Having It All: My Masturbation Lifestyle

We can celebrate our own individual solo sex without hesitation, doubt or shame, coupled with the beauty of the other person’s display and pleasure.

I am a 71 year old bisexual male; a passionate masturbator married for 50 years to a wonderful woman who also appreciates the joys and benefits of solo love.  It just doesn’t get any better.  But let’s start at the beginning.

At age 12, I was introduced to masturbation by the kid next door, who was slightly older than me.  It was a sweltering August day and I was sweeping out the garage wearing nothing but cut-offs and sneakers.  In walks the neighbor boy and he sidles right up to me and asks,”Hey, you know how to jack off?”  I had no idea what he meant, but he was quite eager to inform me.  He took out his teenage boner and began stroking it with what I call a “pencil grip;” thumb atop the penis, index finger below and the other fingers curled in toward the palm.  I watched with wide eyes as he worked his slender, rigid erection back and forth, working just under and over the rim of the glans.  “Do like this,” he urged and I pulled out my own young cock, which was already excited and beginning to grow.  I imitated his style and felt, for the first time, sexual electricity surging through my body.  I felt like a scientist, discovering some new kind of energy.

Later that day, at bedtime, I kicked down the covers, slid my light cotton pajama pants to my ankles and took hold of my young cock.  Again using the grip I was shown, I began stroking away. Quickly, I had an erection like a hammer handle. Not knowing exactly what I was doing, I began stroking faster.  And faster. Pretty soon my right hand was going up and down like a sewing machine.  For some reason I flexed my legs and pointed my toes.  And that’s when it happened.  My first “dry” orgasm.  I swear, I saw stars.  I was transported. It was a delicious electricity that originated from my cock that went through me from head to toe.  At that point, lacking the full knowledge and understanding of what I’d experienced, I knew in some amateurish fashion that I would pursue this phenomenon for the rest of my life.

Fortunately for me, there were several other young lads in the neighborhood who were also discovering the joys of penile pleasure, and two of them became devoted ‘bate buddies.  One would join me for sleep-overs and he would bring with him Playboy magazines that he borrowed from his older brother’s collection.  We go deep into the night – under the guise of watching classic sci-fi movies – stroking our cocks to the Playboy models, comparing our cocks, stroking each other.  It was exciting but it was above all, educational.  We weren’t doing anything dangerous or unhealthy; just exploring our bodies, trying to understand the wonderful feelings we could create.

The other ‘bate buddy was a Cuban-American boy that – I swear – had the cock of a grown adult.  I’d been to the municipal swimming pool many times, and I’d seen all varieties of penises and this kid had a showpiece. Easily twice the size of my erection, standing tall from a thick bush of black pubic hair, and when he ejaculated, it was like a fountain.  He and I spent countless hours on the couch when my parents were away, engaged in an almost clinical study of masturbation.  Different grips, different styles.  It was a great time to be alive.

Fast forward to graduation and I met a girl who was demure on the outside, but a firecracker behind closed doors. Again, like most young lovers, we fucked often and most anywhere we could.  On the couch, in bed, on the grass, at the beach, in the front seat of the car at the drive-in movie.  We fucked with animal-like energy and quickly segued to the joys of oral sex.  And then came the evening when we broached the topic of masturbation.

We had been partying a bit; we were a little tipsy and under the influence of Mother Nature.  She was looking hot in her tie-top and cutoffs.  I was horny.  I asked her, “So…..just how do you ‘do it?'”

She agreed to show me, but insisted that I had to go first.

Hey, no problem!  I dropped my shorts to the floor and went to work on my handsome boner.  Because of all the excitement of the moment, my demonstration probably didn’t last all that long, but it was a good one, nonetheless.  I proudly displayed my throbbing cock and pumped-out a nice thick load, trying not to blast it all over the carpet.

She was delighted to see me masturbate for her and she wasted no time in pulling down her own shorts and panties, and showing me just how she paddled her pink canoe.  Now again, both of us were still novices at solosex, but we knew how to push the right buttons.  Her fingers began moving back and forth on her clit, and quickly, her hand became a blur as she launched herself into ecstasy, then collapsing on the couch.

Wow. This was incredible. The only thing better than getting-off was getting-off together!

What followed was a lot of conversation about masturbation; how often we liked doing it, what kinds of things aroused us and – most importantly – that neither of us had any intentions of abandoning masturbation, just because we had unlimited opportunity for intercourse and oral.  Masturbation was something special, just like other kinds of sex. 

The bottom line to all of this is that we talked about it.  We never tried to disguise the fact that no matter how much we fucked, we still enjoyed getting ourselves off.  She never suggested that my only form of sexual satisfaction should be her vagina.  And I certainly wasn’t offended or challenged that she might use a dildo that was larger than me.

But through it all, masturbation was this strong, connecting thread. We never masturbates more when we weren’t fucking and neither did we masturbate less if we were fucking.  Each kind of sex had its own place on the table and we gave each the respect it deserved.

Also important is the fact that we allowed one another the “space” necessary to enjoy and explore our individual solo sex. If she went out to tend to some errands or shopping, she’d let me know about how long she’d be gone and frequently, she’d call home to let me know she was on her way back.   She KNEW I’d likely be masturbating and respected that.

We’ve been joyously sharing masturbation for 50 years and it just seems to get better all the time.  The porn, the toys, the lubes.  We love watching one another display their colorful, aroused genitals and then stimulate them to orgasm.  And boy, does she orgasm!  Her first one is like a randy adolescent; quick and hard.  And then she begins building on the next one.  And the next one.  Usually about six of them per session.  And she’s done more than that.  I do the best I can to edge and hang in there as long as possible.  Sometimes, shooting my cum on her thigh or pussy will help her trigger an orgasm.  It’s truly beautiful.

But what I’m really overcome by is this overwhelming sense of freedom, of liberation.  The fact that we can celebrate our own individual solo sex without hesitation, doubt or shame, coupled with the beauty of the other person’s display and pleasure.

Yes, I was fortunate to have found someone who appreciates solo sex like I do, but things would not have blossomed as they have, had we not honestly broached the topic.

Masturbation is healthy, it’s fun, it feels fantastic, and in today’s crazy world, it actually helps keep us sane. I truly believe that.

So, that’s my story, folks.  Keep joyously jacking and jilling out there.  Be safe.  Be happy.

What is your story? Your masturbation lifestyle? Let me know below!

Written by Bateworld member maturebator1949