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There’s a common assumption (read: stereotype) that men are basically orgasms waiting to happen. All one need do is grab a dick and with a few strokes or sucks, cum!

And there’s this other idea that all guys are experts at jacking off, and that when a guy is confronted with another guy’s dick and a handjob op, he will automatically know exactly what to do because he’s been jacking off since boyhood, right? Easy!

And all of this is, of course, bullshit. Most men have expertise in getting themselves off and have lifetimes of research under their belts (literally) with getting to Yahtzee in no time, or in making it last, or riding the edge. Virtually all men possess this personal mastery.

I’ve said it before and I will repeat it now: As soon as another person enters the physically intimate sphere of sex play, it’s no longer masturbation. “Masturbation” is not merely the act of stroking a penis with a hand. Masturbation is solosex. It is the love we make to ourselves… or it’s the utilitarian sex we have with ourselves. Yes, it is sex, but it is the sex we call masturbation. It is sex for one, as Betty Dodson coined.

Now, I know perfectly well that I’m being doctrinaire here. Isn’t “mutual masturbation” a perfectly accurate and valid term for jacking another guy off and being jacked off by him?

And the answer is yes. Of course it is. In fact, my distinction is a personal one… but it not without reason. I generally don’t like to use the terms “group masturbation,” “mutual masturbation” or “masturbation club.” I deliberately choose the words, “jack-off,” “stroke,” and “bate” to avoid using the M word to describe anything other than solosex.

But… being a writer trying not to construct redundant paragraphs, I will still use those oxymorons. Sparingly.

And here’s why it matters to me: There are important differences between solosex and sex with others, even if the specific frictional action is otherwise identical. The big deal is, of course, the difference between the feedback loop of action, mental response and reaction that happens when one is stimulating oneself, and the need to communicate with another human when one is not inside their head, experiencing the results of one’s actions instantaneously.

I have jacked off hundreds of men and been jacked off by hundreds of men. I don’t like to think of myself as a handjob expert because there is only one penis with which I am truly an expert. My takeaway from all these years of stroking is the same as every other kind of sex with others: There’s a complex web of elements that need to achieve reasonable compatibility to make it work. I need to have a compelling, innate, positive response to how that person looks, acts, smells, tastes… They need to have a corresponding positive response to me and we need to have compatible technique, including the ability to adjust in real time to meet each other’s needs.

In other words, you can’t take for granted that what works for you will work for me… or him or him or him. We may be able to get off, but to have good sex—including great handjobs—you’ve gotta have chemistry and you’ve gotta be paying attention to each other from instant to instant. You have to both be on the same ride together.

Don’t get me wrong: If you want to call it masturbation, even when more than one person is in the action, if you want to refer to someone else masturbating my penis, if you want to classify it as “not sex” because there’s no penetration… that’s just fine with me! As long as you’re getting the full sexual pleasure and deep satisfaction you deserve, that’s all I really care about.

But I will disagree with you.

But don’t assume that being an expert on your own cock is going to make you an expert on mine. I like it generally slower, varied in speed and tightness, I like the frenulum stroked exclusive of the glans, my nutbag touched and caressed, my hole teased and my prostate pressed “just so,” I need to periodically clean off all lube and re-lubricate, and I need to take breaks of two to ten minutes from all penis stimulation between near-orgasms or I can’t cum at all. Is that recipe perhaps just slightly different from yours?

See? It’s not as easy as you thought.

Just a brief thought… It occurred to me that the men who are exploring deep edging and prolonged masturbation practices are simply taking sex with themselves where it really should be for all kinds of sex: RESPECT for our visceral animal nature, FOCUS on the raw fact of the sexual moment, and the honor of our TIME to make a sexual experience the best it can be.

A bator/edger knows that his sexual impulse is an innate, human power that recedes from us when we ignore it or belittle it. He does not disrespect or second-guess the internal urging of his libido and because he has agreed to give in to it, he doesn’t deflate it with negative self-talk. He loves that internal urging and makes a promise to it that he will give it the attention it asks and when that opportunity arises, he fulfills the promise and indulges that impulse.

Bators know that sexual desire is something to sink into, to temporarily immerse in and that it is possible to direct the mind fully into the penis and all that radiates from it in the moment of engagement.

The edger rarely just jacks off. He is unlikely to waste time on a utilitarian orgasm. Indeed, getting off is not the objective but only an end to an exquisite journey and he is in no hurry to end that journey.

When I have sex with my lovers I want to always share an agreement to enter the edger’s realm, to completely surrender to our horny, sex-drunk primate energy from the start; to focus completely on each moment of profound stimulation, to be absolutely in the Now of every exchange of touch, every gift of pleasure and every second of grateful receptivity; and I want to ride the edge for as long as we can, prolonging the plateau for hours.

Edgers are not the outlaws in the sexual community. They are the gurus of sexual experience that the rest of us should be seeking out for wisdom.

In a couple of weeks, I’m going in for some hip surgery. It’s not major surgery and not really what I’m writing about today.

You see, in the lead-up to the surgery, I had to get an MRI of my hip… with contrast. Contrast means they had to inject some dye into the hip before scanning me, and the injection had to be done under a fluoroscope.

But that’s not what I’m writing about today either. I’m writing about pubic hair.

Because before the contrast injection, I was subject to the inept ministrations of a nurse who had to shave a tiny patch of my pubes off before the doctor arrived to do the injecting.

Nurses are fantastic people. I think many of them are heroes. I think expecting them to be experts at manscaping is expecting too much of them and this nurse demonstrated that limitation horrifically. 

Following the procedure, I was a little sore from the injection but I had seriously painful razor burns where nurse De Sade had literally left her mark. Had I known what I was in for, I’d have taken care of that little detail myself and spared myself the pain.

As the little patch has grown back I have become increasingly aware of how much I love my pubes. I have a special love for all the hair that grows on my penis and scrotum. I do trim ever so slightly, but I value that hair and would hate to be without it, even a little of it, for long.

Further, I rate body hair as my number one specific turn-on. Furry legs, arms bellies and crotches can get me easily over a dozen other aspects that are less than optimal in a sex partner, and the mere touch of a hairy thigh brushing against my scrotum is often the trigger to a full-on orgasm. I am turned on to hairy guys in a major, major way.

Add to that my specific dislike of shaved skin and naturally hairless guys. I know this is a big turn-on for many men but for me, it is a bonafide boner-killer. Smooth doesn’t work for me and depilated chests, backs, legs and especially, genitals, can put the brakes on an otherwise great time in a New York minute.

And I… I am a relatively smooth guy. Yes, I have a modest amount of hair on my crotch and balls and a little in my ass-crack. I also have a little thatch in the middle of my chest and a dusting on my stomach but in all honesty, I have to simply own that I am pretty smooth. My butt cheeks and legs feel smooth as silk. I do not count that as a good thing.

And I do like my body. A lot. I’m profoundly grateful for it and I think I’m doing damn well with my 57 year-old, formerly fat body. I actually love my body, flaws (real and perceived) and all…

I would fuck me.

So. I’m a relatively smooth guy with a major body hair perv and an upcoming medical procedure that’s going to require depilation on a little more aggressive level than I prefer… What’s a JackDaddy to do?

I’m going to completely shave my dick. By “shave my dick” I mean I’m going to completely shave off the hair on my pubis, penis, scrotum and upper thigh. I am going to take just a small risk in leaving my modest ass-crack hair untouched, only because my ass has been fully shaved before and the discomfort of crack-hair regrowing is pure torture. I’m just going to trust that the docs don’t need to mess with my ass.

I am doing this for two reasons:

1. I’d rather do it myself, with care, than trust the deed to some nurse who could leave me with a vicious razor burn where I seriously do NOT need it and… 
2. I like fucking with my own established prejudices. 

I’m going to not only shave down my cock and balls to their oversized infantile state, I’m going to do my utmost to actually enjoy my bald man penis while it lasts. I’m also going to chronicle the experience before the shave, before the surgery and during my recovery… by which I mean the slow regrowth of my treasured meadow of manhood.

So here’s my unexcited, barely tended, natural penis in all its moderately-hairy glory…

I am not a “dick pic” guy. There is nothing particularly wonderful to me about a photo of my own cock (or anyone else’s) without a face attached to a body. This is just an illustration of the fact of my beloved penis as it is today, as it is most of my life. It just is. It simply offers a snapshot of my status quo.

This Tuesday, I’ll be at my jack-off club, digging fully into the love of cock that is the Jacks and my penis is going to look different, more like this moist meatiness, and specifically sharing my fuzzy buddy with my friends, loving the fingers caressing and petting my bush, the lingering scent of crotch sweat on my fingers and the electrical buzz of the scrotum hair being tickled. I’m going to enjoy that bate like my last meal, even though I know full-well that I have ten more days before my hip goes into the shop.

Next week, I will probably masturbate every day. Maybe I’ll have a little sex too but on Thursday morning, August 27, I will carefully trim my dick and then mow the whole playground completely smooth. 

And then… I will indulge in a prolonged session of self-love, doing my best to accept and even embrace my infantilized genitalia and bestow a mighty orgasm upon myself.

The next day… surgery… and the start of my own pubic hair renaissance.