Nocturnal emission

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The stuff that wet dreams are made of.

A nocturnal emission, or "wet dream" is a happy little explosion that occurs when a man loves someone very, very much, when he is sound asleep. It is a natural and sexy process, and nothing to be ashamed of, as some organized religions or parents of the prudish persuasion would have you believe. In its more spectacular instances, a wet dream can be a dazzling sensory circus of flashes and splashes culminating in a gooey flourish, followed by the pleasant aroma of chestnut blossoms. All of this, with none of the inconvenience of remaining conscious.

Efficiency[edit]

A nocturnal emission is not just refreshing, it is also a time saver. When considering the time and effort it takes a man to get the love juices flowing voluntarily, one would be hard pressed to dismiss its advantages. If masturbation is the daily grind, a wet dream is like a lazy weekend in Bermuda, stoned off of your ass on paint thinner. Alternatively, many satisfied dreamers describe it as “an occasional slumber party in your pants -- to which about 500 nekkid hotties are invited".

Contrasting with the typical methods of ejaculation, a wet dream is entirely hands-free, conserving the invaluable arm power you will need the next day, and preventing excessive wear and tear to your sensitive unit.

Academia and the nocturnal emission[edit]

Prominent viscous emission researcher, Prof. Josef. B. Tinglejolly, has been quoted in lavishly illustrated medical journals saying “Yes, I am on crack”, and more famously:

You see vith zee vet dream, your brain is stimulating zee spiffiniftirod cells in zee veevee drastically increasing zee dopamine flow to zee brain in mid-REM sleep, giving zee dreamer a most remarkable experience, and ven you print this in zee magazine make sure it trails off vith ellipsis right zere, alright? Make it look like I finished it off vith some intelligent-type conclusion or something. Thanks.

This Magic Moment[edit]

Mmm... unnh...ung? Mmmmmm...

It’s a collage of those images you’ve packed away in your brain like a squirrel. Faces are blurry and change by the moment. You’re surrounded by 15 of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen, and 31 of the nicest breasts. Was that your friend’s mom’s disembodied buttocks? No, it couldn’t be. You can’t move. Ugh. Now the breasts are rubbing up against you. And they are growing. And growing. And growing. Oh god, you’ve gotta pee. Pee so bad. Oh no. Oh no, actually you didn’t have to pee at all.

Upon waking to find your 100% organic crème-de-la-crème (or in cases of delayed discovery, “crust-de-la-crust”) the undergarments may simply be removed and given a brisk wash in the cold cycle. Then, you are simply happy that your prostate still works.

Some nights this could be a nuisance[edit]

So just go to sleep thinking about baseball.


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