FOREWORD (6 page)

A boy can afford to do things mother might not like because one of his goals is to establish exactly how
unlike
her he is. When he goes out with his friends, he gets reinforcement from all the other guys – they, too, are fighting identification with mother. Masturbation may be the great female secret, but it becomes a rite in male bonding. Breaking mother’s rules and finding that despite her warnings the experience is not awful – you don’t go blind, but feel pleasure instead – reinforces the notion that it pays to make up your own mind about what is good or bad. Privacy may be difficult to find at home – mother changes the sheets, launders your clothes, and goes through your bureau drawers – but it is worth fighting for. To be independent pays off directly in sexual pleasure. “I jerked off twice yesterday.” “Oh, yeah?

Three times for me!” “Let’s go behind the garage and do it some more, right now!” No wonder so many men in this book Men In Love

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recall early group masturbation with such enormous satisfaction.

Nevertheless, inhibitions established early in life can never be put totally to rest. In fact, I often think proliferation of girlie magazines is a result of this problem. The flagrant covers seem to be saying, “Don’t be guilty about a fantasy of naked women and playing with yourself. Millions of other guys who buy this magazine are doing the same thing.” It is a message that combines bragging and daring, making the customer feel he’s not some poor lonely soul jerking off because no girl is available to him; instead, he’s but one of an army of sexy, go-to-hell men who don’t mind having a bit of fun any way they can.

We have come a long way from the early part of this cen-tury, when masturbation was considered so physically harmful and morally reprehensible that even the Boy Scout manual (1910-1945) warned against it.

And yet if times are changing, I do not believe they are changing as rapidly as most people think. Clifton (below) is only nineteen, born well after World War II – but he describes his parents as “puritanical.” Is it surprising he says he is “embarrassed” by his own sexuality? Hal (below), too, is so inhibited that he performs a kind of masturbation I’d only heard about before from women. In a kind of sly maneuver that is obedient on the surface but rebellious beneath, the parental admonition against touching the genitals is taken literally. Lester (above) rubs himself against the sheets. No hands, no guilt. Don (below) goes so far as to tell us his mother would become “hysterical” if she found evidence of his masturbation. Is it surprising that he married “a nice girl” who does not like sex?

If many parents today have learned to speak with a certain tolerance about autoeroticism, one senses that in their gut they feel some of their mother’s anxiety. We are all our parents’ children. Jud (below) tells us that one of his favorite fantasies is to imagine women applauding his masturbation.

A member of the female sex once made him feel guilty about Nancy Friday

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it; to have women “cheer him on” instead, now that he is grown, is supremely satisfying. Research in child rearing today defines masturbation not as an embarrassing phase the child will outgrow if left alone, but as a “normal” part of sexual growth. I have rarely heard even the most enlightened parent recognize masturbation as a mighty force for independence.

CLIFTON

I am a nineteen-year-old college student and I am rather quiet around most people until I really get to know them. I come from a farm and pretty puritanical parents so, even though I have very strong sexual feelings, I always felt somewhat embarrassed by them. I have had two sexual experiences, so I’m not a virgin, but they were emotionless and unfulfilling.

I suppose fantasy has always played an important part in my life. My favorite fantasy is about this girl who lives in my dorm. She lives on the same floor that I live on. Although we’ve never met, I found out from someone that she kind of digs me because she thinks I look like Elton John (which I do).

My fantasy is that some night, I would walk by her door and hear Elton John music playing real loud inside. I would open the door without her knowledge and see her lying in her bed in only a little light and staring at a picture of Elton John (of course she has no clothes on). She’s rocking back and forth to the music and I can tell that he really turns her on.

Gently I take the picture away from her and she’s so wrapped up in him that she thinks I am Elton John. She pulls me on top of her. I start kissing her with my tongue and everything and touching her all over her gorgeous little body.

She just moans a lot and spreads her legs apart. Then we fuck for all we’re worth and I have a shattering climax. When she Men In Love

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comes, she screams out “ELTON!!!” loudly and holds on to me tightly.

Even though I have been told before that I look a lot like Elton John, after I found out that she really got off on Elton John, most of my fantasies have centered around being him, on stage, at parties, and in bed.

HAL

My wife asked me to send in the fantasy that I used to have before I knew her or even went to bed with another girl.

When I fantasized in my dad’s house, I would masturbate stomach down on the bed, rubbing myself on the sheet. I was very quiet so no one might hear and I always felt guilty.

I am twenty and my wife is nineteen. We’ve been married one year, but had sexual relations for three years. This was my fantasy: There is a back door to my room where during the night a strange girl happens to slip quietly through. She sneaks slowly across the floor to my bed where I am sound asleep but I wake up as she is carefully lifting the blankets and I feel her presence. I am not sure why she is here so I pretend to be asleep, while she crawls beneath the covers to my hardening cock. I feel intense desire as her hot mouth comes closer and closer until it envelops my dick. She sucks my rod with burning passion until I shoot my semen into her waiting mouth. Then she slips out of the bed with a satisfying look in her eye, turns and leaves as quietly as she came.

DON

Masturbation is gradually gaining social acceptance as a legitimate sexual practice, but I am often amazed by the number of men who feel positively threatened by it, both in themselves as well as in their wives or girl friends.

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I am a male of fifty-eight, middle-class background, university, etc., who discovered at age four that the square “trap door” seat in a child’s pajama sleeper made playing with himself very difficult. The repeatedly torn-off buttons were the clue which attested to this activity – a near-hysterical mother, the beginnings of perpetual guilt complexes, etc. I’m sure you get the picture. This heavy burden of guilt stayed with me all through childhood and adolescent years until at age twenty-seven, the cloud was miraculously lifted by a girl friend who willingly confided that she had also been enjoying masturbation for years and felt certain that everybody did it.

Now for fantasies. I have never used them during intercourse, but they have always been a necessity for masturbation. At age four or five with no sexual experience to draw on, I used anything that seemed to have (although I didn’t know the words then) sexual, anal or genital significance.

Over the years, my best fantasies were really nothing more than the memory of a “good” experience or a good experience embellished only slightly. One of the earliest of these and the very first that invoked a female occurred one night when my parents were out and the maid, May, was to bathe me and put me to bed. I had enjoyed the warm slipperiness of her soapy hand around my genitals which she prolonged somewhat more generously than my mother ever did. When she had dried me off and put me into the hated sleeper, my child’s instinct made a daring decision. Indicating that she should leave the trap door unbuttoned, I led the way to my bedroom, leaned back against the headboard and unasham-edly masturbated to orgasm in front of May, who made no attempt to stop me but simply sat on the foot of the bed and watched. I suppose it took about ten minutes. Being able to get at my cock without the usual restriction of clothing had made it unique. Once, May asked me if it felt nice. When it was over, she tucked me in, kissed me good night, and told me I was naughty but that her girl friend’s little brother often did the same thing. She never gave me away to my mother, and the experience was never repeated, but it became my Men In Love

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favorite fantasy for masturbation for a long, long time. Only years later did I come to understand the meaning of the flushed avid (envious?) look on May’s face as I brought myself off!

Having no sisters, I was always wildly curious about girls.

By the time I got to kindergarten I invented the fantasy of being bathed with another child. (I was in fact often bathed with my kid brother.) In the fantasy, my mother would miraculously leave the bathroom and my little brother and I with our bodies all nicely soapy slippery would stand up and embrace each other, bringing our genitals into opposition with each other. I must have used this fantasy for more than a year. In my mind, I went from my brother to other boys and ultimately to girls. The latter seemed to be the most fun even though at that age, I imagined them to have penises tool Female teachers when they were pretty were finally the greatest turn on, because being older they knew more about it. In these fantasies, I don’t recall that my imaginary partner reached climax, but I always did. When I discovered, thanks to a maid who exposed herself to me while urinating, that girls were “different,” the fantasy took a whole new turn, even though I didn’t know then that girls had a very special place for a penis to fit.

By age twenty, still a virgin, I had had a succession of enchanting teen-age affairs – but since nice girls didn’t have sexual organs and certainly didn’t fuck, I didn’t even attempt to fondle a breast or introduce “French” kissing. I didn’t even feel free to fantasize my latest love for masturbation purposes, usually resorting to her sister or one of her less attractive girl friends instead. One’s love had to be kept on a special pedestal.

Age twenty-seven was a turning point, however, when I finally discovered that nice girls did have sexual organs, some at least liked to fuck and masturbate, and by thirty I had discovered one lovely girl who in response to my sucking her pussy to orgasm insisted on returning the favor. This incident is still one of my favorite fantasies even though it happened Nancy Friday

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almost thirty years ago. This is particularly true in view of the fact that the girl I ultimately married turned out to have a very low sex drive, would have no part of oral sex – active or passive – and would fuck in only the missionary position.

Sexually our marriage went from bad to worse and although it has endured for twenty-seven years, there has been no sex whatsoever for more than five years. Masturbation has been the only thing that saved me from the nuthouse.

In closing, I might say that in general I feel that I am probably “worse” than “most men.” On the other hand, while that may be true, there are probably quite a few who are just as “bad” as I am.

JUD

I am fifty-one years old and a widower of three months. I spend a lot of time on the road away from home and naturally resort to masturbation to relieve my sexual tensions, and that’s about once a day even at my age. My wife and I had a fairly good sex life, we tried almost everything possible and learned more as time went by.

But enough, for now to my fantasy.

The one most often that comes to mind is thinking why women don’t have doe parties like men have stag shows.

Then I wonder what a woman’s reaction would be if I performed for them. In my mind there are about six or eight women fully dressed (I prefer them in dresses and not in pants). I am totally nude in front of them. They look me over and discuss with each other what they like about a man. Then after a while I spread two sheets of newspaper lengthwise in front of me on the floor and then kneel at one end and the women place their marks on the paper and place a bet on how far I can ejaculate and the one that comes closest wins the bet. I then proceed to masturbate while they watch and cheer me on.

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I have realized my fantasy once with my wife. I so enjoyed the look of fascination on her face while she watched me masturbating, that when I finally came, it shot out of me with such force that we were both surprised and the furthest drop away from me was two feet eight inches. I’ve tried this many times by myself but could not come close to it.

To continue with my fantasy: After this, the women are more relaxed and more eager to look me over and touch me and examine me closer and of course this is needed to get me ready for the next part. When I am ready again, I lay down on a table where all the women can get around and be ready.

Now they each take turns in masturbating me for one minute at a time and the one that makes me come when she has her hand on my penis wins the pot.

At times this fantasy varies with me licking their pussies in whatever position they desire while others watch. This is one reason I prefer dresses and if they wear stockings held up by garter belts, so much the better.

If I have no feminine companionship I enjoy masturbation.

When I have a chance to relax by myself, I like to be completely nude laying on the bed, reading a good sex book.

With one hand slowly jerking and manipulating my penis and at times varying the speed, I can have an erection for hours.

Finally when I am ready, I put the book down and fantasize and concentrate on what I am doing and have a real strong ejaculation.

If a marriage is going badly, the husband often throws himself into his work, but may masturbate when alone. Not so his wife. Her therapist may encourage her to masturbate; perhaps she will read one of the new permission-giving books on female sexuality. But she has trouble with the idea. Sex and love have always been synonymous in her mind. Telling her to masturbate now is like telling her to get used to substituting self-stimulation for the love of another person. She also feels let down after all these years of living up to her Nancy Friday