, but more as a relaxed, general uneasiness, then what she was experiencing now. The current paranoia was like being the focus of the whole world. She half expected pictures of herself to turn up in tabloids, the paranoia was so great. Of course, they never did, but the fact that nothing had gone wrong up 'til now, was only a sign that it was going to happen.
She unfastened her bra, and carefully placed it on the pile with the rest of her clothes. She held an arm in front of her breasts as a ward against the paranoia, then cursed her own stupidity for doing so. She put her arms firmly by her side as a stand to herself not to let fear rule her life. She slipped what was left off, and the pile increased slightly. Naked as the day she was born, but significantly larger, and a whole lot more desirable, she stepped into the shower, and allowed the warm water to massage her skin in a futile attempt to ease her paranoia. Before long she picked up the soap and started washing her arms.
Jareth sat in his room, gazing into his crystal ball. He knew he had gone about earning Sarah's love the wrong way some months earlier. You can't just throw your balls in someone's face and offer them their dreams, it doesn't work that way. He knew that now, but it mattered very little anyway. If he had won her, well, then what? Sure, so he'd have a whole lot of sex, but he'd also have to put up with her incessant whining about how unfair everything was. Yes, she was beautiful, but if he'd won her she would cease to be the beautiful girl of her dreams, and she'd become the bitch who kept complaining about how fat she was, despite how obvious it was she was prefect. Besides, he knew she hadn't had as much practice with the male member as he had himself. True, his was the only one he'd ever touched (although malicious scandals, mostly started by a swamp troll named Angelina, had claimed otherwise), but still - he'd touched his own member much more often than Sarah had even speculated about such things. He made a much better lover to himself than she ever could.
She was in the crystal ball before him, and as per usual was pausing when down to her underwear. Jareth felt quite guilty about watching her sometimes. This girl had actually put up a sheet across the curtains, despite the fact no one could possibly see through them, and here he was taking advantage of situations she couldn't possibly help. After a while he'd simply decided, what the hell. His focus on her was at it's most intense when she was in her underwear. He always worried that she might, for some reason, wind up putting her clothes back on and doing crosswords instead of getting nice and clean, like every good girl should. The more she paused, the more he focused. The more he focused, the more she paused. Eventually though, she always gave in. Mortals have always had great defence mechanisms which will allow them to deny things to themselves that they know be true. Jareth believed deep down in her paranoia she knew him to be watching, and with this he justified his voyeurism. This goes to show mortals aren't the only ones capable of deluding themselves.
Jareth began removing his tights. She was still in her underwear at this point, and he didn't plan on starting anything until she was getting good and frothy, but those tights could be tricky to get off, and so he decided to get a head start. Jareth had always prided himself on having such a large prick. It helped boost the confidence he'd lost by only being able to afford a relatively small chariot. Before long Sarah was cleansing what religious mothers might possibly refer to as "dirtypillows", and Jareth was visualising himself being there with her, intent on making them dirty again. At this point Unka came in. Unka was a goblin. Unka didn't like being a goblin. Being a goblin meant you had to have a stupid name. Unka did, however, like working for Jareth. Unka, along with some of the other goblins of a less-than-hetero approach to sexuality had learned to time their collections of laundry to coincide with Sarah's showers. The sight of Jareth in tights had long ago cemented in them the desire to catch him with them down, and once they cracked the times of when he was likely to be up to mischief, they never missed an opportunity. Jareth quickly jerked to one side, so as the shooting semen wouldn't smash the crystal ball in a billion itty-bitty pieces, and instead it wound up catching Unka on the forehead.
"Terribly sorry", Jareth lied, without conviction.
"Don't mention it", Unka replied, trying to sound annoyed but barely able to hide his elation. He wiped the semen from his head, and tried to discreetly keep it in a safe place for later oral sampling.
"She will be mine one day, you know", Jareth said, gesturing to the crystal ball. Not that he had much of a desire to speak to Unka, but everyone knows villains love to brag about accomplishments they have yet to even achieve.
"Oh yes, sir? How can you be so sure?" asked Unka, barely able to hide the disappointment at his master having made such a heterosexual statement.
"Because this is Labyrinth fan-fiction, you dolt!" came the reply, "have you ever read one in which I didn't bag the slut?"
TO BE CONTINUED...
I hope that I can say the things I wish I'd said.
Edited by Sysiyo on 06/23/04 07:09 AM (server time).