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Bianca’s Smut Shack

By Spurtz

Bianca’s Smut Shack was an online community created in 1994. You can read the details in Wikipedia. Look up bianca.com on Wikipedia. It was created by Alex Thau and Chris Miller. The story I heard, but never confirmed, was that it was created as a social experiment meant to be the subject of Miller’s college thesis. The idea was to give people a site where free speech was totally unregulated and see how people would react.

There was no fee to become a registered member. About the only benefit to being a registered member was you owned your own handle and nobody else could use it on the site. Non-members were free to use any of the Shack’s features but did not have a permanent handle. I believe at some point later that a fee was charged. I don’t remember every paying anything but that might have been because I acted as a moderator for the Q&A Forum in the Shack.

In the beginning this worked pretty well. Let me describe, as best as I can remember, what the shack consisted of. It was actually a quite complex site. One of the mainstays was a series of chat rooms, said to be the first functional public chat rooms on the web. I was never a huge user of the chat rooms so I don’t remember exactly how many there were. Each one had a different theme. Some were quite tame while others were not.

In trying to research the details of the Shack, since my memory of the details is not that good, I ran across a site where a significant portion of the Shack is archived. However, only top level links are active. For example you can open various forums and click on the top level links that do open but if you try to open any lower level links, they don’t go anywhere. Here is the home page of the Shack. There is a crude drawing of a house floor plan. You can click on any of the rooms to see what’s there. The Parlor is where I spent most of my time.

There was also a series of forums where users could ask and answer questions. There were three forums located in a section of the Shack called the Parlor. One forum, that was my favorite, was a Sexual Question and Answer Forum. The page held 50 questions. As a new question was added at the top, the bottom question dropped off the list. A person could post a question and it could take a couple of weeks to work its way to the bottom. In the meantime several people could answer each question. Additionally, you could post replies or further comments under the answers. All the questions and answers that dropped off the list were archived and available if desired.

The other two forums in the Parlor were the Sexual Fetish Forum and the Sexual Fantasy Forum. One of the women in my clique moderated the Fantasy Form.

I found an archived page of the Q&A Forum. You can read the questions but the responses to the questions are not available.

https://web.archive.org/web/20050823010347/http://parlor.bianca.com/shack/parlor/questions/

The thing that is a bit mysterious about these archived pages is they are dated 2004, long after the Shack was essentially shut down in 2001. I used to check back in 2002 and other than some chat, nothing was going on. It appears that by 2004 it was somewhat operational again. And I do see a couple of names on the Q&A archived forum that I remember from my days on the Shack. Danae and Suzie Creamcheese are two of them.

Another feature of the Shack was any registered member could set up their own site within the Shack. I had a forum where I posted my movie reviews. There were a large number of these private sites. Some open to anybody and others only to friends who had to use a password to enter. The sites ranged from hard core sex to innocent stuff like my movie reviews.

One of the things that I found most appealing to the Shack was how friendships were formed and regular members would gather together into cliques. Some groups were friendly to others while there was also some animosity between groups. Overall it was an amazing online community that was seriously addicting.

There was one woman who went by the name of Psycho, who in my opinion really was a bit nuts. She had an online boyfriend named Thunder and the two of them tried to terrorize anybody who they didn’t like. One of the things that happened was the two of them had their own private site on the Shack where they shared photos of each other and also sexy private posts. One of the women in my group somehow figured out what their password was and passed it around to everybody in my group. We could go into their private site and look at their naked photos and read their private messages. And then laugh about them amongst ourselves. Sounds mean but they were both jerks.

Over time things started to get out of hand in some of the forums and Chris Miller decided to create moderators for each forum. This kind of went against the original concept for the Shack and Psycho and her group ranted and raved against it. I was appointed moderator the Sexual Question Forum. I operated using the handle Boner. Basically what I, and other moderators, did was to delete personal attacks and underage stuff.

At one point a woman asked a question about what it was like to participate in a threesome. Even though I had never been in one, I did respond to her question, also wondering what it might be like. Her handle was L.A. Gal which further intrigued me as I was also in L.A. We became online friends and swapped email and later phone numbers and eventually met in person and then six months later got married. And we both got to actually experience a threesome, which was very successful.


Lady I met throug Bianca's Smut Shack

After a couple of years, the guys behind the site held a party in San Francisco open to any of the members of the Shack. This was before I met L.A. Gal, but I attended and got to meet many of the online friends that I had made via the Shack. Some of these friendships were extremely close. One very outspoken woman lived in S.F. and invited me and several other Shack members for a drink at her apartment before we went to the party. Much later L.A. Gal and I attended her wedding which was a riot. Although we left before the action really got started, we heard that, among other things, the bride sucked off the best man in front of the entire assemblage including the groom. Unfortunately she died a few years later from some incurable disease she had been living with.

But at the party, I did meet in person one of the women who I had carried on many posted conversations with and although she was not a member of my immediate clique, I considered her a friend and was very taken with her obvious intelligence. Only to be blown away when I met her face to face as she was one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. A bit too young for me. Well, let me put that differently. I was a bit too old for her. My loss. I left the party about midnight. The venue where the party was held was really dark and consisted of a whole series of rooms broken up to where it could be easy to get lost. I did hear later that quite a bit of sex took place in the wee hours of the morning. I really didn’t expect anything like that to happen or I would have stuck around longer.

It was also great fun to meet a lot of people who I had interfaced with on the Shack site. You form an idea of what a person looks like based on a couple of years of reading their posts only to find out that they looked nothing like that.

Prior to meeting L.A. Gal I did meet in person two of the women I had originally met in the Shack. They were both in my immediate clique. Both of them lived way too far away from me for any kind of regular hookup. I did spend four days with one of them in the general area of Yellowstone National Park. Her specialty was giving deep throat blowjobs and when she had my entire cock down her throat, her tongue came out and licked my balls. We are still email buddies although she’s now happily married with several kids.

The second one flew into L.A. on her way to visit friends but spent four days with me first. Keep in mind that this was the first time I ever met her face to face. I picked her up at the airport and within 15 minutes of arriving at my house, we were both naked and fucking our brains out. It was four days of near non-stop sex including a four-way with another couple. Years later my then girl friend and I visited her and her fiancée and had a nice dinner together. No sex. We are still email buddies. My girlfriend was aware that she and I had been intimate but her fiancée had no idea. The photos included with this story are of her and me.

Back to the Shack. I went through a period where I would go into one of the chat rooms using a female handle. I would hook up with a guy and through more and more explicit chat get him to jack off for me. I know these poor guys were totally convinced they had latched onto a real sexpot.

Then things took a turn for the worse. I never knew if it was one guy causing all the grief or if it was several. Whoever it was started bombing the forums. Somehow they had figured out a way to post 50 questions in the Q&A Forum at once. It was actually the same question posted 50 times. Which of course wiped out every question and answer on the forum. Basically shutting it down. As soon as a few legit questions would start to appear, they would get wiped out.

They did this to all the forums. Then they went after the chat rooms effectively shutting them down with multiple posts. I contacted Chris Miller, one of the originators of the site, to see what could be done. The only way to combat it would be to only allow registered members to make a post. For some reason he didn’t want to do that. Part of the problem was the amount of bandwidth needed to support the site, which had grown to a huge size, was beyond Miller’s and his partner’s ability to finance it. The site was purchased by Nerve.com, an online magazine devoted to sexual subjects, in 1999. I believe Miller was somehow still involved. But by 2001, Bianca’s Smut Shack was history. I was a faithful follower the entire seven years of its existence. Almost too much. I was badly addicted to the site.

In its heyday it was to my mind the most interesting site on the internet, and not just because of the sex, although that was a powerful attraction. It’s too bad that someone hasn’t attempted to recreate it. I know that there are some sites that are somewhat similar but I’ve never found anything that comes close to what the Shack was in its prime. I’m not big on pay sites, but I would pay if the Shack could reappear in its original format.

If you google bianca.com you just get a page that says “bianca loves you.” For many years after its demise, the page also included the crudely drawn map of the site listing all the chat rooms and forums. Even after I gave up on it once the Q&A went down, I think a couple of the chat rooms limped along. And even the Q&A somehow stayed active although by then I had lost interest. The idiots who destroyed the site also lost interest and allowed the chats to continue.

There is also a bianca.org site that claims to be the real world extension of bianca.com. They have staged parties in conjunction with The Burning Man event. Their first involvement with Burning Man was in 1996 while the Shack was still active. I remember Chris Miller telling me about the event and what a trip it was to attend. According to the bianca.org site, the last event held by the group was in 2006, so that bianca effort has also appeared to have run its course.

Create Your Own Story

Hi Folks! Jeremy and I would love to hear your stories. Please write a story in the comment area below, or you can send direct to me using jenelle@sex270.com.

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Middle School Madness

Middle school sexual madness

Our school was one of the last in the country to get rid of the concept that boys swim naked, girls wear suits. Of course the girls and the boys had separate swim times, but still, I was one of the last to have to strip naked with a bunch of boys and go swimming.

But that wasn’t bad enough. This was in the days of forced integration. The schools had to mix the black and white kids. The school system in our particularly violent city had the remarkably bad idea of integrating a traditionally all-black high school, by changing it into a mixed junior-senior high school, then bringing all white 7th and 8th graders, who had to defend themselves against much larger black kids in a world where the kids of both colors were taught hate by their parents. Not only that, the school was ridiculously overcrowded.

Needless to say, I had a bad time. I had a bus pass, and had to take city two busses each way, every day. I got up ridiculously early in the morning, and got home late.

I was assaulted many times in the school, and on the busses, too. I’m not sure how I came through all that unscathed.

Due to all the mixing of kids around the city, I only knew a few kids in the whole school, and none of them were in my huge gym class of approximately 60 boys.

The teachers in this wonderful school had given up on actually teaching. The gym teachers, for instance, sat in a glass walled office overlooking the pool and shower room, reading paperbacks and not participating in any way. For the baseball rotation, all 60 kids tromped out into the school yard, and tried to figure out for themselves how to manage an inning and a half of softball with so many kids in the outfield. The teachers stayed inside.

It was only a few minutes on the field, because for some reason I’ll never know, all gym classes required two showers. We were told to shower before going out on the field, then shower again afterward.

The shower room was a big open room, with showerheads lining the walls. All the boys were naked. It was terrible, yet it wasn’t so terrible. I was rather excited by the idea of seeing other nude kids. Especially their balls and willies. I was fascinated by the black kids. Their penises were much larger. Not because they were black, although perhaps there’s an optical illusion that makes black objects seem larger than white ones. It was because they were older. They had gone through adolescence, growing full-size genitals. Most were also uncircumcised, whereas the white kids were cut. In this class, most of the big black kids had hair ‘down there.’ Most of the white kids had no hair, or were just starting out with a few straggly hairs that you could barely see. No one had an erection.

At the time, I was imagining that if any of the boys got erect, they’d be hounded out of the school. It was fashionable to point out anything ‘gay’ about another boy as a way of teasing. Having an erection among the boys would have been an over-the-top infraction of our unwritten rules.

Another thing I’ll never be able to understand is that after the showers, sometimes the three gym teachers would put down their books, come into the shower room, line us all up, then slowly walk up and down the line behind us, every now and then pointing out a boy who had dirty ankles. That’s right, these teachers seemed to be concerned specifically with our ankles. Sometimes a couple of kids would be held back while the rest of us dressed to go on to our next class. I never knew what happened with the held-back kids.

When the swimming rotation came around, I was filled with dread. The showers were bad enough. I hadn’t been naked in front of anyone since before I could remember, except for doctor’s exams. Even those weren’t naked. He’d stick his hand in my underpants, feel around for like three seconds, then get on with the rest of the exam.

The day came, and like all the other kids, almost all of which were feeling weird and shy as we were marched out of the shower room, into the echoey, windowless, green tile lined swimming pool room.

We stood along the walls shivering. The gym teachers had disappeared again. There was no instruction. A few kids jumped in, and eventually most of us did. We just splashed around a bit, then it was back to the showers. I stayed in the shallow end, because I couldn’t swim, and was afraid to put my head under water. I learned nothing in that class, and still can’t swim, fifty years later.

Nothing more happened that day. Two days later, it was another swimming day. It started the same. All sixty kids showered, then went naked into the pool room. We got in the water more quickly. At one point, a big scary black kid started swimming back and forth in front of me, and when he popped up, he whispered in a hoarse voice that he expected me to meet him behind the cafeteria after school. I didn’t know what that was about, but it scared the hell out of me. You can bet I stayed well away from behind the cafeteria for weeks after that.

There was something sexual insinuated in his request. Maybe he was offering or asking for a blowjob. I don’t know, or don’t remember. I’m not even sure I knew what a blowjob was back then. But it had an effect on me. Maybe it was the vision of his smooth, shiny black butt. Maybe it was being talked to while naked by a boy. Maybe because there was something in his voice, as if he especially liked me or something. I started growing an erection. I was immediately scared. More scared than the threat of this big black kid. In a moment, I’d have to hop out of the pool, and everyone would see me with a boner. What was I to do? What could I do? I was thinking frantically, but had no answer.

Then, one of the coaches reentered, and blew a whistle. This was the moment of no return. My erection had not subsided. I did the only thing I could do, I climbed out of the pool and lined up against the wall with the other kids. At first I tried to keep my hands in front of my erection, but I realized that only made the situation more obvious. I brought my hands to my sides, giving up. I tried acting as if I was being bold, and proud or at least indifferent to show my erection. Nothing could be further from the truth, but what else could I do? Now-a-days, I wonder about that. Why did the erection persist? Was the fear actually affecting me adversely?

I was convinced all the boys would point, and laugh, and call me all sorts of names like ‘gay’ and maybe even worse. There was a bit of snickering, and a couple of pointed fingers, but not nearly the fanfare I had worried about.

In the shower, the erection would still not go down. I had given up, and just walked around and in the locker room with it waving, sticking straight out in front of me. No one talked to me, no one said anything. There wasn’t any more snickering or pointing. Finally, I dressed, and the erection subsided.

Once I got home and to the privacy of my bedroom, I was very preoccupied with what had happened. How could I ever return to school? What was I going to do? Then too, I was feeling something else. Like every afternoon after gym class, I jerked off with memories of the naked boys. I had orgasms that were still mostly dry, maybe letting out a drop or two of clear semen. But the orgasms were very enjoyable. They also made me feel guilty. Among the other teasing and carrying on among boys my age was the general idea that masturbation was a very bad, even a ‘gay’ thing. But the orgasms were so good! After that swimming class, I was especially horned up and still scared at the same time, and jerked off big-time. When I came, for the first time in my life, the cum was thicker and had a whitish cast.

The next Tuesday was like facing a firing squad. I had to swim naked again, and I was the boy who had had an erection in front of everyone. The reaction I got as I entered the shower naked with the other kids wasn’t at all what I was expecting. Boys, both big and black, and little and white, started coming up to me and trying to start conversations. They somehow respected me, or wanted to know me or something. That was a huge surprise.

Well, that was fifty years ago. I still think about the whole thing from time to time. I know now that things were way worse than I realized at the time. The school officials should have been sued. We learned almost nothing in that school, and I do believe there was something way more off about those gym teachers than I’ll ever know. I do remember telling my parents, and they simply didn’t believe me, thinking I must be making it up, because surely a school couldn’t be that bad. And, “Why was I talking so negatively about black people?” they asked.

For high school, I was transferred to a school in my neighborhood that was all white 9th – 12th graders, and integrated with all black 7th and 8th graders.

Here’s the good news: Although I’m a high-school dropout, I’m alive, happy, well, and somewhat successful today. Although I am bisexual, I’ve been happily married to the same woman for 32 years. I don’t hate black people although I was starting to during my junior high-school years. In fact, my wife is black.

I wrote another version of this memoir here: Integration, in which I was originally too shy to mention my own erection.

Integration

Middle school integration sexual experience

Wait ’till you hear my integration story! There’s a surprising sexual part, too, a little later on in this rather long-winded post.

Right before I was to start seventh grade in middle school, our school district was federally mandated to integrate at all costs. In this case, the cost being the welfare of the children.

In their great wisdom, they took an all-black high school, and turned it into a combined junior-senior high school. And how did they do that? They brought in all white seventh and eighth grade children, and left the older, bigger black kids as-is. This was in a major city where many of the parents of both races had taught their children to hate people of the opposite color.

Instantly, from the very first day, the little white kids got pounded by the big black kids. In very short order, I learned to bring a lunch, not lunch money to school, because it was taken every single day. I was assaulted constantly, as were hundreds of other little white kids.

I complained to the teachers, the vice principal, the principal, the school board, and my parents. In every case it was, ‘We can’t do anything about it,” which I interpreted as, “We don’t really give a shit.” In fact, my parents chose to believe I was making this up. In retrospect, I understand. If they let themselves think it was real, they’d be heartbroken or worse, knowing what was happening to their child, and not being able to do anything about it.

I was given a city bus pass. I’d ride right past the local should I should have gone to, head north to downtown, wait at a transfer station for a second bus, then take that southeast to my school. It took ninety minutes each way.

Twice I was accosted on the buses. In one case, I had a broken glass bottle held against my chest. In another case, a knife against my stomach. I wasn’t actually cut in either case, but it was super-scary.

Then there were all the assaults at school. My wife says I have traces of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) to this day. One kid I know from that school was hit so hard – knocked against a table – that he required brain surgery, lost the sight in one eye, and had a very weak grip with one hand.

Toward the end of the school year, it was a hot spring day. The school did not have air conditioning. A riot broke out in the cafeteria. It wasn’t the first time, but this riot became much more severe than any prior to that. Immediately all the teachers ran out of the room. Many children were injured. Kids piled up against the doors so hard no one could get out. Chairs, trays, food and silverware flew through the air. I saw one girl get smashed in the face by a flying chair. I did not see her for the rest of the school year.

I knew the pattern could not be repeated for eighth grade, even if I myself, with no attributes other than any other 13-year-old, had to do something about it. So, I showed up the first day at East High School, the one in my own neighborhood, claiming I hadn’t received a schedule in the mail. Actually, I had wadded it up and thrown it away.

They assigned me temporary classes. For the first two weeks I was sure they’d figure out what I had done, and I’d be in big trouble. But they never found out. Unfortunately, East High School had been integrated in a similar way. Now, I was almost the only white kid among all the 8th graders, and was hated for that. All the older kids were white, but that didn’t help me any. Approaching 14 years old, my body was starting to grow, so I was less of a target.

But that’s not the worst of it. Back in seventh grade at Madison High School, the phys ed department was absolutely horrible. In my massive class of more than sixty kids, we were of all ages. I never understood that. Why not just seventh graders?

The three ‘teachers’ sat in a glass-walled office just off the shower room reading paperback books. One of the gym teachers was remarkably heavy set, just the opposite of physically fit.

If the weather was fifty degrees or above, the sixty of us would be shuffled out into the school yard, and we had to figure out for ourselves what to do, as the gym teachers stayed inside. We might play an inning and a half of softball until the time was up – with three kids on bases, a pitcher, short stop, and maybe thirty kids in the outfield and thirty more waiting to bat.

Now, it starts to get weird. For some reason, we all had to take showers before we went out into the field, or into the gym on cold days. It was a common shower room, with shower heads all along the walls. We were expected to get stark naked in front of all the other kids, which for me, and no doubt many of the others with conventional, conservative upbringing, was exceedingly scary and embarrassing.

Then, the water would be shut off, and the three teachers came out of their glass-walled office, had all the naked boys line up, and would slowly walk up and down the line, pointing out a kid here and there with dirty ankles. I’d look at the ankles of kids who were singled out, and didn’t see the evidence the teachers were claiming. These few selected boys would be held back while the rest of us put our clothes back on. I never did find out what happened with them, but have my suspicions.

We’d have about fifteen minutes for our little bit of softball or rope climbing, or dodgeball or whatever it was, then back to the showers AGAIN. Again naked, we all showered together.

I should point out that the kids in this gym class were integrated. Many of the little white kids, such as myself hadn’t grown any hair yet, and had little peckers. Some of the older black kids had the whole works, with glistening curly black hair ‘down there.’

At one point in the year, we had swimming. All the naked boys were shuffled into the pool room. It was a tiled room, with a high ceiling, and no windows. Yes, we swam naked. Now, I’m told this was fairly common in the 1950s and maybe the 1960s, but this was the early 1970s. Perhaps ours was the last school on Earth to do that. I don’t know.

We were given no swimming instruction. I don’t even recall the teachers being in the room. We just splashed around in the pool. Those who could swim, did so. Those who could not, hung along the wall at the shallow end just shivering and conversing a bit.

One day, a big black kid start swimming near me as I hung against the narrow wall, standing about chest deep in the water. He came really close to my dick several times, then squeezed behind me, between my ass and the pool wall, pinching my ass as he passed by. He then rose out of the water, and commanded me to meet him behind the cafeteria after school.

After school that day, I never ran to the bus stop so fast in my life! I was scared for days that he would find me and along with several of his friends would pound me to death. I was so scared, I dropped out of gym class. I just quit going, wandering around the halls, or escaping out of the building until the period was over. Again, I was scared to death that I’d be in big trouble.

I was never found out, and my report card showed a B for gym class every time.

Very occasionally, a kid might have an erection. At one point I was one of them. I wrote that up in a bolder version of this story here: Middle School Madness.

My own take on all this was of several sorts:

1. I was terribly embarrassed to be naked with the other kids.

2. I was scared to death by the bigger kids. Without clothes felt even more vulnerable.

3. I was somewhat sexually excited. I had started secretly masturbating at home, had no access to any sort of porn, so this much nakedness, even if all young and male, was ‘interesting.’

4. I knew however, that springing wood would be real trouble, and somehow managed not to get erect during any of those showers or swimming ‘lessons,’ except one time. When I think back on it, it’s just amazing that as a kid of that age, I had that much control.

So that was my seventh grade gym class. That, at least, was better in eighth grade at East High School.

During my Madison High days, I, who had been open-minded toward black people, learned to hate them. Over the years, as if by slow-acting magic, I became more balanced in my reasoning, knowing that black people, if given the same opportunities as white people will excel to the same degree. I met black people who were empathetic, lovely individuals, and so finally came to a much better mindset.

However, I seem to maintain a very bad attitude toward school administrators:) And that’s hilarious, because I sometimes play pickleball with a university president. OK, so I don’t hate him.

For years there was talk of class action suits against the school board, but nothing ever came of it. After all, they were just ‘doing their best’ in the face of federal mandation.

Nina Hartley Picked Me

Nina Hartley, famous porn star, picked me

This dates back many years. I attended the Masturbate-A-Thon in San Francisco. That’s where around 120 people of both sexes got naked together and wanked for charity. It was the party of a lifetime!

I wrote up the details at The Masturbate-A-Thon. Nina Hartley, one of the most famous porn stars of all time, was there as a sort of headliner. There was a famous male porn celebrity as well. I have forgotten his name. He did a sort of stripper thing on the stage where he was supposed to get erect. He couldn’t get hard, even in front of such a large naked audience. He made the best of it, then left.

There was a very good female pole dancer on the stage with very white skin, and beautiful long red hair. I have forgotten her name.

Nina didn’t really perform. She more circulated among us. For some reason, she had electrical tape Xs over her nipples. I’ve seen that before. Does anyone know what that’s about?

We were supposed to masturbate for 55 minutes of every hour. As we did so, many of us walked about and had conversations. At one point I was in a conversation with Nina about her website.

A bit later on the afternoon, she got back on the stage, and asked for volunteers. She was willing to demonstrate whatever the volunteer wanted.

There was a live feed being sent out over the internet of all the activity on the stage, later to be made into a video. When we signed into the Masturbate-A-Thon, we were asked whether we wanted to sign a video waver. Those who signed got a wrist band indicating it was OK to film them. I was like, ‘No way would I want to be on camera,’ but just in case, I signed the waiver and got the wrist band. After all, it didn’t cost anything.

When Nina asked for volunteers, my hand shot up in the air like an eager ten-year-old child. I don’t even know why.

She picked me. I came up on the stage, initially quite wary of the two clothed camera men holding big TV cameras quite close to me. She asked what I wanted. I almost didn’t want to say, what with being filmed and all.

Lately, I had been interested in testicle massage, so that’s what I said.

She had me sit in a folding chair at a 45-degree to the audience. She sat in another chair, half facing me, and half facing the audience. She reached in, and started gently fondling my balls. In a minute, she was giving me a full-on, firm testicle massage as my super erect penis waved in the air. She knew exactly what she was doing. The massage was firm enough to affirm that I was indeed alive, but not so much as to hurt. Meanwhile, one of the camera men literally held that camera over one of my shoulders, moving in for a close up. I had forgotten all about my shyness about being filmed, and was actually rather enjoying the idea that thousands of people all over the Internet were seeing me.

Soon, it felt like I’d ejaculate. I really didn’t want that. I wanted to stay aroused and enjoy the Masturbate-a-Thon to the fullest.

I guess you could say I got lucky. I didn’t ejaculate in Nina’s hands. She stopped the massage, thanking me, and asking for another volunteer. I stepped off the stage to the applause of all the naked people who had been watching.

The next guy wanted her to demonstrate a blow job, clearly in violation of the ‘rules’ or intentions of the Masturbate-A-Thon. He got his blow job from Nina Hartley. Why hadn’t I thought of that? But, I really, really enjoyed the testicle massage in front of everyone, and wouldn’t have traded that experience for anything in the world.

I have wanked many times to the memory of that event. I spent quite a bit of time on the Internet trying to find the video, but never found it.

Ben Franklin on the Choice of a Mistress


On the Choice of a Mistress

by Ben Franklin

[He recommends choosing an older, not necessarily pretty wife.]

1. Because they have more Knowledge of the world, and their Minds are better stored with Observations; their Conversation is more improving, and more lastingly agreeable.

2. Because when Women cease to be handsome, they study to be good. To maintain their Influence over Men, they supply the Diminution of Beauty by an Augmentation of utility. They learn to do a thousand Services, small and great, and are the most tender and useful of all Friends when you are sick. Thus they continue amiable. And hence there is hardly such a thing to be found as an old Woman who is not a good Woman.

3. Because there is no hazard of children, which irregularly procured may be attended with much inconvenience.

4. Because through more Experience they are more prudent and discreet in conducting an Intrigue to prevent Suspicion. The Commerce with them is therefore safer with regard to your reputation; and with regard to theirs, if the Affair should happen to be known, considerate People might be rather inclined to excuse an old Woman, who would kindly take care of a young Man, form his manners by her good Councils, and prevent his ruining his Health and Fortune among mercenary Prostitutes.

5. Because in every Animal that walks upright, the Deficiency of the Fluids that fill the Muscles appears first in the highest Part. The Face first grows lank and wrinkled; then the Neck; then the Breast and Arms; the lower parts continuing to the last as plump as ever; so that covering all above with a Basket, and regarding only what is below the Girdle, it is impossible of two Women to know an old one from a young one. And as in the Dark all Cats are gray, the Pleasure of Corporal Enjoyment with an old Woman is at least equal and frequently superior; every Knack being by Practice capable of improvement.

6. Because the sin is less. The Debouching of a Virgin may be her Ruin, and make her Life unhappy.

7. Because the Compunction is less. The having made a young Girl miserable may give you frequent bitter Reflections; none of which can attend making an old Woman happy.

8th & lastly. They are so grateful!!!”

Marshall’s Beach

World’s Most Interesting Nude Beach

A Subset of Sex270.com



Marshall’s Beach is the world’s most interesting nude beach for several reasons.

The beach is directly visible from the Golden Gate Bridge. Bicyclists and truck drivers coming into San Francisco can easily look over the railing and see sexual activity on the beach.

That’s right, unlike many beaches for nude sunbathers where sexual activity is discouraged or not allowed, on the north end of Marshall’s Beach, anything goes.

However, the weather at Marshall’s is disappointing much of the year. Most winter days are too cold to take your clothes off. In the summer, the beach is often fogged in and cold. It can be sunny and 90 degrees in nearby Oakland or Marin County, yet at the same time only 60 degrees and foggy on the beach. Sometimes, the temperature is right, there’s no fog, but you still have to check a tide chart. At high tide, much of the beach is inaccessible. So, if you’re planning to visit, click the three icons below to check the weather status.

“The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.” – Mark Twain



Tide Chart

Current Marshall’s Beach Tides

When the weather is just right, literally hundreds of people will be on Marshall’s Beach.

Marshall’s Beach is roughly divided into three sections. The entrance, at the bottom of a half-mile hike with 336 stairs, is on the south end, where most people are clothed. In the middle section you’ll find most people are nude. At the north end, you’ll discover anything from open masturbation to anal intercourse.

Due to the large gay and bisexual population in San Francisco, the majority of visitors are male.

However, on a busy day, there’s no shortage of women. Due to the city’s large Asian population, you’ll also see a number of pretty and young Asian women who enjoy showing off their bodies.

For many visitors, body dysmorphia is not an issue. You’ll see people of all ages, weights, colors and shapes.

It is easy to confuse Marshall’s Beach with Baker Beach. Baker is a world-famous nude beach. Being more conservative than Marshall’s, you’ll seldom see sexual activity on Baker Beach. Unlike Marshall’s, Baker Beach is an easy, mostly flat walk from a nearby parking lot.

Even though the two beaches are right next to each other, you can’t walk north to Marshall’s from Baker because of rock outcroppings. Many or most of the visitors to Baker Beach don’t even know Marshall’s exists. There is no sign for Marshall’s Beach, and the parking lot is unmarked.

Those who do discover Marshall’s will often mistakenly call it “Marshall Beach,” or “Baker Beach.”

Around Marshall’s are many large military historical artifacts. Some date back before the Civil War.



Surprising History

The Building Under the Bridge


Wrong Beach

Sexually Explicit Memoir

Mark Twain

Some Thoughts on the Science of Onanism

A speech presented to a society of American writers and artists in 1879

My gifted predecessor has warned you against the “social evil — adultery.” In his able paper he exhausted that subject; he left absolutely nothing more to be said on it. But I will continue his good work in the cause of morality by cautioning you against that species of recreation called self-abuse to which I perceive you are much addicted. All great writers on health and morals, both ancient and modern, have struggled with this stately subject; this shows its dignity and importance. Some of these writers have taken one side, some the other.

Homer, in the second book of the Iliad says with fine enthusiasm, “Give me masturbation or give me death.” Caesar, in his Commentaries, says, “To the lonely it is company; to the forsaken it is a friend; to the aged and to the impotent it is a benefactor. They that are penniless are yet rich, in that they still have this majestic diversion.” In another place this experienced observer has said, “There are times when I prefer it to sodomy.”

Robinson Crusoe says, “I cannot describe what I owe to this gentle art.” Queen Elizabeth said, “It is the bulwark of virginity.” Cetewayo, the Zulu hero, remarked, “A jerk in the hand is worth two in the bush.” The immortal Franklin has said, “Masturbation is the best policy.”

Michelangelo and all of the other old masters–“old masters,” I will remark, is an abbreviation, a contraction — have used similar language. Michelangelo said to Pope Julius II, “Self-negation is noble, self-culture beneficent, self-possession is manly, but to the truly great and inspiring soul they are poor and tame compared with self-abuse.” Mr. Brown, here, in one of his latest and most graceful poems, refers to it in an eloquent line which is destined to live to the end of time–“None knows it but to love it; none name it but to praise.”

Such are the utterances of the most illustrious of the masters of this renowned science, and apologists for it. The name of those who decry it and oppose it is legion; they have made strong arguments and uttered bitter speeches against it — but there is not room to repeat them here in much detail. Brigham Young, an expert of incontestable authority, said, “As compared with the other thing, it is the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.” Solomon said, “There is nothing to recommend it but its cheapness.” Galen said, “It is shameful to degrade to such bestial uses that grand limb, that formidable member, which we votaries of Science dub the Major Maxillary — when they dub it at all — which is seldom, It would be better to amputate the os frontis than to put it to such use.”

The great statistician Smith, in his report to Parliament, says, “In my opinion, more children have been wasted in this way than any other.” It cannot be denied that the high antiquity of this art entitles it to our respect; but at the same time, I think its harmfulness demands our condemnation. Mr. Darwin was grieved to feel obliged to give up his theory that the monkey was the connecting link between man and the lower animals. I think he was too hasty. The monkey is the only animal, except man, that practices this science; hence, he is our brother; there is a bond of sympathy and relationship between us. Give this ingenuous animal an audience of the proper kind and he will straightway put aside his other affairs and take a whet; and you will see by his contortions and his ecstatic expression that he takes an intelligent and human interest in his performance.

The signs of excessive indulgence in this destructive pastime are easily detectable. They are these: a disposition to eat, to drink, to smoke, to meet together convivially, to laugh, to joke and tell indelicate stories–and mainly, a yearning to paint pictures. The results of the habit are: loss of memory, loss of virility, loss of cheerfulness and loss of progeny.

Of all the various kinds of sexual intercourse, this has the least to recommend it. As an amusement, it is too fleeting; as an occupation, it is too wearing; as a public exhibition, there is no money in it. It is unsuited to the drawing room, and in the most cultured society it has long been banished from the social board. It has at last, in our day of progress and improvement, been degraded to brotherhood with flatulence. Among the best bred, these two arts are now indulged only in private — though by consent of the whole company, when only males are present, it is still permissible, in good society, to remove the embargo on the fundamental sigh.

My illustrious predecessor has taught you that all forms of the “social evil” are bad. I would teach you that some of these forms are more to be avoided than others. So, in concluding, I say, “If you must gamble your lives sexually, don’t play a lone hand too much.” When you feel a revolutionary uprising in your system, get your Vendome Column down some other way — don’t jerk it down.

Silly Laws

In Switzerland, it is illegal for men to urinate in a standing position after 10pm.

In Florida, you can legally fart until 6pm.

Vibrators cannot legally be sold in the American states of Mississippi and Alabama.

If you should choose to have sex with a porcupine in Florida, you should be aware that you’re breaking the law.

It Swaziland, Women should be very careful about wearing pants in public. Members of the military are allowed to tear the woman’s pants off.

If you happen to own a bar in Oklahoma, watch out for people pretending to have sexual intercourse with a buffalo. If you allow that, you are breaking the law.

In Utah, you may not legally have sexual intercourse in an ambulance while it is on it’s way to an emergency.

In Ohio, no more than five women can live in one house. (Because it would then be assumed to be a house of prostitution.)

According to the law in Indonesia, the punishment for masturbating is decapitation. This law is seldom enforced.

King of Tonga

There is a legend that a certain King Fatafehi Paulah of Tonga felt it was his royal duty to have intercourse with every virgin in his kingdom. He slept with 37,000 women. If he ‘did’ one woman a day, it would have taken him 101 years, so he must have had intercourse several times a day. According to one report, he slept with ten women a day. The problem with this story, is that it doesn’t appear to be true. According to Wikipedia there was never a king of Tonga named Fatafehi Paulah.

It does seem physically possible. Assuming he had a 40-year career, and had sex five days a week, he’d have to have fucked 3.42 women per day.


Might this be one of the women he fucked?


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