Had to rub a quick one out on my lunch break. Can’t believe I was able to stay so quiet, usually I’m pretty loud.
— This is me and that makes it mine. You have permission to reblog or share a link to it. You do not have permission to download it to re-upload it to tumblr or any other site.
This is sex. Masturbation, either solo or shared, is sex. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
I always meant to write to you to tell you that because of your blog, I found my own stroke buddy a couple of years ago. We only meet and hang out a few times a year, but when we do, it’s fun. 😉
This guy was the first (and probably only guy) I’ve experimented with, and I’m so thankful that I sought out the opportunity. Prior to finding a safe stroke bud to experiment with, I was always at least a little insecure about my sexuality.
Now, I’ve basically tried pretty much everything I was always curious about. Some things I liked, other things weren’t for me. But I gave myself permission to let go of all the fucking stigmas and just experience what I’ve always wondered about.
It was literally a transformative experience. And I’m a much more confident man for it. I’m so much more intimately familiar with MYSELF, and I love myself for everything that I am. Because in experiencing those things, I learned that whatever I wanted to do “was just fine”, and the world didn’t end. It was like, “huh… Wow… That was cool. AND fun. And I’m pretty much the same person I was before. Soooo… No big deal.”
Ironically, that epiphany WAS a big deal, at it was exactly what I needed to solidify who I was.
The benefit to my relationships and sexual confidence is profound. When you let go of preconceived notions, what you end up with can be very different than the stuff you made up in your head. I guess the most accurate “category” I can describe myself is heteroflexible. And even then, it’s a little more complex to explain (as everyone’s singular sexuality can be rather unique if you try to break everything down and unpack everything out of the arbitrary box). I’d only really ever experiment with my stroke bud if I ever get a curiosity to try something new.
But if I ever found another stroke buddy (which would be cool), I know myself now to understand that I’d be best served to keep it as male bonding through stroke, and that’s it.
My romantic preference is women, investing that duality of emotional and physical connections. But I also really enjoy male bonding in the way of enjoying porn from time to time. Doesn’t have to be more complicated than that. And it really opens the door for future experimentation such as threesomes and moresomes. And I can appreciate and confidently tell another man whether they look attractive without feeling creepy or weird about it. I’ve complimented my male coworkers numerous times on their style or if I noticed that they’ve been working out; they always took it as a compliment, and not some kind of insecure advance.
A big part of their acceptance is that I’m secure and confident – and they feel it, and are able to also mimic that secure and confident energy.
So it goes without saying that knowing myself much more intimately has helped my friendships with my male friends tremendously, because now I really understand my feelings much more, and I’m unafraid of building intimate bonds with my bros without worrying about it being “weird”. A strong emotional connection is a strong emotional connection should transcend gender – and it doesn’t HAVE to be sexual. And even if it goes there, so the fuck what?
We’re human beings, and we’re all designed to connect in every way, no matter what kind of physical equipment you were born with.
Anyway, just like my blog, I could keep going all night. I just needed to do my part and tell you about another “success story” that was inspired from stories told through your blog. More men should allow themselves to jump in, have fun, and just see which part of the pool they love to swim in most.
Wow. Thank you so damn much for this. This is hands-down one of the VERY best messages I’ve ever received, from a FFollower who has requested to remain anonymous. I swear, FY!FF has some of the most evolved, heart-centered FFollowers on tumblr (and on the interwebz) and I’m grateful for each and every one of you. It’s notes like these that solidify why I’ve been doing this thing for FIVE years now. This shit means the world, man. And I’m even MORE happy for you and how confidently and assuredly you speak of your experiences and sexuality.
And what’s awesome is the ripple effect your actions create: just because you are shining your own light so brightly and confidently, you unconsciously give other men permission to do the same. Men who’ve never even heard of FY!FF, and may never hear of it. When they see other men walking in their power like you now are, they think, “wow, I want what that dude has!” That’s what this is all about. We are all connected. And we’re all in this together. Thanks for joining me on this journey, my friends. Love y’all, mean it.
-trey
This post rings true for me, although I’m aware that I don’t have this guy’s capacity to play outside of my sexual identity. The experiences I’ve had with women simply haven’t turned me on and still don’t. Still, what I’ve observed in men who identify as straight and bi, men who come to JO clubs and masturbate with other men, bears out this capacity to experience sexual pleasure and personal connection with other men regardless of identity alone. For certain levels of sexual play, I no longer believe it is necessary or honest to claim that one is gay in order to enjoy that play and benefit from it beyond pleasure alone.
I’ve thought for a while that human nature is both more complex than we imagine it to be, and more simple. The bottom line for me is that individuals can free themselves of doubt, shame and worry by simply trying those things which we’re both attracted to and frightened of. We want them simply because we want them but we fear them because they threaten an idea of who we are that stands in the way of being who we are.
— Paul
So hot
Beautiful dissolving of the barriers between lovers and friends. Masturbating together is such a powerful and natural way to simply feel good with and about ourselves and others.
Yes, it is true! I am meeting with leaders of the CSPC and FSPC this Monday to discuss all the details and I’ve secured interim event dates through February to keep us jacking happily along until then.
I haven’t seen the new space yet and I know that the team from the Center is going to be building it out to be fully suitable for all that they do. I have no doubt that it is going to work very well for us and accommodate our needs as well. My work for the next few months will be to ensure that our membership has everything it needs to bring us to the next level (whatever that means).
Anybody who wants to help Rain City Jacks make the move successful and sustain our relationship with our fantastic host organization should consider giving a donation to the Foundation for Sex Positive Culture (as I do). If you do support them with a donation, there is a place to leave a note. I encourage you to mention that you’re donating in support of Rain City Jacks and our shared vision.
Also, donations to the FSPC are tax-deductible and eligible for corporate matching funds… I’m just saying…
I love this comment. I hope you do make it back some day.
The Facebook link in the email form was put there by the designer. I don’t know why… I don’t support an FB group for the Jacks. I barely have time to run the club as it is!
Why don’t you post an “Ask me anything” question on my blog page? I always respond to those.
May is National Masturbation Month. In support, I’m going to attempt to write something about masturbation and post it every day this month. They may be short. They may be messy. They will most certainly get post-edited. If you enjoy what I have to share (or if you really don’t) I invite you to add comments. Your participation helps me a lot. Join me in celebrating the most common sexual act of our species and add your thoughts to this offering.
Repeat after me: This is my penis. It is part of me. It grows from me and extends into me. This penis is beautiful. My penis is a source of my joy. I know my penis. I care for my penis. My penis motivates me and moves me. My penis feels good. My penis feels wonderful. The pleasure of my penis radiates into and all through my body. My penis teaches me focus. My penis teaches me self-possession. My penis belongs to me and I command it. I am in charge of my penis. My penis is a reflection of my confidence, my maleness, my physical and mental health. My penis leads me to pleasure. My penis leads me to love. I love my penis. I love my beautiful penis. I honor my penis and will never take it for granted. I promise to treat my penis well for as long as life allows me to be with it. I promise to take good care of my penis. I choose to share my penis, but my penis will always belong to me. I love my beautiful penis.
Reblogging this paean to my penis from spring of 2014. I hope you are moved to recite it out loud, to own it as your own. There is nothing more representative of our self-possession as men than to take full ownership of our own bodies.
August 22: I had the surgery to reattach my torn hamstring just in time. The doctor said he found it basically hanging by a thread, almost completely avulsed. Had that happened, my recovery could have taken a lot longer. I come to in the recovery room and immediately take my first two Percocet. By evening, I’ve added 5 mg of straight oxycodone to dull the pain. I will be in a hip brace for the next six weeks and I’m mentally braced as well in anticipation of that nuisance. I’ve not felt any sexual impulses since yesterday’s pre-op self-love session. I knew what I was in for and I was treating my penis and prostate with the care and attention to which I’ve committed. Now, in the wake of surgery, my penis may as well be in suspended animation.
August 25: I take my final Percocet with breakfast after three days of prudent titration and transition fully to ibuprofen alone. The pain is so much better but I haven’t taken a shit since the 21st. I still have zero libido.
August 26: Finally! I empty my bowels and feel immediate relief from days of growing discomfort. That afternoon, I start scrolling through tumblr and feeling my genitals begin stirring between my legs. It takes about a half an hour of lazy web browsing for my penis to swell into semi-erection. I’ve only touched it to piss for the past six days, I’m still not all that motivated and I prefer to be urged by my libido, not push the river.
August 27: I wake up with the happiest morning wood I can remember in years. My dick is just so happy to greet the morning after a good night of sleep with no pain. I indulge a brief sexting session with my favorite cub and suggest he drop by the next day to help me with my recovery, to freshen my water, rotate my ice packs and… lie next to me and masturbate for a couple of hours. I’m so delighted when he enthusiastically agrees and we set the following night as his shift.
August 28: I’ve had many terrific friends coming by for a few hours at a time to help me out while I’m pretty much quarantined in my bedroom. They’ve brought snacks and blessed coffee and helped me get cleaned up and fed, but Marty brings me something nobody else can: A strong reconnection to my penis, to my maleness, to he himself and the unique excitement I feel in his presence. He arrives shortly after 6pm, greets me with a smile and immediately starts stroking my leg, moving quickly to the boner tenting my pajama bottoms. He wastes no time freeing my hungry penis but he also does not rush me at all. My favorite cub is one of the few men in my life who truly understands edging and he hasn’t come here today just to get off or get me off. Marty and I edge each other slowly for almost three hours, me stuck on my back with my brace keeping me from sitting up or humping and thrusting too much with my hips. The restraint is exquisite. We’ve never spent this much time just bating and when we cum together, we both squirt hard, enthusiastic ropes of semen all over ourselves and each other simultaneously. We lay in the warm oxytocin glow with the cum soaking into our shirts, forearms and beards. I feel so spent and happy and satisfied.
August 29: Alone at home and still charged by Marty’s exquisite care, I spend two hours edging my very erect penis and experimenting with only stimulating small areas of the frenulum and the tiny divot under the corona of my dickhead. I’m insanely hard for the entire two hours without any lead up or break, just slowly edging my beautiful penis toward another inevitable, gratifying climax and feeling wonderful.
September 4: I’ve begun my PT, doing three rounds a day of tedious isometrics in my bed and getting around a little better on my crutches. I’ve left my penis alone for the past week, other than to piss and wash and absently stroke, once again waiting for it to let me know when it’s time to masturbate.
There are many indications that I’m on the mend and doing well, but none so clear to me as the rolling surges of libido that draw my mind and body into my center, into my crotch and into self love. I feel healthy and alive and very plugged into my manhood and my body, both inside and out.
