• So; experimentation and Mark Twain's Remarks on the Science of Onansim.

    Well, my wife and daughter went off to visit another daughter and my grandchildren for the day and night. Around midnight Friday, I was wondering how my regular reflexes and possibilities were doing after the previous day's hypersensitivity. So down in my lounger, I undressed, lay back, put my laptop on my belly and found nice a porn of sweet young things making love. (xvideos.com; search lovers orgasm over 10m to get ones by orgasms.xxx, who specialize in female/couple-friendly artistic HD porn They kiss a lot, laugh a lot, and seem like they give a damn about one another.
    My standard jack-off to ejaculation worked fine, and I'd had time enough since the last time to have some secretions available. )It seems to take me about four pwaves, losing my erection between them to get there.(
    So, there I was, a few hours later; wondering how things would go with the helix; considering …
    I still don't have the tight kind of control; I lost it onto the rug in the bathroom getting up from loading it in. Got onto the bed and reloaded it. A half-hour into it, using my normal doing-nothing, I had progressed from a few timid flutters to waves of super-Os howling at the moon; literally this time, since I was alone in the house. I could get used to this soooo fast!
    I blissed along for another hour and a half; my prostate didn't care about the wet one earlier. I thought I'd see how overnight works; since I was alone until Saturday evening.
    Well, after four hours of sleep, I woke up to pee, and disconnected. I think I discharged my batteries, as I had not (as far as I knew) still been coming. My anus was irritated, and I wasn't having pwaves. So it seems that my capacity for dry orgasms is not limitless.
    Back to sleep until about 11.
    Still alone, and in a spirit of experimentation, I put some nice loving porn on my desk computer by the bed, and tried seeing what would happen if I tried to jack off. I did about as well as I normally do in the day or two after ejaculating. I got pwaves with semi-solid to rigid erections; got mini-O's, felt good, but didn't load and fire. (The helix had previously coaxed precum from me.)
    During this posting, I flicked my earlobe and had a mini-O; licked my fingertip and had a nice one; just now tried the earlobe again with no results, but the fingertip gave me a semi-super.
    A few anal clenches didn't set me off. About four taps on my prostate by my PC's did. Twice.
    I'm enjoying my new hobby, but as Mark Twain said in an after-dinner speech at the Stomach Club in Paris:
    My gifted predecessor has warned you against the "social
    evil–adultery." In his able paper he exhausted that subject; he
    left absolutely nothing more to be said on it. But I will
    continue his good work in the cause of morality by cautioning you
    against that species of recreation called self-abuse to which I
    perceive you are much addicted. All great writers on health and
    morals, both ancient and modern, have struggled with this stately
    subject; this shows its dignity and importance. Some of these
    writers have taken one side, some the other.
    Homer, in the second book of the Iliad says with fine
    enthusiasm, "Give me masturbation or give me death." Caesar, in
    his Commentaries, says, "To the lonely it is company; to the
    forsaken it is a friend; to the aged and to the impotent it is a
    benefactor. They that are penniless are yet rich, in that they
    still have this majestic diversion." In another place this
    experienced observer has said, "There are times when I prefer it
    to sodomy."
    Robinson Crusoe says, "I cannot describe what I owe to this
    gentle art." Queen Elizabeth said, "It is the bulwark of
    virginity." Cetewayo, the Zulu hero, remarked, "A jerk in the
    hand is worth two in the bush." The immortal Franklin has said,
    "Masturbation is the best policy."
    Michelangelo and all of the other old masters–"old masters,"
    I will remark, is an abbreviation, a contraction–have used
    similar language. Michelangelo said to Pope Julius II, "Self-
    negation is noble, self-culture beneficent, self-possession is
    manly, but to the truly great and inspiring soul they are poor and
    tame compared with self-abuse." Mr. Brown, here, in one of his
    latest and most graceful poems, refers to it in an eloquent line
    which is destined to live to the end of time–"None knows it but
    to love it; none name it but to praise."
    Such are the utterances of the most illustrious of the
    masters of this renowned science, and apologists for it. The
    name of those who decry it and oppose it is legion; they have made
    strong arguments and uttered bitter speeches against it–but there
    is not room to repeat them here in much detail. Brigham Young, an
    expert of incontestable authority, said, "As compared with the
    other thing, it is the difference between the lightning bug and the
    lightning." Solomon said, "There is nothing to recommend it but
    its cheapness." Galen said, "It is shameful to degrade to such
    bestial uses that grand limb, that formidable member, which we
    votaries of Science dub the Major Maxillary–when they dub it at
    all–which is seldom, It would be better to amputate the os
    frontis than to put it to such use."
    The great statistician Smith, in his report to Parliament,
    says, "In my opinion, more children have been wasted in this way
    than any other." It cannot be denied that the high antiquity of
    this art entitles it to our respect; but at the same time, I think
    its harmfulness demands our condemnation. Mr. Darwin was grieved
    to feel obliged to give up his theory that the monkey was the
    connecting link between man and the lower animals. I think he was
    too hasty. The monkey is the only animal, except man, that
    practices this science; hence, he is our brother; there is a bond
    of sympathy and relationship between us. Give this ingenuous
    animal an audience of the proper kind and he will straightway put
    aside his other affairs and take a whet; and you will see by his
    contortions and his ecstatic expression that he takes an
    intelligent and human interest in his performance.
    The signs of excessive indulgence in this destructive pastime
    are easily detectable. They are these: a disposition to eat, to
    drink, to smoke, to meet together convivially, to laugh, to joke
    and tell indelicate stories–and mainly, a yearning to paint
    pictures. The results of the habit are: loss of memory, loss of
    virility, loss of cheerfulness and loss of progeny.
    Of all the various kinds of sexual intercourse, this has the
    least to recommend it. As an amusement, it is too fleeting; as an
    occupation, it is too wearing; as a public exhibition, there is no
    money in it. It is unsuited to the drawing room, and in the most
    cultured society it has long been banished from the social board.
    It has at last, in our day of progress and improvement, been
    degraded to brotherhood with flatulence. Among the best bred,
    these two arts are now indulged in only private–though by consent
    of the whole company, when only males are present, it is still
    permissible, in good society, to remove the embargo on the
    fundamental sigh.
    My illustrious predecessor has taught you that all forms of
    the "social evil" are bad. I would teach you that some of these
    forms are more to be avoided than others. So, in concluding, I
    say, "If you must gamble your lives sexually, don't play a lone
    hand too much." When you feel a revolutionary uprising in your
    system, get your Vendome Column down some other way–don't jerk it

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