As the last few customers lingered in the hotel’s upscale Chinese restaurant, Jeff snuck into the bathroom and got the best blow job he’d ever had. “I’m not gonna lie,” he tells MEL. “It was the experience of a lifetime.”
Jeff was alone, however, and this life-changing head didn’t come from a partner or any living thing, in fact. Instead, Jeff dipped his flaccid dick and balls into a $1,349 Dyson Airblade™️ dB.
“Every man has thought about it at least once,” Jeff argues. (He’s using a pseudonym for “obvious private reasons.”) “Like, these things come up when with close friends, you know? Especially when we’re young.” And sure, many men have been tempted. On Urban Dictionary, teabagging a hand dryer is known as the Flying Dyson or the Dyson Dip; it’s also a classic Hannibal Buress joke. But what separates Jeff from the rest of us is that he dared to turn the thought What if I stuck my dick in there? into action.
“Yeah, this is unfortunately true,” Jeff admits.
It was 2017, and Jeff was 22, out at dinner with his friends, and the evening was getting late. At around 9 p.m., the restaurant was nearly closed.
(MEL agreed not to disclose the name or location of the restaurant, but I spoke with a very confused manager, who was able to confirm the layout and location of the bathrooms as Jeff described. Indeed, the Dyson hand-dryer is still there.)
Jeff said it was just an innocent trip to the bathroom. He didn’t plan any of this. He wasn’t even drunk, he insists. But when he laid eyes on that Dyson Airblade™ dB, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head. Fuck it, he thought. “I mean, it was late at night. I wasn’t thinking straight… and probably a bit horny.”
He continues: “There were two dryers in the bathroom, one close to the door and the other one on the opposite side of the door. They hung on the beige white-and-blue-tiled wall. The bathroom was relatively clean, what you’d expect in a hotel.” That part’s important, he says, “because had the bathroom been dirty, I never would’ve done it.”
Dyson profited roughly $1 billion in 2017, the year Jeff found himself gazing down at the state-of-the-art polycarbonate-ABS casing and double-life HEPA glass-fiber air filter, a machine specifically engineered to dry human hands, not genitals, in 12 to 14 seconds.
“I opted for the dryer closest to the door, not behind it, because I thought I’d have a better chance of blocking a door if someone wanted to come in… and I could keep a lookout instead of molesting a dryer obliviously,” he explains.
The dryers in this particular bathroom were placed relatively low, “located just below thigh position. Which was great.”
As if guided by an unseen hand, he pulled down his zipper — and paused. “I actually stood there for a minute thinking about it,” he tells MEL. But before his conscience (or whatever was going to stop him) got in the way, he snapped out of it.
The next thing he knew, Jeff was balls-deep between the Dyson’s dual jet streams. Thanks to the Airblade™ dB’s “touch-free infrared activation,” all Jeff had to do was plop his junk in there to trigger the 420 mph blast of filtered air — up to 9.25 gallons of air per second, according to Dyson.
The air traveled through the HEPA air filter, up the ducts specially insulated to reduce noise, out of the signature 0.8 mm air blades and back at Jeff’s penis. As the machine whirred, managing to spend just a fraction of the energy of other hand dryers, the loose skin of Jeff’s scrotum whipped around like a dog’s cheeks hanging out of a car window.
“Any sexual analogies would fail here, since the machine was blowing air and not sucking it,” Jeff clarifies. “It was not hygienic, but I am not a precautious or smart person either.”
Nevertheless, Jeff prevailed. “I didn’t bob up and down; rather, I rested my dick on the edge because it was receiving the air from both sides, and since my dick is curved in a convex way, the underside of [it] had more air pushing below it, which felt pretty weird but in a good way.”
He admits Dyson’s feat of engineering technology — it took the company seven years to perfect its V4 motor, according to the site — didn’t really get his rocks off. So he finished the job himself, afterward, in a locked toilet stall.
The whole ordeal “was about two to five minutes,” Jeff tells MEL. “I was constantly worried [my friends would] bust in, but I had told them that I was going to shit… which is true. That was my original intent. Obviously that didn’t happen, but it was my safety net for being gone as long as I was.”
Afterward, he felt a “sense of amazement accompanied with hidden accomplishment.” He wiped down the dryer and headed back to dinner.
He’s returned to the restaurant a few times since that night, “and it does trigger a nostalgic sort of experience, like, ‘been there, done that,’” he says. “But I have not used that dryer again, and even though it’s been cleaned, I probably never will.”
As far as he remembers, “I haven’t told anyone this story,” he concludes. “I just kept it as one of my pervy secrets… until now.”