Chapter 5
While much has been written about love between the sexes and among the sexes, comparatively little has been said in laymen's books concerning self-love and the sexuality that attends it. It is far more common than many people think, and we are not here discussing youth and youthful practices. We are talking about adults. Both men and women indulge in self-love, some of them extensively and even for a lifetime. Let us consider the case history of Steven Howe, a twenty-year-old, good-looking fair-haired man. Steven was single; he didn't have a steady girl friend. He was not a homosexual. To all appearances, he was an ordinary fellow who minded his own business, was reasonably kind and considerate, got along well with his peers and had a fairly secure job. In general he was like a great many other young men of comparable age. He liked to wear his hair long; he dressed in the latest mod attire (with some restraint because of his job) and he was well aware that he presented a good and likable image. However...
Steven Howe did not care to go out with girls, except on rare occasions.
He had no real intimate friends of either sex, yet he was not the typical loner, for he enjoyed being around people some of the time.
Steven Howe was a self-lover. How he had become one even he did not know. It seemed he had always been like this. In the very early days of his masturbation he had thought he was possibly crazy, or at best anti-social, but as he grew older and read on the subject of masturbation, he realized that he was different from most men and that he very likely always would be.
He vastly preferred imaginatory love to any other form of sexual pleasure.
He held rein on his senses by being constantly aware of his fantasizing.
It was early evening and Steven Howe was home, in his apartment, having worked hard all day at his job with the large mercantile firm downtown. He had a drink when he came home and was now in the bathroom stripping off his clothes, getting ready to take a shower. When he was nude and had adjusted the water so that the temperature was just right, he stepped under the falling stream of water and soaped his entire body.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back so that the water would wash the soap from his face and neck. He had a dislike of soap getting in his eyes, which most people have. However, with Steven it was almost a violent dislike. Because he was a self-lover, soap in his eyes affected him this way. It was not good to do any sort of harm to the thing he loved most - his own body. He had very decided attitudes about certain matters, particularly those sexual things dealing with his body. There were times when he would have doubts about himself and his lifestyle, but these doubts would soon dissipate and he would regain his self-confidence and continue with his mode of living, his manner of action.
Now, he stepped out of the shower and briskly rubbed his strong, powerful body with a thick towel until he was dry. He did not wrap a robe about his nudity but instead deliberately walked into the bedroom and stood looking at his reflection in the full-length mirror, liking what he saw, enjoying the sight of his own nakedness.
This was not merely ego. It was genuine fondness.
Ego did enter into it a moment later. "Hi, baby," he said to his own reflection, kidding himself really. "You look pretty good for a dumb bastard." He glanced down at his limp penis. "Man," he said, as if talking to it. "You sure are small tonight. Have to do something about you." This may have sounded slightly mad, but the redeeming thing about it was that Steven Howe was fully aware of it. He grinned. "Have to watch this talking-to-my-own-reflection bit," he murmured. "I'll be cracking up one of these days if I don't." He did not really mean this for one moment. It was just another instance of kidding himself for the purpose of gaining a laugh. Steven enjoyed laughing, and quite often at himself.
He playfully pulled the hair on his chest, watching the reflection of himself doing it. "Looks like it's growing longer of late," he muttered. "Wonder if a guy's chest hair gets longer when he gets older." He could have cared less about this - it was just more of the same thing - the playing with himself in every conceivable manner.
His fingers stole down to his penis. He jacked himself gently, slowly, his tube growing and hardening quickly. Soon it was erect and firm. Steven grinned at the reflection of it. "Pretty little devil," he muttered, pleased with himself. "Wonder if I should make him spurt?" While he intended this to be a sort of question, he had no intention of attempting to answer it verbally. Action was the way to answer questions.
Wasn't it?
Steven grinned. "A psychiatrist would say I was completely gone, I'll bet," he murmured. "I wonder if I just might be."
He shrugged. "Hell with it," he said a moment later. "Enjoy yourself, baby. What else is there, really?"
He went to the bed and lay down on it, his hand gently massaging his penis. Thrills ran through him, one after the other. He knew he was not going to merely masturbate this time. This time he was going for the supreme kick.
Steven Howe was going to fuck himself.
Crazy? Possibly. But there are many people of this type to date, mostly unknown to sex scientists.
Steven Howe drew his legs up over his head until his feet were touching - and even pressing against the wall over the head of his bed. Because he had done this many times, it was no problem to balance himself in this unnatural position.
He allowed his crotch region to settle down slowly, until his prick was near his mouth. Wild excitement running through him now, he parted his lips and with some maneuvering, he managed to thrust the head of his cock into his mouth. At the same time his lips fastened happily about his cock head, his fingers began to stroke the hardened tube farther back.
For anyone walking into the room it would have been a wild-looking scene indeed. A young man on his back, his body doubled over himself, his feet against the wall in back of his head and his cock in his mouth.
Steven Howe committed the ultimate in self-love acts.
He jacked off into his own mouth.
Or, as he preferred to think of it, he had intercourse with himself.
The hot, thick fluid streamed into his aching throat and he swallowed it down greedily. Every drop of it. He sucked his own penis until it was dry. Remaining in this position for a few moments afterward, he squeezed and massaged his prick, wondering if he should repeat the process. Finally, however, he brought his legs down in place and lay quietly on the bed, a smile of satisfaction on his face.
"It's beautiful," he said aloud.
Was Steven Howe a lunatic or perhaps a jerk?
Who can say?
How many men can honestly claim at least during some period of their lives that they have not had the thought of pleasing themselves in a manner more exciting and gratifying than simple, ordinary masturbation?