I used to jerk off to Nascar. I would imagine the cars running over my balls, and it would turn me on so much. The feeling was exhilarating and exciting. Sure, my parents didn’t understand, but I did, and that was all that mattered.
I remember lying on the ground and just watching the cars whizz past, the smell of burnt rubber and fuel in the air. I’d get so aroused imagining them racing over my naked body, tire treads on either side of me, going faster and faster.
I’d squeeze my thighs together and enjoy the feeling of my own pleasure as I imagined the cars running over my balls and buttocks. The sensation was like no other, and I could barely contain myself.
Then one day, I went a bit too far. I was so aroused that I got too close to the track, and one of the cars ran over my balls. I don’t remember much except the searing pain and a loud thud as I was thrown to the ground.
After recovering, I realized how silly I had been and never tried to jerk off to Nascar again.