Here’s What Went Down During My First Visit to a Jerk-Off Club

Here’s What Went Down During My First Visit to a Jerk-Off Club

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Editor’s Note: Some links in this story about my visit to a jerk-off club are NSFW.

In my early 20s, after a lifetime jerking off to pro-wrestling, stolen porno mags and internet smut, I learned of an Amsterdam jerk-off club at a bar called Stablemaster. The idea made me instantly hard. As a recent college grad, I’d never participated in a daisy chain or game of “soggy biscuit” before, and I’d certainly never been to a jerk-off club — Dallas, Texas, didn’t have them, and back when it did, they’d occasionally get raided by the cops.

So when I visited Amsterdam a few months later, my friend and I literally poked our heads into Stablemaster. Two frumpy, grey-haired men — the only ones in the entire bar — beckoned us to enter, but we left without so much as a hello or a drink. We had yet to learn of the delights of older, more experienced men.

Stablemaster has since closed, and while Amsterdam has other jerk-off club parties, the idea itself of a jerk-off club has turned me on ever since.

Well, I finally got the chance to visit one in Philadelphia.

I arrived as soon as the doors opened and followed a thick-set guy walking up the stairs — eyeing his ass every step of the way — to the second-floor loft space where the Philly Jacks hold their Sunday afternoon jerk-off club. A tattooed man at the landing had me sign a sheet agreeing to this statement printed on a nearby sign: “Jacks events involve nudity and solo, mutual and group exploration of safer sexuality. Oral-genital contact and anal contact of any kind are not allowed.”

Nearby, another sign at the jerk-off club party read:

A gentle reminder: “Yes!” means “Yes” & “No Thank You” really does mean “No Thank You.” It doesn’t mean “Try me again in 10 minutes.” If someone makes it clear that they’re not interested in playing with you, please be considerate and wait for them to approach you in the future.”

Atop the second flight of stairs, I met Philly Jax, the pseudonymous Philly Jacks coordinator. He’s a slender, adorkable 57-year-old man with a bushy, blond-grey beard and an easygoing demeanor. For the last 24 years, Jax has held Philly Jacks’ weekly jerk-off club events in this space, which doubles as the city’s Radical Faerie sanctuary and also his home. Jax hit me up for the $12 event fee and then handed me a numbered knapsack for my clothes.

Have you ever visited a jerk-off club before?

Arranged behind Jax are a couch, several chairs, a table with stacks of ’90s-era porno mags and a kitchen bar with filtered water and hand sanitizer. Wearing only sneakers, my necklace and a quizzical expression, I emerged into the large backroom area where several white men (somewhere between their 30s and early 50s) stood around a large-screen TV half-watching a washed-out blowjob video.

I had a flight to catch in half an hour, so I immediately made eyes with a young, big-dicked 20-something standing near a pedestal with lube on it. After showing each other our hard cocks, raising an eyebrow and nodding in agreement, I walked over, said a quick “Hey,” and proceeded to jerk his beautiful, hanging piece while we occasionally kissed. I licked his armpits and ran my fingers through his soft, medium-length hair, pulling him closer so I could tongue him more deeply. He manhandled my furry ass and utterly destroyed my nipples. I came within a matter of minutes, holding him close to me as I shuddered, my cum squirting into my cupped hand.

After sighing a breathless “Thank you,” I unceremoniously slapped my wad into a nearby paper towel, threw it away while washing my hands and returned to Albo to get my clothes. While getting dressed, I noticed something exceptional — men of every age, race and body type began emerging from the stairwell and disrobing: a short, Asian 40-something with a trimmed bush and tattoos; a tall Latino in his 20s with a Prince Albert and a mustache; a muscular, Middle Eastern 30-something with bulging pecs and an ass made of dreams.

It was the most diverse sexual gathering I’d ever seen, more colorful and age-inclusive than any bathhouse or hook-up app I’d ever witnessed.

The 70-year-old standing to the side of the backroom struck me most of all. Nobody had engaged him yet, but I wondered, Where does a 70-year-old gay guy go to get off otherwise? The gay bar? A hookup app? I’ve since been informed that certain websites and apps cater to his age, but what a hassle, especially when there’s a jerk-off club filled with hot guys right in his own city.

Ever since then, I’ve become obsessed with setting up a jerk-off club in Dallas, which is what led me to interview three men who each founded a jerk-off club in their own towns of Philadelphia, NYC and Orlando. I wanted to learn more about how their respective jerk-off club came to be, how they’re operated and how they continue to thrive in this age of mobile apps and online hookups.

You can find that story (Part 2, if you will) with those jerk-off club interviews, here.

Have you ever visited a jerk-off club?

This story was originally published on Feb. 27, 2017

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