The Lost Art of the Hand Job
So if I had to document the many twists and turns of my own sexual evolution the 80’s was all about blow jobs for me with the SM type stuff toward the end of the decade. I was young and while probably into the entire fetish thing a bit young for the period I assure you I wasn’t the only one playing with whips and chains in my age bracket. Then again I had my first 3 way at barely 18 which was I’m told was far less common then than it is for all the crazy kids out there these days. And having sex in the same room as other couples was almost a given on most Friday and Saturday nights. Life was good.
The 90’s continued to evolve my love of a great B.J. and rough sex but add in a little more role play and more dynamic encounters, my first orgy, a basic understanding of swinging, a healthy doses of Sex Caffeine and Rock n Roll. Early in the decade I considered Vibrators and Toys to be something you only needed if you couldn’t get laid or your dick didn’t work. Now they are as much a part of most of our sexual routines as our traditional sexual organs. God I love progress and can’t imagine life with a woman who wasn’t comfortable using toys. Life was still good and getting better.
The 2000’s well for me it was nude beaches and resorts. A very memorable week at Hedo, a few hot nights on St, Martin some mind blowing parties in South Beach and despite it all I think I learned what I always really knew not only did I like sex but in fact I’m truly the happiest when surrounded by other adventurous people who feel the same way. I would be completely remiss if I didn’t mention the internet and what it has done for sex, lifestyle and Porn (both good and bad). This was my pants optional in public period.
Somewhere along the way and in between the parties and resorts and with the ability to create and share erotic stories, dirty pictures, and professional like home made porn complete with sound tracks and props something at least in my little corner of the world was lost. Before during and along the way was the hand job. I’m not talking about masturbation because despite all the advances in technology and sexuality the fact remains that all of us are pretty much self equipped to get off whenever we need with what we already have add a little spit and a healthy imagination.
A lover once told me “no matter how good you are it will always feel better if someone else is doing it for you.” She was a wise and wily little slut who by the way gave amazing hand jobs. Which is really the point of today’s story.
I’m a lucky guy I get my dick rubbed, tugged, played with, sucked, and fucked on a pretty damn regular basis but somewhere along the way people stopped just jerking me off to make me cum? Is it a sexual evolution or a lost art form? Fine tickle my balls as I explode inside of you the more stimulation and the longer I hold on the better the orgasm I’m all for it.
You can stoke me until I could cut diamonds and I won’t complain. Hold me firmly with your thumb rocking under my head in small pressure filled circles and I’d moan in delight. A soft long touch with no lube to tease me or pull hard and fast before impaling yourself on me with a wet well rubbed pussy is a wonderful little interlude. Once upon a time there was one person who world roll me between her hands and she was most masterful at varying the speed and pressure. Despite all of this I can’t tell you the last time someone just took my dick out and gave me a good hand job with nothing more than a coy look maybe a little dirty talk. It seems to me that the hand job has become an appetizer to the main course and dessert. Again don’t get me wrong I’m all for drink followed by the 5 course meal but some nights I just want an appetizer. I don’t really need the soup, salad, main course, pasta and dessert. Similarly on occasion in its most basic form I just want to cum, I don’t want to perform, reciprocate, and selfishly I don’t want to worry about anyone else getting off on anything other than getting me off.
And that is the very reason why I believe that the hand job is very much a lost art that hearkens back to the heady and lust filled days of my youth. Rather than always breaking new ground and because the choice of options has gotten so wide, the acts so lurid, dirty and deviant that the joy of the little things is lost. Even if the little things is the very place where innocence once began to shatter. After all who really needs 3 types of batteries, 5 kinds of specialty lube in 4 different flavors, and a porn collection to rival a university library when a little spit, an eager hand, a dirty mouth and a tissue at just the right time will do just fine.
The Lost Art of the Hand Job