Josh Hawley’s New Book Talks A LOT About Masturbation
An exclusive sneak peek preview excerpt!
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[The following is a sneak peek preview excerpt from Josh Hawley’s forthcoming book, Manhood: The Masculine Virtues America Needs.]
I care so deeply about manhood, masculinity, and the struggles boys and men face in our decidedly anti-men era because I’ve struggled too. I know firsthand how easy it is for males in this society to succumb to the temptation to waste their lives watching pornography for hours every day, and commit the sin of masturbation over and over from morning to night.
I was once a serial masturbator myself. When I hit puberty, Satan tested my soul for over a decade by raising my libido beyond what seemed natural or even possible. No matter how much I prayed, no matter how much I begged God to purify my thoughts, and no matter how much I tried to focus 100% of my attention on the suffering of Jesus during his crucifixion, I could not stop myself from masturbating 5, 10, as much as 15 times a day.
Jerking off consumed my almost every waking second and thought, regardless if I was in school, at church, at the dinner table with my parents, or even in the graveyard at my grandparents’ funerals. I planned and strategized every hour of my life around sneaking away to a bathroom or my bedroom.
I did the deed constantly until my hands were so blistered and raw I needed to wear gardening gloves. I did it until my penis was calloused over completely, with my skin as hard as (no pun intended) tree bark. I did it until the only thing that could get me off was literally hard, scratchy tree bark, and I’d drill holes into trees in the woods in the park behind my childhood subdivision to hump. Or concrete bricks I’d stack up and make a little hole in between to go to town on for 45 minutes until I could finally coax an orgasm from my poor, over-used, dead tired, almost sensation-less penis.
I literally could not help myself. So wholly was I trapped in the heartless, shackled prison of addiction that I could think of almost nothing else.
I’d sneak my hand into my pants during math class and fondle myself while imagining my 70-year-old teacher Ms. Kasselstein slowly taking off her thick lensed glasses, letting her…
