Hi all, it’s a good Sunday night right now, with the drizzling rain, and I thought I’d write a bit more about my history with newspapers, and maybe if any of you could somehow relate with it (not the newspaper part, but other parts of the story). I’ll try to make this one shorter as the other ones I’ve written seems to be too long.

Now, unlike most people here I’m kind of new to the world of magazines, only started like 4 years ago, and I really moved on to magazines as newspapers have been on a clear decline lately. But newspapers, that one’s been my world for my entire life. The earliest memory I can remember even involved newspapers.

Now here’s the thing, as it stands now, the process of newspapers getting ruined makes me feel… a bit excited, if you catch my drift. I have no idea where this started, but I think I can pinpoint some moments in my life that have contributed to this weird fascination.

Let’s start from the very beginning. When I was young (very young, we’re talking preschool), our family was moving home. Of course, my parents wrapped our things with newspaper before chucking them into the trailer. One thing that stood out was a piece of newspaper that had a Sustagen ad on it. Not sure why I remember that particular one, but that paper was taken out and used to wrap some metal rod. That was the earliest memory of my childhood, I couldn’t even remember what kind of metal rod was that. Maybe the sound of the paper crumbling stuck with me.

Moving on, I was a bit older, still a child, probably early elementary school. I was sick, and my parents took me to a hospital. We had to wait in the waiting room for a bit. They had a few newspapers and tabloids there, one of them (couldn’t remember the brand) was a woman’s tabloid that had this large closeup image of a girl on the front. Anyway, suddenly one of the patients vomitted, leaving a puddle of vomit on the floor. A janitor then arrived and, first thing he did was he picked that aforementioned tabloid, took the cover page with the girl on it and laid it on top of the puddle. He then pulled his mop and started mopping the vomit remains with the newspaper.
For some reason, the sight of the image of the smiling girl getting wet, mixed with vomit, and slowly turned into indescribable vomit / newspaper mush stuck with me. At that time I was still young, haven’t grown an interest to the opposite sex, so I wasn’t sure why that experience stuck, maybe it was the colorful image of the cover.

Let’s keep going. Now this one is somewhat traumatic, so to say. I was much older now, maybe late elementary or early junior high. I already had this interest to the opposite sex, albeit I was still not sure what to do with it. My newspaper collections of this era had also changed, from newspapers with colorful images or my favourite cartoon characters, to newspapers with pictures of attractive women. Time was changing indeed.
I was asked by my mom to buy this grilled meat from this roadside diner-like place. I went there with my bicycle. It was so early that they hadn’t ready yet, but they allowed me to stay while they prepare the grill. Now this dinner, they sold grilled meat, if you ordered a takeout they would wrap your food with newspapers to absorb the oil and fat (I guess), that’s just how they do it.
So, they pulled out the grill and a bag of briquettes. The grill was black and dirty. The “chef” then pulled out a stack of newspapers. He picked a random one and pulled a random page, it was the cover page. I remember clearly that page had this full-page fashion department store ad, with a cute looking girl on it posing, looking at the camera (or at us). The chef then without remorse wiped the grill with that newspaper with reckless abandon. He just wiped it without any care to what was on the page (of course). I could see the picture of the girl slowly crumbled and ruined, in her place was nothing but black marks from the grill. He then dunked the newspaper to a kerosene and set it on fire, using it to light up the grill. I could only watch helplessly as the girl slowly burned and disappeared. He then pulled another page, which had another ad of the fashion store (it was two page) and used it to cover the raw meat, while another chef started ripping several pages to use later as a wrapper. That was traumatic to me. When I got my order I asked a couple of newspapers from them, I bullshitted that I was going to use it “for my bicycle” without elaborating more. They gave me a couple of sheets, one of them had an editorial about this actress, which I still remember I was thankful I saved that image from destruction. Later that year, I managed to get a copy of that day’s newspaper, which I kept until around college in which I had to abandon all of my collection.

That experience was so traumatic, it triggered my first “wet dream”, on the bicycle while riding home right after that. No joke. I was awake when my first “release” happened. I was about halfway home when I suddenly had this massive urge to pee. I thought to myself I’d hold it and do it later when I arrived at home. Suddenly without any signs of any sort I “discharged” the “pee”. I didn’t know what it was but I couldn’t control it, it kept going out. Suddenly I felt so limp and weak I had to stop, I sat under a tree while still trying to control the “pee”, but I couldn’t. I felt a rush of comfort and relaxation (you know how it feels, but it was alien to the junior high school age me). When it was done, I took the chance and try to pee under the tree, but nothing came out. My pants were all wet and sitcky, along with my bicycle seat. I just sat there wondering how did I fail to hold the pee (and why the pee was extra sticky), and what sort of reasoning I’d give to my mom of peeing my pants at such an age. I’ve stopped bedwetting years ago, I thought.
I really didn’t know what to do, so I picked a random newspaper page I got from the diner (the one I least care about) and put it between my legs in the hope that the paper would “absorb” the “pee”. It didn’t work obviously, but it felt really good. This is probably the start of my fascination towards newspapers in later years.
Thankfully, luck was on my side. Suddenly the rain struck hard. I intentionally rode under the rain so all of my body would get wet, masking the large “pee mark” on my pants. After all, if all of my body was wet, the mark would “blend in”. I was able to return home and said that I was wet due to the rain.

There were several others of course in later times. One time, my school had this bazaar kind of thing. One of the group was selling fruits. I remember clearly they used a newspaper which had a half-page image of a cute actress to wrap the fruits. They just picked the page, ripped it, and used them. I could see the image, all ruined. I had the same copy of the newspaper at home and I put it at a figurative pedestal, so seeing the same copy just used as a common wrapper shocked me a bit.

Or that time in high school when they were repainting the walls. Of course, they covered the floor and everything with newspapers. One of them, had this news about ellie goulding. I really had hoped that particular newspapers wouldn’t get ruined or get painted. Me suddenly snatching the newspaper for no reason would look suspicious, so I could only hope that page would turn out ok. I volunteered as a cleaner guy, someone who would clean the newspaper after everything was done, but this was just a cover so I could bring home that particular newspaper. It was almost a success. That newspaper “survived” the ordeal. But, right after everything was done, the painter ripped THAT page and used it to clean some paint. I lamented why he had to use that one instead of so many other worthless newspapers around him. I managed to find it at the end of the day, but it was too destroyed to even worth adding to my collection.

Alright, there’s too many other examples to list. After all, using newspapers for all sorts of things that destroys it is a very common thing. But this has changed me (for better or worse). Everytime I hear the sound of a newspaper getting ripped (I’m overly sensitive to that sound), I would get… a bit hard. Which is problematic as ripping newspaper is very common around here. Seeing a newspaper being used to wrap fruits, food, or to cover something, is also problematic to me.

I always thought : what would the model of the pictures think if they see their likeness on the newspapers get ruined. They spent so much time applying makeup, posing, making sure they look good, getting their images printed, only to have the pictures of their gorgeous faces / figures used to clean dirt or absorb nasty things without even being looked at. This might be a weird way of thinking, but for me, that’s what’s on my mind.

Anyway, I’d like to hear what are your thoughts. Maybe you felt similar things with magazines getting ruined? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

EXTRA : After that bicycle incident in which I discharged on a bicycle, I’ve always wanted to recreate that experience. The problem was, young me didn’t know what I did to trigger it. All I could remember was, I was peeing, I saw newspapers getting destoyred, and I had newspapers with me. So, I came up to the conclusion : peeing with a newspaper is the answer.

So for months I tried to recreate that feeling by literally pissing into newspapers. I would roll them into pipe-like shape, then piss into it, and see the “damage”. It didn’t work obviously, so I upped the ante by pissing into newspapers which has interesting images on them. That didn’t work either (and all I did was thinning my supply of newspapers with gorgeous people on them). I brainstormed and remembered that the “bicycle discharge” happened when I didn’t expect it. So I tried to “bedwetting” again. I would put a newspaper with an interesting image in my pants, drink a lot of water, and go to sleep. This didn’t work as I would always wake up in the middle of the night wanting to pee, and I had to purposefully release the pee which defeats the purpose of “unexpected pee”. But, I found out that the feeling of the newspaper rubbing against my member was feeling quite good, and if I rub it enough the pee would come out with me having no control of it.
I kept trying this method until one day, it happened. I still remember the newspaper I picked, it was a “woman’s special” page with a full-page image of a woman smiling into the camera while eating (that edition was about “healthy eating” or some sort). I drank a lot of water, put the newspaper in my crotch, and went to sleep. Midnight, I woke up with a throbbing sensation and I “pee” it, not the regular pee, but the famed wet dreaming. I felt like I was sent to heaven while I could feel my underside getting wetter and wetter, and my member loudly spraying into the newspaper. I woke up, the newspaper was ruined (her image was all wet), and I finally broke the code : to trigger it, I need to rub a newspaper with an interesting image to my member until it came out.

And that’s how I discovered mine. Sometimes, I wonder how demeaning the stuff I did back when I was younger. I used countless images of women on newspapers just to piss at them and see my pee absorb into their images. But it is what it is. And this is a habit I carried with me all these years (not the pee of course, you know what I mean).

Thank you for reading, it’s been a blast writing all of this.+