Monday, May 26, 2003
May is Masturbation month. In celebration of this wonderful event, I have written a couple of short stories, which I hope you will enjoy.
Masturbation . . . it's a good thing
Part I - How it Began
Working in the sex industry has helped me obtain a more healthy view on sexuality and masturbation . . . despite what most people may think, or think is possible.
I started masturbating at a relatively young age. This was due to the fact that I had my first sexual encounter at age eight with another little girl close to my age. She was my stepmother's niece and I had only met her a couple of times prior to this event.
Our first encounter happened during a sleepover at her house. We had our pajamas on and were lying in sleeping bags on her bedroom floor. She asked me if I wanted to play a game. I did not know what she had in mind, but I agreed just the same. She climbed out of her sleeping bag and laid on top of it. She pulled down her pajama bottoms and motioned for me to come closer.
I got out of my sleeping bag and sat down next to her. I noticed that she did not have any underwear on. She parted her legs and reached down between them. She told me to look as she pulled back on her skin down there, revealing her clit. I specifically remember focusing in on what appeared (at the time) to be a small flesh colored pea, coming out of the clit and resting atop of the place where the inner lips begin. I looked on in amazement as I hadn't yet discovered this on my own body.
She asked me if I wanted to touch it. At that age, I didn't see why not . . . so I did. She told me to move my finger around on her clit and then to tap it in a rythmic motion. I don't remember her moaning or anything like that. She didn't even say it felt good. After a while, she said we could switch, meaning she would do it to me for a while. I pulled down my pajama bottoms and let her touch me. I remember feeling sensitive towards her touch, but I do not remember it feeling really good the first time. We switched back and forth this way a couple of times until we got tired and fell asleep.
After that night, we had a couple of different experiences (we called this making out), which culminated in me having my first orgasm. We were at my house under the front porch (it was a fully enclosed area with a little door . . . used for storage). I don't remember where the adults were, but we were alone under there. There was an old piece of padding that I laid down on. I undid my pants and pulled them down, along with my panties, to my ankles. We started playing "the game". She began rubbing my clit in a circular motion. I remember being conscious of holding my breath. I felt light headed . . . like I was going to pass out, but I felt it peaking and I didn't want to let go of my breath.
Something instinctual was taking over that I was too young to understand. She told me that she was getting tired and that it was my turn to do it to her. I asked her not to stop . . . just do it a little longer. Just when I couldn't hold my breath any longer, the orgasm came and I will never forget that moment. It felt as though I had left my body and everything was wonderful.
I don't remember playing the game after that day, or seeing the girl again. My father ended up divorcing my stepmother and I lost all contact with that part of my family. Looking back, I wonder what happened to that little girl. I hope she did not gain the knowledge she shared with me by being molested. I do not feel like I was molested in any way. We were both kids experimenting as far as I'm concerned and I will always remember her fondly.
I never tried playing the game with anyone else as a child. I did, however, start exploring my own body and this began my lifelong (well . . . up until three years ago) love/guilt relationship with masturbation.
I can remember painfully, the first time I was told masturbation was bad. I was about nine years old and I was lying in my bed one night. I was touching myself under the covers when my mom walked in the room and turned on the light. She said she heard something and wanted to know what I was doing. I don't remember my response. She must have noticed where my hands were because see asked me to show them to her. I pulled my hands from beneath the covers and held them out to her. She bent over and smelled them and asked if I had been touching myself down there. I don't remember exactly how I responded, but I remember what she said.
She told me that what I did was bad and not to do it again. She told me to go wash my hands and then get back in bed. I went to bed feeling really dirty that night.
My mother never talked to me about masturbation after that night. The guilt that I experienced prompted me to try to abstain from masturbating. I can remember counting the days I could go before I gave into my desires. If I did fall off the masturbation wagon, I would go on a binge and then feel really bad about myself. I would abstain again for several days and then the cycle would repeat itself over and over again. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me ... that other kids didn't do this, or at least to this extent. This cycle continued into my teenage years.
When I was about 11, I discovered my step-dad's Playboy stash. This was quite a collection and included several vintage issues, which I was (unfortunately) too young to appreciate. I use to sneak copies into my bedroom and look at them. I looked at the pictures slack-jawed . . . in awe of their fully developed bodies. Their breasts were so perfectly round and firm like ripe fruit and their skin was flawless. I was especially interested in the thick dark bushes between their legs. I would look for the pictures revealing the clit or the lips and would bring my face as close as possible to see every detail. I couldn't keep from touching myself when it came to the pictures of the girls licking and kissing each other all over. After I was done, I would carefully return the issue to its rightful place. I did this periodically and fortunately, never got caught.
When I was about 13, I discovered late night HBO. I was staying with my dad. He was a really cool guy growing up. He let me do pretty much whatever. I was a good kid and stayed out of trouble so he didn't enforce many rules. He would go to bed fairly early and leave me to watch t.v. by myself. On one particular evening, I stayed up later than normal watching HBO and to my suprise and utter delight, a movie called, "Emanuelle" came on. This was the first time I watched soft porn and I was enthralled. My hands made their way under the blanket and continued down the front of my pajama bottoms until they reached my still smooth pussy. I was wet with excitement and came within minutes of my touch. I watched these movies whenever I got the chance, which wasn't very often. My favorites were the foreign ones that were dubbed in English. Scenes from these movies played over and over in my head and became my favorite masturbation material.
My pre-occupation with masturbation ebbed slightly as I made my way further into my teenage years. I guess this coincided with the discovery of boys. I lost my virginity at age 16 and my obsession with self-gratification switched to that of mutual gratification. I had become like an old lover with myself, finding more excitement in another's touch.
I found that excitement in myself again as an adult when I started working at The Lusty Lady in Seattle.
Working at The Lusty Lady was one of the most remarkable times of my life . . . as far as self-discovery goes. Never have I felt more comfortable or accepted as being my sexual self uninhibited. It was a place where you could express your deepest secrets, fears, fantasies, etc. I soon realized that my self-prognosed sexual deviancy was totally irrational and based on unhealthy sexual beliefs I picked up as a child.
I now believe that masturbation is one, if not the most, important forms of self-love there is. To the girls at The Lusty Lady, thank you, thank you, thank you for helping me find myself again.
Part II - Jackapalooza
(Cute girls play with Sybian)
Last May, me and my partner in crime, attended an event called, "Jackapalooza". This event was sponsored by The Wet Spot in Seattle, which is a local sex positive community center for adults.
My boyfriend and I are members of this club, but do not attend very many events. We were drawn to the club initially because we are both quite fascinated with the sexual underground and comtemplated writing about our experiences there . . . as well as at other sex clubs. We heard the Wet Spot was hosting this event to celebrate masturbation month and thought it would be an interesting event to attend and possibly write about.
The event started in the early afternoon, which we found peculiar. Most of the events there start in the evening and attending a sex event so early is almost like going to a night club at 1:00 in the afternoon.
We arrived bright and early and found that the center was already buzzing with activity. There was one area of the room where televisions played porn movies and some people were seated in front of them watching. There were several rows of chairs near the front of the room which faced a platform, on which a bed sat.
There was a room designated for a Sybian, which the club had rented. A Sybian is a very expensive sexual device (around $2,000.00) that is designed to deliver an amazing orgasm. It is a fairly large device that resembles a saddle. On top of the saddle there is a vibrator attached that you put inside yourself as you straddle the machine. The vibrator also moves in a circlular motion as it delivers its pulsating vibes, while a hump towards the front of the saddle puts pressure and vibrates on your clit. There are different attachments for the Sybian to meet your every need. There were staff on hand in the Sybian room to answer questions and to assist people if they wanted to try it out. Everything was sanitary and the staff made sure there was a protective layer between the person and the Sybian at all times and that this layer was changed after each use.
There was another room designated for masturbation called the "Jack and Jill Room". This was a room where you could masturbate with other people (both girls and boys).
In the very back, there was a large room filled with beds where you could fuck and suck, or do whatever. It is designed for couples . . . no singles allowed, unless you are invited by another couple.
One of the coolest things about The Wet Spot is their library. It is the largest sex library in Washington and possibly one of the largest in the nation. If you are a member, you can check out books and movies, just like any other library and their selection is wonderful. Since it was early and people were still strolling in, we thought we would look at some books. I picked up The Ethical Slut by Easton/Liszt and scanned the pages . . . very interesting read. We looked at some nude photography books together and checked out the video selection.
In the background, we heard someone talking over the crowd so we went to find a seat as the event was starting. We sat towards the back to get a better view of the group, as well as the speaker. The majority of the people attending this event were middle-aged couples and middle-aged single men. We were amongst the youngest people in attendance and we were in the minority.
For whatever reason, there is a large population of REALLY heavy women that attend The Wet Spot. I haven't attended enough events to know why this is. I imagine they've found this to be a safe and accepting environment for them to express themselves freely. I'm not bothered by their full figures . . . although I worry about their health. I'm also a nudist so I'm probably more accepting of all body types because of this.
I've also noticed that there are not very many exceptionally attractive people that are members here. In looking around the room, I saw a couple attractive people here and there, but mostly just average middle-aged people. I thought it was also unfortunate that not many young people attend events here. I wondered if it was because they didn't know this place existed, or because they just weren't interested. On the contrary, I've heard that New Horizons (a swingers club North of Seattle) is packed with young hot people . . . so maybe it's just the venue.
Most of the people in attendance were dressed. Some were scantly clad, but had something on nevertheless. There were some men towards the front that just had towels around their lower section. It looked as though they had just gotten out of the shower or something.
The speaker talked about masturbation month a little and then explained the different themed rooms. He pointed to the room where the Sybian was and talked about that for a while. He then introduced a woman who was going to read to us from an erotic novel. She walked up front and greeted us with a lovely smile. She had a short dark bob hairstyle and wore glasses. She looked like a sexy librarian. She opened her book and started reading. Her voice reminded me of the librarian who reads stories to the kids at the local library on Saturday mornings. The words she spoke, however, were quite different. They were words that made you a little uncomfortable . . . especially hearing them in a room full of strangers.
I looked around the room and saw that a couple of guys were masturbating in plain view, while she read. The gentleman that had opened the event was now laying on the bed placed on the stage behind the woman reading. He stood up and took his pants off and then laid back down on the bed. He began masturbating too. Two women joined him on the bed. Things started happening and I started thinking how surreal this all was.
One of the women laid right next to the man on the bed. She undressed and then turned over on her back, facing away from the audience. The head of the bed rested against the back wall. She lifted her legs and placed her feet apart on the wall. She reached over on the bed and grabbed her vibrator. She spread her legs and the vibrator disappeared between her legs. She was a heavier woman. Her ass raised off the bed and she started rolling her hips in a rythmic motion. Her head turned to one side, her lips pursed, and her eyes closed. Her free hand squeezed her right breast. The flesh rolled and bunched up in her hand.
The woman next to her had a orange-blonde flat-top. She was tall and thin and had an athletic build. She was slightly masculine looking. She started taking off her clothes. Her naked body was covered with tattoos and piercings. She laid down a sheet on her part of the bed and sat back on top of it in the lotus position. She opened a case that was sitting next to her on the bed. It folded out like a tackle box. She laid a towel out in front of her and started taking some of the items out of the case. From where I was sitting, the items looked like surgical instruments. They flashed silver in the light as she placed each one neatly in a row. She then reached down next to the bed and picked up a spray bottle and some washcloths. There was a stand next to the bed and she placed a red-orange container on top of it. It reminded me of the hazardous material containers that doctors dispose used needles in.
She picked up the spray bottle and sprayed a fine mist on the top of her right arm. She then picked up one of the items off the towel. It appeared to be a large needle with a feather at the end. She brought the needle to the top of her arm and proceeded to stick it just underneath the skin a little ways and then back out through the other side of the skin. She left the needle in her arm and the feather flopped about as she retrieved another one. She repeated this procedure on the other arm and then went on to insert needles through both breasts . . . above her nipples. Before each insertion of the needle, she sprayed the area. I thought this must sterilize and maybe numb the site.
The woman then sprayed her chest and picked up another tool off the towel. It was a razor blade. I held my breath for a moment and turned to look at my boyfriend. I could tell he was feeling the same way. The previous piercings were a little difficult to watch, but it was almost tribal or ritualistic in nature so it did not bother me as much. I knew this next phase would push my tolerance and comfort level.
The woman pressed the blade into the flesh of her chest and made two precise slashes. The slashes became more pronounced as the blood started to reach the surface. There was not much blood from the previous piercings, but now blood trickled down from the fresh slashes in her chest. It started to mix with the spray and seemed to exaggerate the amount coming out.
She continued to make more slashes on her chest and breasts. Little rivers of blood split and transversed, making their way around curves and bends of white flesh. The rivers seem to meet again between her legs.
At this point, the woman put down the razor and I relaxed a little. She laid on her back, facing us, and reached both hands between her legs. Her legs fell apart, one to each side, and her pussy and inner thighs were smeared with blood. It looked like she had started her period. She proceeded to masturbate in her own blood, smearing it further and further. She seemed to find great pleasure in seeing so much blood all over her.
I quickly zoomed out, seeing everyone on the bed now. Everyone was still masturbating. The man on the bed was hanging on to every word the woman read. She had her back to them and I wondered if she had any idea what was going on behind her.
I felt like I was part of a John Waters or David Lynch movie. I had never seen anything like this before.
The woman reading finally finished her stories. The group on the bed started to collect themselves. The man got up and put his pants back on. The larger woman rolled over and dressed as well. The woman practicing blood-letting, took the needles out of her body and disposed of them in the mini bio-hazard container she had brought. She went on to clean herself up and her area. She took all the sheets off the bed to ensure no blood got on anything.
Everyone got out of their seats and started mingling. I'm sure I wasn't the only one in the room eager to move on to something else. Some people made their way to various themed rooms and some made trips to the bathroom and ever popular snack table (a plethora of chips, dips and candy). My boyfriend and I found a quiet corner and discussed what we just witnessed. We both agreed that the blood-letting was disturbing and as sex-positive and open-minded as we are, we could not see how this could be healthy. Nevertheless, we were glad we came overall. If for any reason, it was extremely interesting and would make for a good story.
My boyfriend started teasing me about trying out the Sybian. I've heard wonderful things about the Syban, but didn't want to try it out there . . . especially in front of a bunch of strangers. We decided to at least go check it out so we made our way over to the designated Sybian room. The room was small and dimly lit. There was a woman acting as an aide, sitting down next to the machine who greeted us. She was there to answer any questions we might have or to help us if we wanted to try it out. We explained that we were not interested in trying out the machine, but we did ask her some questions.
Some people noticed that we were in the Sybian room and started to come over to see if we were going to use it. We stepped back to make it obvious that we weren't. Other people started coming to check out the machine and to ask questions, but no one seemed to want to try it out. A nice looking older couple stepped into the room and started talking to the aide. The aide started to prepare the Sybian for the couple.
The woman started to undress in front of us. They were leaving the door to the room open for us to watch. A crowd formed around the door. The woman stood over the Sybian, while her partner squatted in front of her, holding her hands. She slowly lowered herself down towards the machine. She paused for a moment to ease the vibrator inside her. The aide talked to her a little more and then turned on the machine. It made a loud humming noise and the woman started moaning almost immediately. Her partner lovingly wrapped his arms around her, while she road the machine.
There was a guy sitting on his knees practically in the room with them. He was leaning forward towards the woman and masturbating, while watching her. I had this urge to kick him in the back of the head. I mean . . . they obviously wanted to be watched, but this guy was just being plain rude.
The woman continued to ride the machine for about five minutes. Her body started to shake all over. Her body tensed and moved forward. She squeezed her husband as she let out a guttural moan. Her partner held her, while she recovered. It was a lovely sight to behold. Everyone cleared the doorway and the couple left the room.
My boyfriend asked if I changed my mind about riding the Sybian. He teased me, saying I might not get the chance ever again. I was curious, but didn't like the idea of sharing the machine with people I didn't know, even if there was a barrier that they changed after each use.
As we discussed this, a guy started walking towards us. It was the creepy guy I wanted to kick in the head. He came over and sat down right next to me on the couch. He started asking us questions, while leering at me. He was there by himself and was obviously looking to hook up with someone. He asked me if I was going to try the Sybian. I told him that I wasn't. I got up and went to the bathroom to get away from the creep. When I came back out, my boyfriend was waiting for me sans the creep.
We stood there for a moment contemplating leaving. We heard the Sybian start up again, but the door to the room was closed. I joked that I was bummed about someone being in there . . . that I did want to try it out. After a couple of minutes of the machine going, we started hearing these horrible sounds coming through the walls of the room. They were deep and loud grunting noises . . . and they were male The machine started lagging a little like it was under some pressure. All of a sudden, a huge roar was heard throughout the building. It sounded like a monster and I couldn't help but turn my head and laugh.
A couple minutes later, the door to the Sybian room opened and out came a man. This was no ordinary man. This was a 350lb+, 6 ft+, mean looking biker dude. He had long gray hair with a matching beard and mustache. His body was covered with tattoos and piercings. He walked by us naked and breathless towards the water cooler to get a drink. He walked with a slight limp and we noticed his ass cheeks had a nice pink mark from where he was riding the Sybian.
My boyfriend turned to me and smiled, "your turn." "Yeah, right," I smiled back. We left shortly thereafter and had some good laughs on the ride home.
Part III - The Technique
It seems surreal at times to think part of my job is to watch guys masturbate. I probably witness an average of ten guys masturbating a day (50 guys a week) . . . well, besides my boyfriend (heh, heh). Needless to say, I've learned a lot about male masturbation. I was suprised to find how many different techniques there are. (cont.)
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