The Dodson Generational Effect

Dearest Betty

I've been a happy jack-off artist for as long as I can remember; I just passed forty and I'm still at it like when I was twelve, and I'll keep doing my gooey-fisted slam dance as long as I can still find my cock. Like any solo sex maven in the know, I've also been a fan of yours for many years.

I first heard about you from my mother -that's right. Back in the early seventies, my mother extended a business trip to New York just to attend one of your famous Bodysex Workshops. She returned with the zeal of a true believer, exhorting everyone (it seemed like everyone at the time anyway) to masturbate. I can remember overhearing her on the telephone to her friends, telling about the group masturbation ritual and urging them each to masturbate more. She described the workshop in detail and the idea of a circle of masturbating women aroused me greatly, and became a frequent (and elaborate) masturbation fantasy, though I edited out my mother. Sometime later, I found her copy of Liberating Masturbation and read it cover to cover, wanking to several orgasms in the process. Many times during my pubescent years I would sneak that thin book up to my room and pump away.

She even got a circle jerk going with three of her friends. My sister and I had been sent up to bed, but I sneaked back down later as I suspected what was going to happen. Peeking from the top of the stairs, I could see down into part of the living room. I could see two of my mom's friends, Connie and Mary, and I could hear but not see my mother and her friend Annie. Connie lay on the couch, totally nude, while Mary sat on the recliner wearing nothing but her bra. Both were masturbating: Connie strumming her clitoris with her fingertips and Mary making tight circles with her middle finger.

I got hard as I watched and started grinding against the floor. After a while Connie's motions over her clit grew more rapid and soon her hand was a blur as she drove herself over. I had never seen another person orgasm before and I came in my pajama bottoms, aroused by the spectacle. Mary's climax was more sedate but no less engrossing to me, and soon after I could hear my mom and Annie getting off as well.

I got a lot of masturbatory mileage out of that incident, whacking off again and again as I recreated that scene in my mind.

My mother's enthusiasm for promoting masturbation was not confined to her own friends. Each of my friends, when he was at the house, was asked how often he masturbated, and no matter what the answer, he was encouraged to do it more. Most of my pals were cool with the whole thing, regarding it as another of my mother's eccentricities-though one fellow did blab it around school. I was somewhat of a laughingstock for a while, and I was even obliged to fight a couple of times. But my real friends all were cool with my mother the masturbator, and she eventually settled down and returned to enjoying her vibrator in private

Eventually my friends and I were discussing the subject of jacking off without shame or awkwardness. We never did any group thing, but just having those conversations about masturbation-what we did, how often we did it, etc.-had a tremendously liberating effect. Nowadays I live far away from my home town, and those friends from those days have drifted away. I still masturbate shamelessly and enthusiastically, but I miss those conversations; not for any erotic charge, but more for the pleasure of openly sharing something normally relegated to secrecy.

Anyway, I just thought I would send this in to let you know that the benefits of your good work are still in effect, even a generation removed. We're still a long way from truly liberating masturbation as a society, but we're getting there.

Happy orgasms,
M.R.