Be Kind Rewind

Horatio writes: Over the past couple of weeks we have collected a slew of "first encounter with porno video" recollections from pee-wee Christopher Columbuses across the country. Hard to believe from the perspective of our Youporn era in which video is so easily accessible, but our generation's first encounters with moving images of the sex act variety were often more terrifying than erotic. T. from Brooklyn told us how he first watched a friends video at aged 13. It was a piece of Swedish erotica featuring a gent in white pants being orally pleasured by a nurse. "I looked on aghast, amazed by the special effects that were being employed in a movie that had an otherwise shoddy aesthetic. At first I thought she was faking it. Employing that trick we all did with a plastic sword -- you know the one where you mime swallowing it whilst actually sliding it down the side of your cheek. But then they cut to a frontal angle where it became clear that no, this was actually going right down her mouth like some kind of David Copperfield illusion. And I sat there horror struck at this act of sheer violence."

Michael from Brooklyn had a different problem. At fourteen years of age, he uncovered his Dad's Beta video stash -- four movies -- when his mother and father were away for an anniversary weekend and spent two days in a kind of 18 rated version of Home Alone rewinding and fast forwarding through the footage. He remembered it this way, "I spent the first day getting familiar with the story lines and the peculiar rhythms of porno films, and the second 24 just rubbing my penis raw. I absolutely pummeled my crotch. I was unfettered and free. My parents were away. The only challenge I faced was that the video player was really old school... one of those huge top loading clunkers with a remote control that was attached to the actual machine by a thin plastic pipe. And I would sit there frantically fast-forwarding through to my favorite scenes, beating off with one hand whilst trying not to get my hard-on caught in the
wire emerging from the remote control I held in the other. "

Brave explorers. Please send in your stories today. We would love to hear them.

We're All a Bunch of Animals

As frequent readers our our blog know, the fervent curiosity of TBG knows no limits. So it's little wonder that all this scientific discussion of man's self-pleasure in the analog age got us thinking-- what about the animals? Surely they who have never had access to X-Rated DVDs, streaming amateur video, or Astroglide have found ways to make do? From horses to monkeys and even kangaroos, biologists consider autoeroticism in the animal kingdom as a perfectly normal and acceptable behavior.

The female porcupine, for example, will use a stick as a vibrator, holding one end of a stick between her paws and walk around, straddling the stick as it bumps against the ground and vibrates against her genitalia. Strong work, porky, strong work.

See more funny videos at CollegeHumor

The Long Jump

Horatio writes: We are on the lookout for tales of aspirational length. And we are not talking about your manhood. Rather, we are interested in hearing about those memorable times when you have exploded out of the blocks and shot your stuff across the room. If you know what we are talking about (and we think you do) please email us now.

True Beat Generation Gets A Theme Song!

We'd say we don't deserve it but, well, we kind of do. Huge thanks to Cold River of Brooklyn, NYC who wrote, created, and recorded a song, "She's Always There," based on our stories! A terrific song in its own right it's also the first song dedicated to a masturbation blog. Go figure.

Free TBG t-shirt to the first reader who can successfully pleasure himself to it.

Listen to the song here!

Steve Jobs/Hand Jobs

Horatio writes: Regular readers know we are in the midst of some important research in the name of science, reuniting a cadre of plucky volunteers across the country with the formative material that used to catalyze their fantasies in the days before the internet. A long way of saying, we have invited 25 friends to toss one off to a vintage copy of Sports Illustrated's swimsuit edition to see if it was as arousing an experience as we remember it to be. This just in from the amazing Mike of the Upper East Side of New York:

When I had the opportunity to take part in this very scientific self love study I knew I would be a great subject. I take a quiet pride in the fact that one of my greatest achievements in life is the extent to which I have taken "beating it" to an art form. From the age of 13, whether I was single, involved with a girlfriend, or even now as a married man, I have always made sure I have had quality time to love myself. Daisy Duke, Susan Somers from Threes Company, the chick from Weird Science, Big haired girls in glam rock videos, Olivia Newton John (I am sure I was not alone in wanting to Get Physical with that naughty Aussie), my 8th grade bio teacher etc etc. The girls who have starred in my mind as my lubriderm coated shlong danced in my hand is as long as the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

My formative beating years were late '80's and early '90's. As a result, I was not afforded the technology enhanced luxuries of todays youth. Easy access to hardcore porn was just a dream of mine back in '87. Yeah I had access to my dad's BETA porn collection but the pressure to make sure the tape was at the exact spot my dad left it was psychologically too much for me to bear. Even with the BETA numerical counter I still thought my father would eventually confront me about his beloved "Inside Seka" tape not being at the scene he left it at. I was forced to rely on the interactions between my fertile imagination and the periodicals of the day. Obviously Sports Illustrated Swim Suit was a beating gold mine and so I should have been the perfect guinea pig for this True Beat test. But when I heard about it, I was originally skeptical about getting back into the game and picking up a 1987 SI Swimsuit Edition now that we are in 2008. Full disclosure: I have an extremely carefully curated DVD collection that really never fails me. Once the wife and kids are asleep I know all I have to do is press play and 30-45 seconds later I can wipe up and go to sleep. Wouldn't using an '87 SI be like turning off my computer and going back to a typewriter? Should I turn my back on all the self loving progress 2 decades have afforded me?

That being said it is really hard to describe the feelings I had when the February 9th 1987 Elle Macpherson SI arrived in my mailbox. Now that I am a family man I could not just run to the bathroom and go to work on myself. In fact before I had a chance to test drive it, I had many nights where I would just thumb through the pages as my wife read her Us Weekly on the couch beside me as I waited for her to go to sleep. I saw so many ads and articles that transported me back to my childhood that I almost forgot what this project was about. An ad for "Mannequin" starring Andrew Mccarthy and Kim Catrall as well as those ugly black Reebok hightops that were famous in those glory days almost brought a tear to my eyes. I was entranced as I thumbed through the pages feeling transported to back to the days of Aiwa Walkmans, Gordon Gecko cell phones, and basketball shorts that ended just below the pubic hairs. I was actually suffering from some sort of masturbatory a.d.d as I was seriously getting way off topic. Finally my wife and kids went to my in-laws on a Thursday evening and I could get back to the project at hand before joining them the next day. The million dollar question in my mind was "Can Elle, Kathy Ireland and the chocolatey Karen Alexander still get my huevos in a tizzy. Well I am glad to report that some things are timeless. I am a nostalgic guy and I seriously don't know if it was the ads, the typeface, or the bad aqua netted hair in the pages of the mag but something clicked. Elle and the girls helped me bag a hat trick in approx 20 minutes. Here I am a 35 year old man with my suit pants pulled to my ankles enjoying masturbatory bliss I have not felt since those lazy days of my past. I felt like the skinny geek of my past using an SI in the bathroom when I should be practicing my haftorah. The fact that you can only see a hint of nipple just works for me. These kids today never had to use their imaginations to project what lurked behind that soaking wet white bikini top or experience the giddy bliss on the rare occasion we got lucky and could actually see the outline of the nipple. But it was magic nonetheless. I sat in my bathroom exhausted yet content and as I looked down and saw my i-Phone sitting on the floor next to Ms McPherson circa 1987, appreciating that despite the technological revolution that we have lived through, some truths have never changed.

A Little Something For the Weekend Sir? Miss Piggy

I first became aware of the extent of my attraction when Brooke Shields guested on the show, right when she was riding high on her commando-Calvin Klein wearing exploits. There was no greater sex symbol in America right then and I am sure that 93% of the male population of this country had tuned in to watch her strut her stuff. But as the duo went through the motions of their act -- a song and dance routine to some showtune or other -- I realized that it was Piggy I could not keep my eyes off. She had a true animal magnetism that was arousing, personifying a passion that far surpassed that I had ever seen in any human. From that day forth, I excused myself as soon as the show was about to come, taking my leave from the rest of my family and sequestering myself alone in my bedroom, where I could watch the performance with my sweat-pants round my ankles, which come to think of it, was probably how Stadler and Waldorf enjoyed the show.

When I was done, I will admit I felt a mix of guilt and confusion. Partially because I was beating off to a pig. And partly because I was beating off to a puppet. With a voice accented by a dude.
But I know I am not alone in having these "feelings." And here is the proof. Someone took their time to carefully create this. And this. It is time those of us who feel this way stand up and be counted or create a facebook group or something. Please be in touch via this site.

Porn and Bathrooms

A quick Google search of "Porn and Bathrooms" reveals no less than 233,000 entries. A number that, while not quite astonishing, is ample enough to warrant an inquiry into the relationship.

As a kid growing up in the 70's and 80's, bathrooms were the de facto location for beating off. It was where you went when you needed a little "me" time. Whether the material in hand was dad's Playboys stashed beneath the sink, or pleasant thoughts of inadvertent elbow titty, bathrooms were as essential to beating off as phone booths were to the boy from Krypton.

From hour long showers to stealthy midnight trips, from Portnoy to Brad Hamilton, from innocence to experience, thanks to this symbiotic relationship a generation of boys became men.

Today, thanks to WiFi, the teens of today need never leave the warm confines of their bed to experience digitally what we had to scavenge for, or conjure up mentally. Lucky, spoiled bastards.

A Little Something For the Weekend, Sir? Geraldine Ferraro

Horatio writes: As regular readers know, we are intensely political creatures here at True Beat Generation and this week's mano-mano between Obama and Clinton has gotten our juices flowing. Don't get us wrong. Our senses are not titillated because the future of our country is at stake. We could care less. Rather, watching Hillary, a monster for sure, makes us long for those all-too-brief summer days in 1984 when Geraldine Ferraro filled our screens as the decrepit Walter Mondale's eye candy/running mate. Political scientists have long agonized over what made Ferraro the VP choice, plucked from the obscurity of congress. Perhaps it was just that she matched up well when physically juxtaposed to Barbara Bush. But we think it was something more than that. This was a politician we believed in. Because she was one hot little vixen. Blond. Pert. Foxy. A vision in white whilst declaring her candidacy. Geraldine was eerily in touch with her core electoral base. When she came out with the line addressing the "children of America" at 27 seconds, it was as if she was omniscient. Giving all of us fourteen year-olds who were at home watching the speech in our suburban basements with our pants around our ankles a knowing shout-out.

B.T.G.O.F

Buy two, get one free. What shopper of VHS and then DVD porn in the 80's and 90's doesn't remember this ingenius selling tactic? Behind the blacked out windows and usually near the register was almost always a bookshelf, crate, or cardboard box full of the worst selling, most amateur, lowest production quality videos in the store. From three toothed interracial meth addicts to first time lesbians with Cesarian scar fetishes, this bargain bin of filth was truly the bottom of the bucket. Depraved, disgusting, base and vile, this was the worst the industry had to offer. The red headed step children of an otherwise respectable and long-standing profession.

And yet, buy one, get two free...

Damn you, Marketing Genius God of Porn! You're irresistible!

Hall of Fame: Mr. Strawberry

Horatio writes: We spend a lot of time on this website talking about the creative art of using inanimate objects such as Wheaties boxes, LP covers, and pairs of your neighbors knick-knicks blowin' in the wind, to fire up the imagination in a lusty direction. But until we encountered this video of a bloke making sweet love to a wall, we had no way of conveying exactly what this looks like. Thank you Mr.Strawberry and to reader, Billy H. who sent this our way.