Pornotopia: I Masturbate

The following is just one of a bunch of pieces I’ve been working on for a project tentatively titled Pornotopia: The Ins and Outs and Ins and Outs of Sex and Erotica. Enjoy!

Sure, I masturbate. Yeah, I jerk off. Damned straight, I yank it, pull it, stroke it, rub it, and jerk it. Lube, soap, shampoo or split. Left hand, right hand, frotage (look it up), other’s hands, sheets, and gizmos (manual, electric, and even diesel). Like it, love it -- do it a lot.

Let’s get this straight -- we all do it. Sure, yeah, right: “not me” someone says. Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up. We all do it. Nuns do it, dogs do it, cats do it, bees do it, Newt Gingrich and Jessie Helms do it (god, what a thought!). You say you don’t do it, you mean it when you say you don’t do it. Well, who leaves the wet spot on the bed, a topless Tinkerbell?

I masturbate. Come on, let’s say it together, enunciate those syllables: “I” -- rounding chorus of self identification. Come on, belt that fucker out -- “I” -- mean it now, say it true -- “Mast-ur-bate.”

I masturbate. He masturbates. She masturbates. They masturbate. We all masturbate. That out of the way? Breathing maybe a bit easier now? Let me tell you this, the old cliché of imagining folks in their underwear has zilch over thinking of all of you sitting there rubbing stroking, jacking, jilling yourselves into a grazed euphoria of self-love. Makes saying that I do it real easy.

I masturbate. Bullshit on that “self-abuse” nonsense: think of them sitting on the toilet in some sleazy dive yanking their pull little wieners with two embarrassed fingers, groaning like taking a shit, popping off an eye-dropped full of fun cream, wheezing like an asthmatic marathon runner (oooooh, sexy!) then going out onto the pulpit to tell you that “it’s bad for you”, “it’s sinful”, “it’s detrimental.”

I do it. I’m proud that I do -- because I do it well (hell, I like it) and I do it often: horny, need to sleep, need to relax, wanna get off quick, wanna get off slow, got a cold, don’t got a cold, at home, at parties (the right kind of parties), driving, sleeping (“Yeah, Tinkerbell, yeah!”), for myself, for others -- available for weddings, Bar Mitzvahs, etc.

Been doing it for years (first time think something like twelve -- late bloomer), will do it for many more. Do it tonight, do it probably tomorrow, do it with my wife, do it with my playmates, do it for pay (if anyone’s interested), do it for free. Ask me to, go on, ask me.

You can see me do it, you can hear me do it (the movie’s out there somewhere -- sorry they never told me what the title was going to be) and I write about doing it ...

... stroking my long, proud self, feeling the soft skin and the ridges and bumps of the veins. Feeling the skin of my hand rise and squeeze around the thick head. The pressure, the wonderful feeling of the strong muscle that cranks me up and away. The strength in my balls, the pulse at the head as my hand cups then pulls back from it. The tiny pulls and tiny sharp plucks of my forest of pubic hairs getting caught in my hand. My asshole getting nice and tight. My grip getting tighter as my cock gets harder. When it’s good it’s very good and my cock is a iron putter wrapped in fine silk. My cock is a diving rod pulling my brain this way and that with images and sensations: entering, sucking, licking, biting, beating, feeling, touching, and more, much more.

I love to start the trip to see where it might detour. Start out with a fuck-film in your head, maybe the feeling of that one night, that one day (satin, silk, polyester, latex, leather, cotton, elastic waistbands -- ) and let my cock take me that way that this way through side-trips of past fucks: just that sensation, that picture, that image, that fantasy, that lover, that glimpse, that night (or day). I might start with the Standard Number Four (A) fantasy: big black tits in my face while she jumps on my rigid cock and might end up at in a mobile home somewhere below the Mason-Dixon with a scummy pre-teen (all zits and no tits and gum and smelling of piss and booze) on my face an some guy named Joe-Bob bathing my cock and balls in spit that’s mostly cheap beer.

It’s ain’t so much the destination as it is the trip.

I jerk off when I’m horny. I stroke it when I’m excited. I pull it when I’m turned-on. I also yank it when I’m bored, can’t sleep, have a cold, have a headache, or can’t think of anything else to do (or there’s nothing good on TV). I do it in bed, on the john, in my living room, at my computer (I give good email), in the backyard (that was a fun party), and everywhere in between. I’ve done it driving, in planes, in porno houses, on trains, and when I shouldn’t have been doing it and I’m damned lucky no one caught me.

Don’t act so fucking surprised, either, a lot of you have done a lot worse -- or a lot better.

Stigma? Masturbation should be prayer. It should be the way we show our love for the God/dess in ourselves (how better than to show him/her/it a really good time?). We should have it fucking institutionalized. No more of this bullshit white-haired old men yelling at us from inside their million dollar temples about a hateful god who doesn’t want you to yank it or jill it. Nah, we should tune in every goddamned morning to the right kind of prayer -- ”Put your hands where they belong, Brothers and Sisters, and give unto you the pleasure that is the God/dess’s gift to you -- your genitals. Rub them with me, dear people, and feel the rising power of prayer in you (and remember to clean up afterwards).”

Jerking off should be a fucking sporting event! “Live from the Superbowl the longest ejaculation, most powerful orgasm, most orgasms (women and men’s divisions), most female ejaculate, and quickest (longest takes way too much time for television).” Personally, I favor the San Francisco Queens (got ten bucks riding on them, too).

It should be taught in school, it should be continuing ed, it should be an extracurricular activity (“For today, class, we are going to examine the social, personal, physical repercussions of long fingernails -- ”). It should be part of the glee club (high notes), cheer leading, and shop (bookend, sailboat, coat rack, dildo, butt-plug ...). We should be told and shown how to do it well, safely and effectively.

Maybe it will. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But for certain it is safe, harmless, natural, comfortable common, and -- best above all else -- hellava lot of fun!

I know you masturbate. I know you do, because I do. A lot. So get off it, get on it and --

-- love thyself. Damnit!