For as much as I masturbate, which is a considerable amount, I don't often take as much time I wish to really think through the role that this noble pursuit plays in my life. This blog has been part of the ongoing journey of discovery that I hope we all take, though I confess to you, my readers, that I have somewhat taken the easy route, by posting pictures and snippets of experiences rather than deeper, reasoned thinking about the act and the joy it brings me.
My whole life I have been fortunate not to be plagued by even the slightest guilty feeling about masturbating. It all started when I had the "birds and bees" conversation with my dad -- he was the one who first said that there was absolutely nothing wrong with masturbating, that he masturbated regularly, and encouraged me to take the time to get to know my body, my penis, and to understand my orgasm. In his obligatory way he made sure to say that everyone did it, yet he was also conscious of the fact that few of my friends' fathers would be having quite as frank a conversation about masturbation with them as he was having with me.
I can't tell you how thankful I am for that conversation. While I had already discovered orgasm and ejaculation by then, and didn't feel particularly ashamed about it, I suppose some small part of me wasn't sure if it was totally o.k. both in his eyes and the eyes of society at large. [Little matter: I had already decided that even if masturbation would lead to certain death, there was no way I was going to stop. Ever.] Even that night when I masturbated, I was freer. My legs were a little wider. I was on top of the covers, not underneath them. And I didn't rush to wipe the semen up immediately after my orgasm. I guess I could say that that day, I fully welcomed masturbation into my life.
Of course, this has ebbed and flowed since then. Sharing a college dorm room made regular, fulfilling, masturbation nearly impossible -- not because I had much of a problem being witnessed, but rather because I'm polite enough of a person not to require another to witness my masturbating if they would prefer not to. In time, I would have a room to myself, in which I frequently spent long hours with my penis, learning more and more about what made me tick.
One summer evening in college (I had remained in my college town for a summer class) I encountered a casual acquaintance. We hung out for a while, and as the evening drew to a close, I offered him a ride home. In the car, he allowed that one of his hobbies was jacking off, and that he liked to spend a few hours trying new things, and learning new ways to pleasure himself. He asked me if I was going to masturbate that night. I replied yes, that I masturbated at least twice per day, and often more. He asked if I would like to come up and masturbate with him. And thus my love of sharing the act of masturbation was born. We would masturbate together from time to time over the course of a year.
I continued to masturbate regularly -- both alone and with others -- though the reality of finding real masturbation experts would become painfully clear to me. I moved, had relationships, had other hobbies. With the advent of the Internet, and IRC channels, I grew to be acquainted with other masturbators the world around. Living in an apartment alone, I began to have more and more frequent deep, long masturbation sessions, during which I found true contentedness. Never was I happier than when my fist was wrapped about my well-lubricated shaft.
One day everything changed. I was on a business trip to Washington, DC, and I visited the Lambda Rising bookstore on Connecticut avenue. In the magazine section I found a thin, inexpensively published newsletter called, "Celebrate the Self," which was totally dedicated to male masturbation. Men wrote in missives of their sessions, the connection that they had with masturbation, how they felt, how they practiced, and how masturbation made them better men. I felt like I had found nirvana! While I was connected now with many men who openly masturbated, and accepted that masturbation in their lives, this was a way to connect even more deeply with those who were, like me, more or less dedicated to the practice, and art, of masturbation. Through that newsletter, I joined their contact list, and exchanged letters and phone calls with some truly expert masturbators, and came to own two books by Dr. Harold Litten, "The Joy of Solo Sex" and "More Joy of Solo Sex." I recommend both volumes to anyone who wishes to embark on a real journey of masturbation.
Unfortunately, the Celebrate the Self newsletter ceased publication in 2000. That was a sad time. I shall always be grateful to its publishers for what I learned from it.
Since that time, I have engaged in extended edging (my record for a single non-stop masturbation session is 13 hours with one ejaculation at the end), multiple day edging (daily masturbation for a minimum of 4 hours and only reaching ejaculation after 23 days), group masturbation, once-on-one masturbation, telephone masturbation, on-line masturbation, solitary masturbation, and a few masturbation marathons, one in which I checked into a hotel room and essentially masturbated for 48 hours, taking brief naps, venturing outside for a little food and water, with the rest of the time dedicated to exploring my penis and sexuality in general. I have masturbated in public settings both furtively and openly, and probably no fewer than 2,000 people have seen me achieve orgasm through masturbation.
I would choose no other life, and I hope those reading this column are also on a parallel voyage. I urge you to reflect on your masturbation. Think about your experiences. Evaluate your performance. Develop a real relationship with your penis. Lose yourself in the experience. And share your knowledge and joy with others.