Behind the Scenes at Masturbate-a-Thon 2010 (Pics NSFW)
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| All photos | Gretchen Robinette |
| Lady Grace, volunteer stage manager and full-time dominatrix, takes center stage |
View more pics in Gretchen Robinette's 10th Annual Masturbate-A-Thon (Really NSFW) slideshow.
It was 11 a.m. on Sunday morning, and the masturbatorium was quiet. The chairs in the voyeur section were mostly empty, just a few early birds in the front row. I slipped off my flip-flops and crossed behind the rope, into the area of the room that would soon be live-streamed onto the Internet.
I had decided I would start with the man in the farthest corner of the room. He was willing to talk, so I settled down on a pillow near his head. I was wearing a dress, so I did this carefully, knees together, like a lady.
"You're pretty," the man observed as I opened my laptop. He told me he was glad the paper had sent a young female reporter.
Yeah, we did that on purpose, I told him.
The man's name, for today, would be "Joe." He had a slight Virginia accent, but right now, he lived in Vegas. He was a white guy, with thin legs, short, gray hair and rosy cheeks. "Joe" hadn't done much to prepare for today, he told me, except take a shower.
Typing busily, I asked him to talk about his background and what had brought him here today.
Joe told me he was an exhibitionist. He liked women to watch him masturbate. Like me, for instance. Even though I was clothed, that was okay.
Joe wasn't clothed at all.
"Am I the first guy you've interviewed while he's 'necking'?" he asked, rubbing his dick enthusiastically.
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| 'Joe' 'necking' |
Joe's hand hadn't really stopped so far in our interview. He was just going, keeping up a good solid rhythm. The guy across the room, with a pot belly and cherubic curls, was flicking at himself lackadaisically. But Joe was not playing around. He kept pumping up and down on his utterly innocuous cock.
Yeah, I guess you are the first one, I told him, trying to sound as unenthusiastic as possible.
Joe does this a lot: He said he had online dates every week or so with women who would watch him masturbate via the Internet. But doing it in public, with women right there, was something special.
He had come to San Francisco to join the 11th-annual Masturbate-a-thon, a fundraiser for the Center for Sex and Culture, which hosted the doings. The event was created to normalize self-pleasure, to make a masturbate-a-thon as mainstream as a walk-a-thon, in the words of sexologist Carol Queen, one of the event's founders.
Walk-a-thons, of course, are seldom live-streamed on the Internet.
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| Roland said he and his wife would clean their house on Monday and then spend all day in bed |
Roland had been to the masturbate-a-thon several times. I asked him if it was unpleasant to masturbate for so long without stopping. No, he said, if he kept approaching orgasm without ejaculating, it actually opened up increasingly higher stages of pleasure. Eventually, he might be able to surf the wave of orgasm for hours at a time. Of course, if that happened, he would have a hard time getting up to walk home.
Roland was committed, but he wasn't there for the competition. Last year, a Japanese sex toy representative named Masanobu Sato masturbated for 9 hours and 58 minutes. This was the masturbate-a-thon's grand record, but Sato didn't venture back this year to defend his title, so the field was wide open.
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| Lauren Smiley |
| Champion Mansanobu Sato at last year's Masturbate-a-thon |
Sweet had commenced his wank at 11 a.m. "Gentlemen," Sweet called out to the voyeurs in the front row, announcing his most recent orgasm. By a shade after noon, his count would stand at four.
He hadn't come, of course (he said). The point of the competition was to stay hard as long as possible without ejaculating. You come, you lose: That was the rule. Sweet said his attempt at the record last year had been foiled by over-excitement.
I settled down in the voyeur section to watch for his next orgasm. It didn't take long. Sweet was using a Tenga, the brand of masturbation-aid that the Japanese champion had peddled. After consulting the detailed diagrams of the devices on the Tenga website -- which highlight their various sucking and rubbing capabilities -- we're guessing Sweet's device was a Lip Service 8.0. That sucker features an air hole "to achieve your preferred suction level," and various kinds of vagina-mimicking "ripples," including "silky ripples for a smooth, tight sensation," and "grainy ripples for irresistible stimuli and tightness."
"Can a Lip Service suck a basketball through a garden hose?" the website asks. "See the demo on YouTube and decide for yourself."
Sweet had both hands on the Tenga and was thrusting fiercely, the muscles in his arms and legs corded with exertion. Even his feet were flexed. He started moaning. His head lolled back and his mouth was a dark hole. The first dead man I had ever seen looked the same way: head flung back, mouth open.
Soon Sweet was thrashing, letting off a long series of pants. "Hah, hah, hah, hah, hah--"
Behind him, Joe was still jerking off, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
Sweet moaned, conclusively, and fell back. That only lasted an instant. Then he commenced rubbing.
Masturbate-a-thon Must-Haves: Binoculars + Lube
"Bring an umbrella," my friend suggested, when she heard I would be covering the Masturbate-a-thon. It's a rite of passage at our paper; nobody does it more than once.
There were plenty of newcomers this year, as the event moved into its second decade of operation.
Larry was in the front row of the voyeur section. It was his first time, too. He had flown in from Chicago expressly for the Masturbate-a-thon. He was in his mid-70s, with a protruding nose, carefully combed white hair, and glasses fastened to his head with an elastic band. His white shirt was very crisp and looked expensive. I asked if it would be accurate to describe him as a business "magnate."
"Let's not go there," he said.
Larry had brought along a pair of binoculars and what looked like a small silver packet of lube. He said he might participate in the masturbation later, depending on where the emotions of the day took him.
He was already using the binoculars.
Larry asked me about the device that Sweet was using. I explained that it was a Tenga. "How do you spell that?" he asked.
"T-E-N--" I started, and then Sweet chimed in, and Larry stood up and walked towards the masturbator, to get a closer look at the thing in action.
Meanwhile, Roland had gotten up from the masturbation floor and was padding nakedly by us.
"Pee break!" he noted brightly.
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| Spectators christened this exhibitionist "Jerkin' Jesus" |
I started talking to Tony the security guy. Tony had a background in law enforcement, and he had driven about 300 miles -- masturbating all the way -- to take part in today's festivities. Tony was responsible for intervening if anyone was making the masturbation space feel unsafe. He had a military-style haircut, a soft, distinctive voice, and a gentlemanly demeanor. Even still, he said something about being glad to break anyone's arm if they caused a
problem. Talking to him was a lot like talking to other cops I had interviewed. Except Tony wasn't wearing pants.
He was decked out in a T-shirt that said "Staff Member," white socks, and hiking shoes. That was it.
Tony said the masturbate-a-thon was a real refuge for people like him. He thought there should be clubs all over the country where people could masturbate together. Ultimately, he thought, public masturbation should be legal. If someone wanted to stand and masturbate on a street corner, he or she should be able to.
I said I wasn't so sure about this. It could be creepy enough to have guys eyeing you in public, much less eyeing you with their hands down their pants.
Tony said that was an issue with stalking and inappropriate behavior, not with masturbation.
But if masturbation was totally legal, wouldn't it lose its thrill? I asked. Wouldn't jacking off in public become about as exciting as sneezing?
That was probably true, Tony agreed: There would be a brief period of thrills after legalization, and then most people would probably refrain. But he was still definitely in favor of making it legal.
Later that afternoon, Tony would approach me with a question. He wasn't sure what my expectations were as a member of the press. It would be pleasurable for him to masturbate while looking at me, he said, but he wasn't sure how I would feel .
I told him I didn't really know the rules. I didn't want to be unsporting. But yes, I said, I would probably feel uncomfortable.
That seemed to settle it. As he walked away, I felt strangely touched. How many people would be that scrupulous, even when it came to their fantasies?
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