My First Mutual Masturbation, a Tale of the Seventies

While the sexual revolution was becoming multiorgasmic, I was in my early thirties, holed up just across the hills from Berkeley, telling myself I was doing a project, and enjoying my hormones. I'd found the sort of place you only get through friends, a roomy one bedroom below the main house, all of it perched over a little wooded culvert nobody could walk down into. It was a trail for white tailed deer.

Cathy and I had met through the hookup book of a sort of swinger's club that's hard to imagine today. I don't remember where I saw that phone number, but it was probably in one of the alternative rags. I suppose they weren't all that selective, but it was a mom-and-pop operation and you did have to have a face-to-face interview. So I went through the routine, paged through the book, found Cathy, met for a drink, and hit it off. She's been curious like me, no kind of pro, unjaded, even with a certain unfeigned innocence. She was a pretty brunette with hair to her shoulder blades framing a face that, at first, seemed girl-next-door. We went out more, did things, had sex, but it didn't feel to either of us like the beginning of anything long term. Still, we were hanging out and trusting, and on a deliciously quiet Sunday in that canyon I did my first mutual masturbation.

That afternoon we were both kicked back on my beat-up sofa, oh-so-abstractly chatting about the signs of the times. The sixties political frenzies had calmed and body freedom had center stage. I had just started learning baby step Tantra, breathing and centering and allowing sensation, and sitting there with Cathy I was letting it up all right, from my root chakra through my balls, down my cock and back up, all the while nonchalantly chatting away. I knew that she was deliciously natural underneath her summer shorts and tshirt. I was getting hard, but still relaxing, taking it easy, breathing steadily, letting the heat flow up. I was feeling so sensitive that each little pulse was a tiny stroke against the cloth.

All the while I was concentrating on not leading myself, and on simply feeling the glow. The windows faced west and the afternoon sun was slanting through. It was the textbook moment to make a pass, but I wanted to simply stay in that natural, unforced moment. Still kicked back, but with my dick straining in my shorts, I let it out.

-I've got a sensation right now that I have to take care of. I'll go in the next room if you'd rather.

She didn't need time to think.

-Whatever turns you on.

I unbuttoned and took it out. She barely had to turn her head to watch. We hadn't moved and were still half-sitting, half-lying, bare feet up on the table. I licked the tip of my index finger and lightly started stroking the little point under the head. I didn't make any move towards her, but I could feel her attention homing in more and more to where I was brushing my cock. I was rock hard and throbbing, all the more turned on because she was watching. She spoke first.

-Actually, this is getting me horny.

My words came right out.

-Nobody here but us.

-I don't know if I should.

Pro forma. Her voice was wet. Without stopping what I was doing, with my left hand, I flipped open the top button of her shorts.

-Enjoy yourself.

She undid the rest in seconds and we ran naked into the bedroom. I grabbed a couple of big towels and threw them down on on the cover. She jumped on, rolled, spread, and put her middle finger in to the second knuckle, rubbing her clit fast. I put a pillow at the foot of the bed and lay opposite to watch, my cock pointing at her navel. Her eyes were starting to glaze and I could see her swollen lips glistening. She'd been filling up while I was getting hard. I stopped touching myself again and focused on the sensation, feeling the flow build, breathing faster and deeper, centering with her movements, letting my oncoming orgasm tune itself in to hers. She was going at it harder, still just with her middle finger.

Eyes closed, then open, then back, both of us. I wasn't fantasizing, just being in the moment. Each time I'd get close I'd stop, breathe, throb, and let it build, till I was swollen, full, and knew I'd have to let go soon. I pushed again:

-Is your cunt about to snap?

She was right there.

-Not yet, but it will.

The anteroom door banged open. I could have come right then, but I breathed and held and skimmed while I watched. We writhed and stroked, back and forth into ourselves and one another's eyes until I felt the channel opening, my dick bouncing, my little hole dilating for the first drop of precome. She oozed a little onto her thigh. This was it. My words were a gasp.

-Ready to watch me shoot off?

Her eyes were filmy looking at my cock.

-Oh, yes, give me your lifeblood!

That put the hammer to the cartridge. All that pressure finally pushed through and I was as loud as my pajama string load was long. My eyes kept looking into hers as she creamed, snapped, and came, long brunette hair flying. I have no idea how long we orgasmed. Then I flopped around and we lay there for a while.