Chapter 26 – The Strange Evolution of Human Sexuality
I think I started regularly jackin off when I was in like fifth or sixth grade – so eleven years old, we’ll say? Since then, since my days as a newcummer to the wanking game, I’d hafta say the longest I’d gone without touching myself was during basic training in the Air Force. That was close to two months spent without bustin a nut. I made it until the final week without even really bein tempted to – ya know – beat til I skeet. Hangin out in a dorm with sixty other stinky sweaty dudes all day every day…well, let’s just say that pleasuring myself wasn’t at the top of my to-do list. But then one day in that final week I was bullshittin with one of the guys and he told me that pretty much every time he was on overnight guard duty, he’d tell his partner that he had to go take a shit and then’d head into one of the bathroom stalls and go to town on himself. Said no one ever bothered him. Said those ten minutes to himself were the most privacy he’d had since we were all thrown into this strange social experiment together a month-and-a-half beforehand. The idea piqued my interest. I mean, a scuzzy bathroom stall isn’t the most romantic place in the world to fuck your hand, but it’s also not the worst. A buddy of mine who served in the Army told me that when he was deployed to Iraq, he’d do all his baitin’ in a porta-potty. Said he’d often just jizz directly down into the hole onto other people’s piles of shit. Maybe I’m bein overly sentimental here, but it’s hard for me to imagine a more horrendous fate for a buncha cells that could potentially be your children.
So, anyway, during that final week, I was scheduled for guard duty one last time. It was an overnight. Think it was a two-to-four. As is standard procedure, whoever was on duty from midnight til two came to my bunk and woke me up at 1:50 so I’d have ten minutes to change outta my sleeping gear, put on my ABU (Airman Battle Uniform) and get my fake rifle outta the box from under my bed. Two o’clock came, me and whoever I was scheduled with officially relieved the twelve-to-two guys of their duty and they went off to bed. We were standin in the narrow hallway between the dorms and the bathrooms, positioned about fifteen feet away from the locked exterior steel door that we were instructed to guard and make sure no one threatening gained access through. In the first couple weeks we’d been doin guard duty, it was pretty normal for one of the sergeants to bang on the door and shout, “Let me in!” without showin their credentials. Even though it might be frightening to have some crazy pissed-off guy who you know to be your boss during daylight hours back here makin a big ruckus and wakin up all your fellow trainees in the middle of the night, the rule was that you shouldn’t open the door for ‘em unless they show you their military ID (their CAC, their “Common Access Card”) through the little square glass window on the door and that their ID corresponds with one of the names of authorized people on the list hung next to the door – like, sometimes they’d show you a fake ID with a different name on it and try to trick ya into letting ‘em in. By the last two weeks of training though, they pretty much stopped doin that shit altogether, so overnight guard duty was just about as dull as it gets – for some, a real struggle to stay awake.
That night, during my first half-hour on duty, I had a brief chat with my “wingman,” did some push-ups in the hallway, and then walked around and did a head count. We started with sixty guys at the beginning of training, but lost seven or eight along the way due to psychological reasons. So I counted like fifty-one guys sleeping in their bunks and then added in myself and the guy I was on duty with and…yep – everyone was accounted for. I annotated the head count in our log book and then told my wingman I was gonna go use the bathroom. Half-asleep, he shrugged and nodded and went right back to staring blindly at the wall.
Upon entering the latrine, I went into one of the stalls, stood over the toilet like I was about to take a piss and began unbuckling the belt of my ABU trousers. Once sufficiently loosened, I lowered ‘em to the middle of my thighs, held the bottom of my uniform shirt up with one hand, then wrapped the other hand around my dick and started strokin it up and down as I had thousands of times before. It was half-hard right from the start and it felt pretty good, but there’s really no way that what I was doin felt so good that it should’ve caused me to cum as fast as I did. I dunno. It was like my reproductive system was so overloaded and so sensitive that a stiff breeze could’ve gotten me off at the time. Seriously, no more than twenty seconds after starting, I began to ejaculate all over the toilet as well as the wall behind it and the floor below it. Had I been able to predict I’d erupt that quickly, I would’ve had a handful of toilet paper prepared to catch it in, but that just wasn’t the case and once I’d started, I couldn’t stop cumming. It was a huge load too. When I was done, the stall looked like it’d just gotten bukkake’d by a team of at least five guys. I tried to wipe up the mess as good as I could, but without any chemicals – like, I mean, using nothing more than dry TP so smear my load offa the toilet seat – I couldn’t really do that thorough of a job and kinda felt bad for whoever was gonna hafta sit on all my jizz residue when takin a shit the following morning. Whatever though – at least I didn’t have any STDs. They’d checked us out at MEPS (the Military Entrance Processing Station) before basic training and I hadn’t fucked anyone since arriving there, so…”So what?!” I imagined one of our training instructors yelling. “You boys’ll get a little bit o’ my jizz on your asses! Man up, trainee! A little jizz on your cheeks never killed anyone! It’ll put some hair on your chest, trainee! People wearin that uniform have given their lives overseas for your freedom and you’re worried about a little bit o’ my cum on your ass?! Cry me a river, trainee! And take a lap while you’re at it!”
Well, that said, the second longest spunkless stint in my adult life had been right after my dad died. Like, I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t morally opposed to it, I wasn’t refraining from masturbation in order to show respect for my dad, and I certainly wasn’t tryin to make a bargain with God sayin, “Please, I’ll do anything to have my daddy back. I swear, I’ll never touch my naughty parts again! Just bring him back! Please, I’m begging you!” I just wasn’t in the mood, I suppose. I don’t know exactly how long it’d been that I went with “no more yanky my wanky,” but I know it was contingent upon my ability to sleep at night. And no, before you get any ideas, it didn’t have as dramatic a cum-clusion as when I went off the wanking wagon in the USAF.
That one night my dad spent in the hospital hooked up to machines after having a stroke, I barely slept. It was a fuckin absolutely terrible night. No doubt about it. The suddenness of it all, the uncertainty – like, what a fuckin nightmare, ya know? Then the next night – after having received the call from the hospital saying that he’d died not long after being removed from life support – I slept like a fuckin log. Someone could’ve been cutting my mom apart with a chainsaw in the adjacent bedroom and I would’ve slept right through the revving and the screams. It was like…in a strange way I felt relieved that the worst thing I’d always feared the most for years and years had finally happened – that I could finally stop worrying about my old man because, although for many years I liked to lie to myself sayin there were things I could do to save him, it suddenly became very hard to deny that I had absolutely no power to help him in any way, shape or form. And, because of that newfound freedom from the chains of guilt and obligation I’d been bound by, I slept great for those first couple weeks after his passing, easily getting about nine straight hours of deep-ass sleep every MF’n night. But it didn’t last though. The reality of his bein gone began to tighten its grip on my psyche. Anxiety soon returned and with a vengeance. I could no longer fall asleep at night. I’d toss and turn restlessly for hours then be fuckin miserable and exhausted the whole next day while out washin windows. To remedy this little problem of mine, I saw no other option aside from seeking shelter in the refuge of an old habit. When darkness would fall and as I lay in my bed, I would again bask in the warm glow of pornographic images flickering on the screen of my cellular phone, and soon made a steady habit of jackin myself into a nice little narcotized slumber every night after lights out.
That said, I don’t really like watching porn videos. I mean, I’m sure they got some good stuff out there or whatever, but I’m just not really into most mainstream studio-type porn, ya know what I’m talkin about? I’m talkin about the ones of the chicks with the big bolted-on tits who are always gettin fucked in crazy positions by insanely ripped guys with 10-inch cocks. I mean, the implants on these chicks are so big that their skin looks like it’s been stretched to its absolute limit to fit all that phony shit underneath there, and then when they’re gettin viciously railed from behind or from the side or from wherever really, them things don’t even bounce or jiggle at all. Maybe I’m just jealous because I don’t have an absolute hog in my pants like those guys in the videos and can’t give any females a rowdy ride the way they can, but those scenes just aren’t hot for me. I can’t relate to the actors, and what they’re doin doesn’t turn me on at all. And I hate all the stupid plots of these clips too. It’s always the same shit – slutty stepsister tricks stepbro into fucking her, cheating wife makes unwilling neighbor blow his wad in her box, predatory dad comes home from a night on the town and fucks teenage babysitter, horny milf fucks son’s best friend, blonde-haired white chick gangbanged by group of black guys, squealing Japanese girl has something strange done to her by group of Japanese men but you can’t see exactly what because everyone’s genitals are blurred out. I dunno, man. Call me picky if you want to, but all that shit’s just not for me – it’s not the typa stuff I like to watch while rubbing my painfully average-sized dick.
What I’d been into right after my dad died, the drug I’d use to lull myself to sleep every night, was this website called Chaturbate. Most of it is basically just people at home in their bedrooms playin with themselves or fuckin each other in front of a webcam on their computer. Each of these at-home “models” has a username and a “room” of their own. The homepage of this site shows row after row of rooms you have the potential of visiting. The title of each room is the model’s username and, along with that, they give you the age of the model and a brief description of what they’re up to right now – e.g. paddle ass, fingering until cum, dildo play, ahegao, sloppy blow job, fucking doggy, or anal. Those are just a few examples – in actuality, the possibilities are endless. And directly above all that information is a still-shot preview of whatever’s happening in that room when you pulled up Chaturbate on your browser or from whenever the page last auto-refreshed. Like, I’m sure there’re some details that I’m missin here, but that’s basically the long and short of it.
Also noteworthy is that when you enter somebody’s room, you’ll be able to watch ‘em live, and if you’re a member, you can participate in the accompanying chats that appear alongside the models’ livestreams. In these chats, you can talk with the models and make requests like “take off pants,” “bend over/spread cheeks,” “spit down onto tits,” “stick bottle up ass,” et cetera. Many of these requests come with a price that’s listed in tokens. To give you an example of what these requests cost, at the time of writing this, users can buy 100 tokens for the price of $10.99USD. I just clicked on a random couple’s room from the first page – the page of the most popular performers who might have thousands of people watchin ‘em at a time – scrolled down to their tip menu and am seein that for a hundred tokens, this particular female model is willing to deep-throat her partner’s dick for your entertainment. If she gets tired of deep-throating the dick and wants to stop, you can make her keep going with additional tips of 50 tokens. For 300 tokens, the guy will eat the chick’s pussy. For 500, she’ll stick a dildo in her ass. For 1500, he’ll fuck her pussy while the dildo’s still in her ass. And for 3000 tokens, you get to choose exactly where the guy’ll cum on his girlfriend. Of all the tokens earned by a performer during any given session, I believe they only walk away with half. Chaturbate – who essentially serves as their pimp – keeps the other half for themselves for having provided this platform on which to get naked and get all these tips from strangers around the world who apparently have nothing better to spend their money on.
Beyond all that good stuff, the thing about Chaturbate that I found most interesting is the site’s use of “teledildonic” technology. Now, you might be scratchin your head and wonderin, “Well, gee whiz Tim – what the heck is teledildonic technology?” That’s a good question and I’m sure the answer is very interesting, but I’m not a scientist, so aside from tryin to explain the basic concept of teledildonics for ya here, I’m not really gonna get into it. What ya need to know for the purpose of understanding a certain function of Chaturbate is that teledildonics is a technology that allows for the vibration of dildos to be controlled remotely – like via the Bluetooth function of a cell phone, for example. Like, if I’m out to dinner with my girlfriend and she’s got one of these miniature vibrating dildos inside of her and I got the app controlling it, she’s at my mercy. I can buzz her every now and then throughout the meal and she might let out a little sigh or, if I’m feeling particularly devilish, I can turn it up to eleven – I can fuckin’ crank it like Soulja Boy – and have my lover squirting under the table and moaning uncontrollably and makin a big fuckin scene in whatever restaurant we’re at. You get the general idea?
How this concept applies to Chaturbate is slightly different. Quite a few models have these devices inside ‘em at all times during their broadcasts and, instead of bein controlled by an app on someone’s phone, these ones are controlled by the tips of the viewers in a model’s room. Registered Chaturbate members can view a menu from where they can select how long and at what intensity they’d like to buzz the holes of a model, and then subsequently pay the corresponding amount of tokens to have their wishes carried out. Now, when I go on Chaturbate, I’m not there to interact with the models. Like, I don’t have any special requests, I’m not setting anyone’s dildo off with tokens, and I could give less of a fuck where the guy cums on the chick or whether or not he cums at all for that matter. To me, these people are doin whatever they’re doin and I’m just poppin in their rooms long enough to get the inspiration I need to get hard, shoot a load into a Kleenex and then pass the fuck out so I can be well-rested for work the next day. Some might say I’m a cheapass for never tippin any of the models, but it is what it is. I am who I am.
All that said, in some of the rooms I’ve been in, there actually are guys who set those dildos off nonstop. The chick’ll be layin there on the bed with her legs spread, lookin at the camera, dancin around to some sexy music and someone will tip her. As the vibrations hit her G-Spot, the chick starts moaning and rubbin her clit. Another tip comes in – a stronger one this time – that causes her to start breathin a bit more heavily. “Yes, yes, more, more,” she pants. Another tip comes in – this one at the strongest intensity and lasting for fifteen seconds. She shrieks and starts to bounce around now with her titties jigglin all over the place. “Ohhhh,” she moans. “So good. Don’t stop. Ohhhhhhh.” And they don’t stop. The tips keep comin in.
As I’m layin in bed rubbin Vaseline into my penis while takin in all this strange stimuli, I’m tryin to imagine the person doin all this tipping. I wonder if makin this chick cum like that with his tokens from wherever he is on the other side of the world makes him feel like a big man. Then my thoughts are diverted by some other guy on the room’s chat board sayin how hard the performer is makin his 9-inch penis right now, and how he wishes he could slide his 9-inch penis inside of her. And I’m like, “Does the guy really have a 9-inch penis? I don’t think so. But I mean, even if it is true – what’s the point of mentioning it here for other horny guys like me to see while we’re all pleasuring ourselves at home? Like, no one cares – ya know? The model’s not gonna read that and be impressed and invite you to get on a plane to come perform with her in her home, so…shut the fuck up. Do like MJ says and just beat it – ya know what I mean?” Then another user – a troll – says that he thinks the performer’s too skinny. He says her tits are too small and her ass is too bony. He says to fuck her would be like doin it with a 14-year-old. The other guys tell him that the performer is 21 years old and if he doesn’t like her body type, he can get the fuck out. The troll calls the rest of the spectators in the room pedophiles. He says they’re all fuckin sickos and that Chris Hansen is coming. Not to worry though, he’s promptly kicked outta the room by a moderator. The tips keep comin in. The vibrations continue to stimulate the girl’s sensitive parts. And as this positive feedback loop goes on to repeat itself indefinitely – until the performer goes offline, I suppose – I shoot my semen into a tissue, crumple it up, throw in onto the lower shelf of my nightstand, shut my phone off, roll over and go to sleep.
Although for me Chaturbate has served its purpose, I can’t help but feel a bit disturbed that this is what our sexuality as human beings has evolved into. I’m not a prude or anything like that. I’m not one of those creeps that thinks sex should only be used for the propagation of our species and that it’s wrong to use these parts of our bodies to experience pleasure. I just think it’s fuckin weird that humans used to exist in these nomadic tribes wandering around the savannahs of Africa hunting and gathering, and it was always the strongest man that could provide the most food for the tribe that got all the best pussy, and all that somehow turned into this shit right here that I just talked about. Nowadays, a man’s status as powerful and thus desirable has nothing to do with hunting. It’s more about how much disposable income he has and how much the female can get her hands on, yet not even the richest man actually gets any pussy in this situation because the pussy’s all digital – it’s just some goddam signal beamed through thin air and converted into an image that flashes in front of my face on some handheld device I happen to own that was made by kids in some Chinese sweatshop. And here I am – just another broke-ass millennial jerk livin at his parents’ house that never gets any pussy – and I fit into this picture by consuming these images and blowing my chowder into a biodegradable rag up in my childhood bedroom like some kinda fuckin chump. It’s insane. It’s insane to think about. The reality of that situation – that Chaturbate exists, remote-controlled dildos and all – just absolutely blows my fucking mind.
So, sometime in 2020, all these thoughts’d been swirlin around in my head for some time and I could no longer keep ‘em to myself, so I voiced ‘em to a buddy of mine named Damian. I texted him pretty much all I said in the previous paragraph. He read my shit and agreed that, yeah, it’s pretty weird that this is what it’s all come down to. But he said that that stuff’s not nearly as weird as some of the fetishes he’s heard of that some of our fellow human beings have come up with in recent decades. He said that that’s where, in his opinion, our sexuality has truly gone astray. He made a pretty good point and I agreed. I mean, I’d heard of some pretty bizarre shit in my day, but nothing quite as bizarre as what I was about to be told. Damian then proceeded to ask me if I’d ever heard of mummy pissing. I said that I hadn’t. Well, he told me he’d been talkin to this gay acquaintance of his recently and the guy told him all about it. It’s his fetish, Damian said. It’s the way the guy prefers to “make love.” My buddy then explained to me that the guy…
“…likes getting all bound up in bandages like an Egyptian mummy from head to toe with just a piece of garden hose in his mouth sticking out for air. Then some other dudes put a funnel in the end of the hose and take turns pissing into it and he has to drink it while trying to breathe. I asked him – but how do you get off? You’re all wound up, your dick is inaccessible and you’re just drinking piss. What’s the end game? What’s in it for you? He said once they all got done pissing, they’d flip him over, rip a hole in the bandages over his butt and take turns fucking him in the ass. My same question again…what’s in it for you? He asked me – you ever had a bunch of guys rail your ass one after the other? I can’t say that I have, I responded. He said eventually they jackhammer your prostate so hard that you blow your load. That’s fine I said, but once again, why do the mummy thing? It just seems like so much work.”