Sloppy Seconds: The Tucker Max Leftovers

How I learned to masturbate

There are only two types of liars: Those that say they don’t, and those that say they quit. Everyone masturbates. The only people who don’t masturbate are eunuchs and midgets whose arms are too short to reach their privates.

I’m no different. I love jacking off. At this point in my life, I still masturbate at least once a day, and that’s even if I’m having regular sex with a girl(s). I used to be way worse—when I was 22, if I found a good video on the internet, I’d skip a class to rub a few out.

If you are too young, stupid, or repressed to have found your genitals yet, you may be asking yourself why I’ve incorporated masturbation into my daily schedule with such fierce dedication. The positives are numerous: you know your body better than anyone else, it’s quick, free, easy, and fun. And these positives far outweigh the negatives, which are none.

Masturbation is not better than having sex with a girl, but it can definitely be better than dealing with all the girl’s shit. There have been dozens of girls in my lifetime who, when presented with the chance to fuck them, I’ve turned them down and masturbated instead, simply because I knew that after I shot my nut, my hand would not get pregnant, not give me an STD, and not expect me to entertain it or stay awake talking about shit I don’t care about.

As much as I love masturbation, I started doing it late in life. Because I grew up in Kentucky in the early 90’s, before the internet really existed in a meaningful way, I wasn’t even fully sure what masturbation was until I got to be like 13 or 14. I just knew it was supposedly awful and anyone suspected of it was summarily mocked, so I never really thought much about it.

Don’t get me wrong; I had plenty of my uncle’s old porn stashed under my bed, I just thought you were supposed to look at it, like a study guide or a topographical map. What if a girl you were with decided to do yoga on a pool table and rest her shoulders on the felt in downward dog position while she tucked her head underneath her leg, sucked on her tit, stuck her ass up in the air and pressed the tip of a pool cue against her clit (my uncle liked Hustler)? You needed to be prepared.

I had no idea porn had another purpose. I didn’t even think it was weird at all that when I lost my virginity on my 16th birthday, I had NEVER masturbated. It wasn’t until more than a year later, when I was 17, that I popped my hand cherry. And that happened just by chance.

I was hanging out with a girl in my basement who evidently had one of those dads who loved her and paid attention to her, because she wouldn’t sleep with me or give head. Fucking great. Now what? She started to rub her hand up and down my cock. I liked it a lot, and then—to my mild shock—I came all over her. She was not pleased. The best part was that this only pissed her off because she “had just washed that shirt.” Ah, Kentucky.

So the next day I call her to come over but she is busy or whatever. Then it dawns on me: that thing she did, with her hand . . . I could do that myself. I have hands. I can rub one up and down too. So I try it.

It worked! And in quite the revelation, I discover that I am even better at it than she was. I’m a fucking natural!

So I do it again.

And lo and behold, it works again! Just as good as the last time! This whole masturbation thing is fucking great. Why has everyone been so down on it?

I go again. And then one more time. You know, for luck.

Later that night, I pulled out one of my uncle’s Hustler magazines. It was like looking at it for the first time all over again. That’s when I realized: porn isn’t a study guide. It’s a masturbatory aid! By the time I was done, I was exhausted, and that magazine looked like someone had dropped it in a swimming pool.

The well-adjusted girl with appropriate sexual boundaries called me the next day:

Girl “Hey, can I come over?”

Tucker “Do you want to have sex?”

Girl “No—I told you, I don’t want to have sex until college.”

Tucker “Will you go down on me?”

Girl “No, I don’t like that. But we can, you know, do the other thing. But you need to be more careful this time, like where it goes.”

Tucker “Nah, just forget it. I’ve . . . found someone better.”