ASCII porm image for the post A lifetime of wanking

A lifetime of wanking

I have a long history of wanking under my belt, so to speak. I started noticing that touching myself felt good at a young age, and since I am an older gentleman I didn’t have the advantage of the internet to help satisfy my sexual curiosity. So like many other young men I found my inspiration in the pages of a department store catalogue, specifically the lingerie pages. Now you wouldn’t think these could be that inspirational, but you would be very wrong. To my youthful eyes pictures like this were the closest thing I would see to a naked woman for a few years and so I would take the latest issue from the tray at the bottom of the TV stand (A black and white TV to give you an idea how long ago it was) into my bedroom with the race car wallpaper for a bit if personal time with my penis.

A catalog image of women in lingerie for a Lifetime of wanking post

This kept me occupied until a neighborhood friend showed me a copy of Playboy that they had nicked from their Father. That was eye opening and provided me my first look at a fully naked adult woman, that fired my imagination and kept me warm on a lot of cold winters nights. My friends Dad was obviously quite the perv because other magazines quickly followed, Hustler, Penthouse and now I had not only seen naked, but also actual sex. This led to a lot of wanking and a lot of stiff socks (Hey, we all did it) because for some reason that seemed like a better option that getting a tissue and putting it in the trash. I’m going to go with, I was ecologically aware and you can choose to believe me or not.

1976 Penthouse cover for a Lifetime of wanking

Pictures like the one on this cover stayed with me for a long time and possibly brought me to an important wanking aid, lube, well not lube exactly because it was the dark ages and lube was not something you could ask your mom to put on the weekly shopping list. But TV came to my rescue and showed me something that we might already have ready at hand. Johnson’s Baby Oil.

This was a revelation because as a horny circumcised young man I was finding that just using my hand was causing a bit of… chaffing. Look this was before the internet or cable TV even existed I had a lot of time on my hands  and so like many people wanking was a good way to spend that time.

Then I had my first sexual encounter where the number of participants was greater that one. I liked it, I liked it a lot. We pretty much did it every time we were even vaguely near each other. But, that doesn’t mean I stopped wanking because there was also remembering the sex I had just had once I got back home and my first experience of using technology, the telephone. Now we didn’t have it easy like the kids do today when I say a telephone I mean this.
Rotary Dial Slimline phone for a lifetime of wanking

Our telephone was downstairs in the “Rec room” and had a very long cord that while it wouldn’t reach into my bedroom would reach into what was known as the “Powder room” and as teens were often known to do we spent hours talking on that phone. Well, when I say talking I really mean having phone sex and wanking, she was very good at it, or at least that is how I remember it, I had nothing to compare it to and it was all very exciting. One thing I am sure of, even if she didn’t say so, was that my mother had to be grateful  that the days of crunchy socks were over!

Life moved on and so did my first sexual partner and while there were many other partners there was also always plenty of wanking. Eventually I got married and had children. But marriage doesn’t mean the end of pleasuring yourself and so while I didn’t do it as much as before I certainly never quit and now I had cable television which brought more adult content right into my home. I put it to good use. But there was something new that none of us expected, a stunning innovation that revolutionized the world and brought a whole new way of showing sex and sexual desires. The internet!

Now the web didn’t leap into existence no matter what the youth of today might think. The early days meant hours of tying up the phone line to download something that maybe kind of looked like porn if you squinted.

It is a marvel that people were willing to spend so much time and, or money to do this, but we did and because we did you folks have unlimited access to all kinds of depraved filth that we could only dream about. I must have used hundreds of the free ‘100 hours of internet’ from AOL to download (yes download, streaming was not a thing over dial-up) pictures and stories and eventually movies (anyone else remember Usenet?)

Many years have passed since those heady early days of the World Wide Web and while lots of things have gotten worse, access to wanking material certainly hasn’t. And my life has changed as well, I have kids and also Grandkids. I got divorced and re-married, I have had a lifetime of changes and adventures, some good, some bad. But even as I get older I have found that wanking has not changed that much for me other than I don’t do it alone. I have a partner that greatly enjoys seeing and participating in good a wank and that brings a whole new level of fun and excitement to something that after all these wanking years you would think would have become dull and boring. But it has not, so I say to all of you men out there, whether it be nearer the beginning of your adventures in masturbation, or like me you are a more mature wanker, enjoy every bit of the journey and give yourself the pleasure of a good old wank if and when you feel like it. As the saying goes, no one knows you like you know you.

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Transgender flag for stand and fight post

Stand and Fight by Iscah Eve

I’ve always struggled with belonging. It’s part of what makes me, me, I guess… a constant suspicion that something isn’t right about who I am, or what I’m doing, or even why things happen in my life. Yet a much larger part of me, frankly, doesn’t care how uncomfortable I am and acts in complete defiance of those thoughts.

Understanding womanhood has been no different for me. I am a woman, a beautiful, resilient, strong one, but finding my place in womanhood often comes with challenges, ergo my appearance, my attitude, my strength and career, and an often perilous unwillingness to give up in the pursuit of improvement and happiness.

In the real world, I’m a transgender active duty service member, so I must disclose to you, readers, that the opinions expressed in this article are my own and do not reflect the view of the Department of Defense or the United States government.

As a federal employee, the intent of the proposed transgender memorandum written by the Department of Health and Human Services effect me personally. Despite having changed my gender completely on every legal document discerning of who I am, I’ve become increasingly at risk of losing that identity by a crusade set on seeing me removed. First they came for my career and now they come to erase the possibility of my existence in the first place by removing ‘gender’ from the equation. It’s easier to get rid of something when you kill the roots and all of that.

So, perhaps the most inclusive form of womanhood that I’ve experienced so far has been the consistent attacks against it.

The first time I realized this was in a pretty big way, when my white, male doctor tried to warn me that by taking “women’s hormones”, specifically, as a “man taking women’s hormones”, I’d go crazy, yet, he vocalized that how supportive he was of me being transgender and of me transitioning. He couldn’t explain “how” I’d become more crazy, and finally found a way to vocalize his concern by saying “Well, you know how women are. You’ll be like that.”

It hit me like a slap to the face I guess. I wanted to ‘be like that’, I looked up to women and prayed about being just like them, in every possible way, for so long. His perception of women was that, as a normal, they were crazy. This was just a different way to say that ‘women are hysterical’ by someone who I thought ought know and care more, someone educated and privileged and, in that moment, directly and ideologically in charge of my wellbeing. He didn’t stay my doctor for long after this.

One of the more surreal experiences was the loss of friendships. Coming out wasn’t hard for me, I did it one day during roll call pretty early after the Air Force’s iteration of guidance for transgender service members, and for all intents and purposes, it was a positive experience for me. There was a very small scattering of disparaging comments from some of the more brazen civilian employees, but not a single one of my brothers and sisters made me feel unwelcome, with a bare minimum of inappropriate questions that were handled in a professional, calm manner… that is, until many months later when they felt emboldened.

Twitter has, a lot of the time, brought to me some of the best friendships and joy I’ve had in my only sort of young life. So it came with a lot of sadness when I saw a tweet by my oh so loving elected leader from this favourite social community of mine that I was suddenly and abruptly ‘not welcome, capable, or worth being’ in my career. I was pulled into an office that morning to asked, as all good First Sergeants do, if I was okay and if I could work or needed time off. I could work, but of course I wasn’t okay.

Not all of my once supportive coworkers remained supportive. “Well, of course he’d ban it. If you’re born with a dick you’re a man, why should the taxpayer be responsible for you to cut off your pecker?” was the very first comment I heard about it, said someone I never expected. More of this said differently with the same underlying meaning from increasingly empowered bigots followed and it wasn’t very clear to my supervision how to handle it, except from my section lead, who put an immediate stop to any and all comments once she overheard an argument from someone who supported me and someone who didn’t. She didn’t care how powerfully they felt about their opinions, I was to be treated with the same respect I had before and that was that, except that it wasn’t. What had been said was said and there wasn’t going to be take backs later, they weren’t disciplined and I was moved somewhere else where the animosity couldn’t be felt in the air.

These people have mostly been silenced in the greater public voice. Uniformed leadership understands that there isn’t room to treat me with disrespect and adversaries are denied a public forum to talk about me negatively to their begrudging dismay, but I’m constantly reminded that the threat looms just around the corner, or that it’s ‘only a matter of time’ for them to be given the freedom to be hateful.

I’m stronger than them, though. I will continue to outlast and stand in defiance of hatred by doing my job and performing at a level that isn’t easily matched by others. I mean, you know how women are, don’t you? If you don’t, this is how we are… we’re strong, capable, and we persist through an existence of continued hatred. Our bodies are constantly being debated by the court of public opinion and courts of law if they even belong to us, our minds are thought to be inferior and our opinions don’t really matter.

This battle, for me, continues here with the Department of Health and Human Services’ transgender memorandum. I am a tall, muscular woman. Taller than most men and certainly built stronger, yet, my body continues to confuse these people who hate me. I face increasing discrimination by the powerful and people temporarily in charge and the discomfort for myself and, certainly, others continues daily. I’m doing the things that need to be done by being the positive metric, but we still need help. Gender exists and cannot be stamped out overnight to further support an agenda that says womanhood is only about your vagina or chromosomes and being a man is all about having a cock. That it’s something that can be defined.

This isn’t just about our bodies. For me, it’s been about overcoming my adversaries and fighting for our rights. It’s been about being ignored, denied, ridiculed, shamed, and so many others. It’s been about living in fear that I won’t get to decide who or what I am, but, it’s also been about being understood by other women. Having my concerns shared and plights acknowledged. Transgender women are women, and transgender men are men.

Get out and vote.  We can and will win this fight together.

ISCAH EVE
WickedWarWitch.com

The author of this piece declined to take the payment for writing this blog post and so we made a donation to a charity of their choice which was Transequality.org

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