General because President Clinton was too embarrassed to support her
appeal to educators to start teaching students about masturbation in
public schools, I wasn't necessarily shocked but I was most certainly
dismayed (who can be shocked anymore by lover-Clinton's two-faced
responses to so much of what goes on in public life these days?).
What's wrong with telling adolescents that jerking-off is a cool thing
to do? I wish someone would have told me about autoeroticism early on
in my teenage years. I can remember back when I was about fourteen
years old, wondering what all these sexy boys were doing walking around
with bone-sticks poking out from behind their pants. Seriously. One
of my best friends, a guy named David, walked around school with a
permanent hard-on and I, unknowingly, felt kind of sexcited myself,
often times fantasizing all kinds of weird things that soon came to the
fore when David and I were a couple years older.
Those early teen years were filled with moments of utter clumsiness and
somehow I had been programmed to believe that not talking about what
we were doing when we were trying to make-love was the most appropriate
way to approach our naive lovemaking sessions. David, and all the other
boys and girls I hung out with, were programmed to just try and do it,
whatever it was, without discussing how to make it easier and better
for all involved. Of course, this is exactly what the conservatives
want to happen. I mean, what would happen if all the pent-up, sexually
curious adolescents of this country actually started becoming
well-informed about the joys of lovemaking early on in their lives ---
they might just...well, you know, become good at it! And responsible
too! But by becoming responsible and good sex partners they might also
start reevaluating the lame priorities the Puritan politicians keep
ramming down their throats!
If I knew then what I know now, I think I would have had much healthier
relationships with my friends in junior high and high school. David and
I would have been great lovers, I'm convinced. I could have taken him
out to the lake near our school during lunch break and softly stroked
his forthright bone-stick in the palm of my lotion-soaked hand and done
to him what he wasn't even prepared to do for himself! That's right! I
realize now that most of the boys walking around with boners were just
ignorant of what was buzzing inside their pants -- I mean, it was there,
making itself known to them in a very concrete way, but jerking-off was
so taboo that their testosterone just keep growing and growing until
there was really nowhere else for it to go and one day they'd wake up in
a puddle of sleep-induced wet-dream wondering what the hell that sticky
stuff was!!
At least that's how David described it to me when we were in our senior
year and finally feeling comfortable enough to talk about these things.
He told me that after he realized how great it was to jerk-off, he did
it every day and sometimes a few times a day. I told him about my
masturbation fantasies too. I could no longer ignore my body and often
just looked forward to the end of the day when I'd be lying in bed
thinking all those wild thoughts that I'd later realize were connected
to the role of sex and power in our fucked-up society.
David agreed. He told me that his imagination was especially keen on
slow, seductive, rape fantasies. He said these fantasies were induced
by the media and that one story in particular, the one TV reporters
referred to as The Silent Rapist, blew his mind. The Silent Rapist, he
said, would approach women when they were most vulnerable, usually
single women home alone in their bedrooms, and he would gently explain
to them that he was not a violent man nor was he overly concerned with
penetrating them without their permission. He insisted that their
pleasure was his only interest, and by assiting them in reaching their
pleasure, he would be satisfied himself.
David said this story got locked in his mind for a few years and that he
constantly imagined ways to bring women to pleasure. Since he wasn't
sure how to get these women, almost all of them in their twenties,
thirties and forties, to agree to let him bring them their pleasure, he
almost always imagined tying them up to a bedpost whereupon he'd dream a
slow, sexy entry into their pleasurehood. The weird thing, he told me,
was he had never heard of anybody else doing this sort of thing so he
never talked about it with anyone until he mentioned it to me. I wasn't
sure what it all meant then (I have an idea now) but I immediately felt
myself turned on by his fantasies.
Once, while we were parked outside my house, past three in the morning,
making out and feeling each other's extremeties, I told David that I
wanted him to take off his belt. He didn't understand, he said, since
his pants were pulled down far enough for me to do what I needed to do
to get him off. But I explained that I actually wanted him to take the
belt off his pants, to pull them through the loops and when he did as I
told him I asked him to start spanking me at which point I turned over
in the seat, pulled down my pants, and brought up my teenage rump for
his eyes only. There was a pause as I'm sure he didn't know what the
hell I was doing or why I was doing it but finally he started playfully
spanking me with his black leather belt and I was getting wet, more wet
than I had ever been. After a little more spank-fun, I turned back
around and asked him to wrap the belt around my neck, that I liked the
feel of the belt and just wanted to pretend that he was putting a leash
on me. Of course, there was no way this was going to work because the
belt-holes were sized for a boy's waist, not like a dog collar sized for
a dog's neck, but he satiated me and I had my finger running along the
edges of my clit-region so that soon I was really cumming with a boy for
the first time in my life.
It was soon after that major orgasm that my mom, super pissed off at me
for staying out late, snuck up to the car and told me it was time to go
in. David was naked down to his ass, I was topless with David's belt
hanging loosely from my shoulders and neck. Curiously, she never asked
me about it. Typical American response: don't ask, don't tell.
The scene with David was the natural follow-up to all kinds of
masturbation fantasies I had in those early days. Slighly older men
especially turned me on, but really, when I look back at it, it was me
who turned me on, it was me just letting my fingers do the walking while
my mind opened itself up to a poetry I never knew myself capable of
creating. Masturbation was key in getting me in touch with my sexual
self and is still a great way to crank up the fantasy-machine, the one
that tries to break down the killing-machine created by the political
goon-squads and their robotic assistants. Masturbation is, in a word,
liberating.
The Clintonites caved in, prematurely I think, to the masturbation
crisis. It was a time to stand tall and say masturbation should be
taught in the schools so that we can sanction the healthy, sexual
becoming of our young people. They should have argued that talking
about masturbation is just part of an overall need to candidly talk
about sex in general. Instructive discussion is the best way to learn,
to grow up. But the Clintons caved in, feeling the pressures of the
far-right who, it ends up, never want to grow up. Look at their Pretty
Boy Floyd leaders and spokesmen and you can understand why masturbation
scares them.
And now Ms. Hillary, the First Babe, is telling us that the best way for
adolescents to deal with their surging sexual needs is to not have sex
until they're 21 and then, she says, don't tell me about it.
Well, Hillary, let me tell you about it before you forget. The body
goes through changes somewhere between the ages of 12 and fifteen and
our imaginations, so absorbed in the images that American capital
creates for us, can't help but wonder what to do with all of this
unbridled energy. Experiencing one's sexual awakening is a fact of
life, and a wonderful one at that. And don't be surprised, baby, if
there are a bunch of young boys out there who find you sexually
attractive enough for their seed-pod fantasies. Bill sure looks good to
me.
