Masturbation

I'd had my finger in a few wet places before I ever fucked. The boy I was once didn't know how much of the female was inside or quite where, being unable to tell the inside of the vulva from the front half-inch of the vulva: and I had no idea of the location, let alone the depth, of the vagina. But still I'd gotten my finger wet well into the vulva and fairly well in the vagina before I ever put the dick in too and then came there. Still, I'd fucked more than a few times before I discovered that even a great fuck is not a complete satisfaction for some women: they want to get fucked and they still want their pussy pulled. Maybe they want to be eaten, and fucked, and then still have their pussy pulled. (What they will not get from me is their pussy pulled, a great fuck, and then eaten. Once I've come there, I don't want to eat there. Not that same day anyway.) (Is any of my come still in the twat the next night? Would I recognize it if I tasted it?) (What I absolutely don't want to eat is some other guy's cum there.) I'd fucked a couple of girls on this and that occasion, and even fucked my favorite more than a half-dozen times on one single occasion, couldn't think of anything we could have left out (still not know the half of it), before I was with my favorite for a second, leisured, multi-bout session—at her place in Boston for a three day weekend, she having thrown her roommates out for the occasion—before my hand was guided to the pussy: a while after the fifth or sixth very-mutual orgasm.

My God ... I haven't been fucked like that since grade school.
Marla Singer, Fight Club

Hmm. Just remembering, trying to remember, something else, something I hadn't meant to tell, just here, just now. Jackie had taken me in her mouth just prior to my putting it in her for the first time. That was my first experience of the dick in the girl's mouth as well as my first real fuck (one entirely voluntary and with a girl I wanted to be with: not one I was sorry I'd made a date with after she puked all over my car, after she wanted me to kiss her after she'd puked, after she wanted me to fuck her after I'd kissed her: and she had the gall to tell me the next week that she was a virgin! A drunk with no memory?) That weekend in Boston I found myself looking very closely at her pussy. There was my first real opportunity to kiss the snatch. I thought of it. She must have felt me thinking it. She had every opportunity to coax me closer. To coax my tongue there: if she's wanted it. If Jackie had coaxed me, I'd have wanted to, for her sake, however little I wanted to at that time in my life for my sake. If cunilingus had been important to her, she would have found a way to hint it. No, Jackie had sucked me: then I fucked her. She sucked me a couple of more times: just prior to slipping it in. These were none of them "blow jobs": they were just preparatory to proper missionary penetration. The sucking was an appetizer (and a lubricant), not the
entré. But there we were, and Jackie was guiding my hand to her pussy.

By the way: my son at high school age gave me a nice distinction which he'd picked up from the women's liberationists: who by the time he was fourteen or fifteen were becoming willing to say things to young males (whereas in my generation, men were excluded from such talk: even the founder of the Free Learning Exchange and promoter of free networking (unless the men went out of their way to act reverse-subservient: women in my experience were not ready for, or capable of, equality). He said that, for males, society talks about penises and testicles; for females, society only talks about vaginas. Uh, so? So the vulva—and with it, female pleasure—is excluded from consideration. Wham! Bulls-eye! Right. It had gotten me too. I never talked about the vulva. I had no separate word for it. So folks, these days, when I say pussy I mean the whole paraphernalia: vagina and vulva. When I say cunt ... uh, I don't say cunt much. Except to curse. Anyway, when I want to be specific I say: vagina here, vulva there. If I say pussy, I'm being general. Kiss the pussy means lick the clit and lick deeper. Finger the clit, shove the dick where it best belongs.

The dick belongs to the female. Isn't it funny that it hangs with the male? The pussy belongs to the male. The female has it only for safe keeping.

Back to pulling-it. Jackie guided my hand. I tried my damndest to touch her exactly how she wanted: to take guidance from her throughout. She had another wonderful little orgasm: all by herself. Except that I thought it was wonderful too: just as I expect women to benefit from my pleasure. Maybe she's not having my earthquake, but she's in it in a sense, even if I'm coming on the ground, my dick in my own hand, my other hand on her breast, or on her butt, maybe her hand on my knee, or her fingers around my balls ... or, she's doing it for me, her fingers wrapped around the shaft, her hand going back and forth, or her mouth: still, she feels the earthquake: she's "in" the earthquake in some sense.

Indeed: that's one of the things that I love about eating: I can concentrate wholly (or almost wholly) on her. I feel her orgasm. Mmmm. Closest I can come to having female experience.

I've simply adored it the few times that women have told me that I made love like a woman (ages 21 and again around 45 to locate at least two).

Now: to my own masturbation. I've already told how I never heard of it until some guy whipped himself in front of me around the eighth grade. I was quite a bit older before I tried it myself, but by age fifteen, I knew it well.

Now: When Jackie had come on my hand, she told me that that kind of an orgasm was "different" somehow: obviously also precious. Me too. Maybe by dint of long practice, maybe by a number of things, no woman can make me come the way I can make myself come. In a good fuck ... it's different again. The woman doesn't make me come; I don't make myself come; the coming comes from "god." But a blow job, or a jerk job ... they're artifacts: made by man: or woman. Anyway, if I'm living with a girl, if I'm married and living at home with my wife, if we fuck every night and sometimes in the morning ... I'll still occasionally need to whip it by hand. Or have her whip it by hand. And no matter how many times she whips it by hand or how well, I'll still need to whip it myself by hand on occasion. I bet Jackie pulled her own pussy for herself after I'd left Boston to go back to NY. I'll bet she was at least "1%" glad to be rid of me however well I'd bowed her legs.

When I was addicted to cigarettes, I'd feel the need for one right in the middle of a cigar. (I never inhaled cigars: or pipe smoke.) There I was, enjoying my cigar: and I'd "need" to suck on a cigarette. There I am, right in the midst of a world-class banquet on the girl's pussy, satisfying myself, and her, left and right, and I'll need to plunge it in her. Suddenly, no oral satisfaction can interfere with the urge to hump from the hips. Overwhelming. So. There's more than one thing in the world.

Thus: I have masturbated at least occasionally from age oh say around fifteen till the present: with one exception. And that was recent. I'd lived with this girl and that girl, and then gotten married—to the girl I was living with—and then lived with this other woman and that other woman: till at age fifty-three I took up with my Darling. Only rarely did we make love more than once a day, never more than three times in a day; but we did make love almost every day, every single day: for years and years. Having made love, I slept in that same double bed. And I think years had passed before I noticed: Jeez: it's been years since I've whipped it. With other women, I'd gone and whipped it when I felt like it: right while they too were in the bed. It didn't matter that I'd fucked them last night: or that they'd whipped it for me the night before. Sometimes you need your own hand. But not with my Darling. Until she got so old that I could no longer get a good night's sleep in her noisy, old-woman's bed: and I stopped sleeping with her: merely visiting her bed regularly.

---

Just had a memory I think I'll mention though it's irrelevant to the things I'd planned for this session at the Macintosh. On more than one occasion I've masturbated while in bed with a woman because she's not cooperating in any sensual joint venture. Girl doesn't want to fuck, that's her business, but if I can't get laid at sleep time, getting the orgasm I need becomes very much my business regardless of whose name is on the lease for the address that contains that bedroom. And on more than one occasion, my activity has warmed the girl to change her mind. "I don't want to make love tonight." "OK. Just turn that way and I'll hump up against your bottom." Humping her bottom, or humping her tits, or whipping it myself ... may just make her stir, get aroused, change her mind. It can be very nice to have your dick sliding with only half satisfaction between a pair of otherwise perfectly lovely buttocks and have the girl stir, slip her panties off, and guide your plunging just a bit lower. It can even happen that she catches up to you after her late start. Hell, getting bumped against the anus may itself be nice for a female.

I hasten to clarify. I have never been in the garbage shoot even of a female let alone that of a male. I was with one woman who kept talking about it: though she was quick to be clear that my size put her off the idea completely in my case: if I weren't me, she would want it. That talk put me off completely. I wasn't with her for long: as desperate as I was for food and shelter while writing my second novel. She had great tits though.

Gives me another thought: once I was at the movies with a Puerto Rican girl I'd helped look for her lost dog. She too was a nut for Japanese film. We were at a double feature: a Kurosawa I knew from several viewings over and a feature by a vastly lesser name. Usually I'm at the movies to concentrate, not to screw around; but this time I couldn't help it. For some reason it was easier for me, given the position we were in and the kind of trousers she was wearing, to put my finger in her ass than in her pussy: either vulva or vagina. I kept realizing I was off target, tried again, and it kept going into her ass. She was writhing around to it just the same so I finally gave up and left it there. I didn't even need to move my hand. Once she warmed to that presence in her ass, she warmed indeed, and she thrashed herself to a shuddering climax right there in the Riviera Theater on Broadway. I was just moving from one place on Riverside to another: corner of 103^rd. I'd yet moved nothing, not a rug, not a chair, not one stick of furniture. But I had the key. After the movie we went and rutted on the floor. I've fucked here and there but only twice on a hard floor without so much as a towel underneath us. Four times I fucked her: that's on top of her orgasm in the theater. Come to think of it, I'd shown her my empty apartment before the movie time approached. She'd had me by the balls. When she crawled away to reach for her purse or something, she showed me one hell of a lovely rear end pussy target and I'd lush-smacked her bulls-eye right below her buttocks. I am hardly an ass kisser, but that time came close. At least she had on a couple of layers of cloths. The only thing open at that point had been my fly.

Also just remembered: After the fourth fuck we were really sore. And sticky. We took a bath in my "new" tub: even though there was not a towel in the house: not so much as a handkerchief, and certainly no soap. Wiped the water off with our fingers and just got dressed again: in time for dawn.