Retrospective: The Bate in the 80’s

In the 80s there was no Bateworld. No web. Just phones or paper and pen.

In the early part of the decade, I came to the realization that I was a masturbator, that masturbation was my preferred sexual act. I didn’t seem to know any other masturbators, though; not in the sense that I was. Still, I thought there had to be others, so I put a few personal ads in some gay sex publications looking for other masturbators. I referred to myself as a “j/o artist” and gave them a p.o. box number to contact me. I got many responses, most of whom didn’t seem to understand the concept because they mainly wrote me about wanting to suck and fuck etc. But a few got the idea and I started a correspondence with some of them. I kept the best bits, but over the years it all got buried in the back of my closet and I kind of forgot about them until the other day when I was doing some spring cleaning and what should I come across but a box of this correspondence–letters from and to me about my and their masturbatory lives at the time. It might be interesting for some of you to read and see what the life of a solosexual was like back then.

Here is the first I’ll share. One of my best correspondents lived far from me. I had told him that I liked to go to porn theaters and masturbate either alone or with others. He said he did too and wanted to hear about my latest. The following is part of a letter I sent him in 1986.

I went to the Bijou last night (The Bijou was a small gay porn theater on 3rd Avenue long since gone) and stroked my dick through two entire movies. There were guys stroking all over the theater. Even if I couldn’t see them directly, I could tell if they were playing with themselves by such tell-tale signs as shoulder and arm movements. I love it when a guy sits down and I can tell by the way he’s moving his arms and shoulders that he’s opening his fly and pulling out his dick. There were a lot of different guys passing in and out of my view, but the best of the evening was a kid all decked out in leather (a Christmas present, he told me later) who was jacking when I came in. I sat behind him and pulled out my dick. He moved over in his row so that he could see me better, looking over his shoulder. He wore a white tank-top which he had pulled up to mid-torso. His stroking action was of the fast-and-furious school. He came in about five minutes, much to my chagrin. I was disappointed because I figured from past experience he would probably be the hottest number of the evening and I had just got settled in for a long session. He got up and left and I relaxed into the movie and my slow build to pleasure. About an hour later he returned, sat in exactly the same place and began to jack off again in the same way as he had before. This time, it took him maybe ten minutes. Up and away he went again. I remained where I was and continued the off and on edging, the reason for my being there. Maybe another hour passed and he was back again, sat in the same place, but after a few minutes got up and came and sat next to me, pulled down his pants giving me a perfect view of his hard hairless stomach and a beautiful hard cock that he proceeded to masturbate. He took longer this time. Watching me edge, he kind of got the idea, but he was not a pro and when I saw he was about to cum I decided to join him. It was a beautiful, deep orgasm. We sat for a moment looking at each other before wiping up. In a three-hour period, he had cum three times and I had cum once. He told me that he had actually cum nine times that day. And maybe he did, for all I know. But I was grateful he came the last three with me. It made my cock sing to watch him.

I remember that we exchanged phone numbers before we parted, but I never saw him again.

Check out the bateworld group, Remembrances Of The Adonis, The Mineshaft, The Park-Miller, J’s Bar, The Piers, The Docks!