I first started touching myself when I was five.

It first happened just because I was in the bathtub and I was bored, I couldn't get out until Mom said I was done, she hated it when I jumped in then jumped out, said I couldn't be clean yet, get my butt back in there. So I was sitting in the tub, bored out of my mind, and I looked down and there it was, just hanging there. So I started to flip it back and forth, you know, just goofing around, playing army guy with my little thingie, when all of a sudden it the whole game took a very different perspective. My little soldier stood up at attention.

I was in the tub quite awhile that day. My mom was very pleased.

Me and my army guy ended up goin' to war quite often. By the time I was nine, I was whacking off two, three times a day. I became quite accomplished at it. Every morning and every evening was a call to arms. My baths got longer and longer. By the time I got to high school, I was practically a gold medallist in endurance solo-spurting. It is a talent I carry with me today. I am a Zen-master at masturbation.

Jacking off feels good, I mean, people do it for a reason, they do it because it feels good. That's why I do it. I like it. I'm good at it. We all want to be good at something, and I'm good at whacking off.

The problem is, whenever I hook up with a babe, she don't know my body as well as I do, I mean, I know all my special spots, I know my timing and rhythm and how to get the most bang out of my buck. So when I get it on with a babe, I always get short-changed. She gets the fireworks and I get a couple of teeny-tiny firecrackers. The real show always happens after she goes home.

I've actually faked an orgasm. They say it can't be done by a man, well, I've done it. I did it. I just wanted to be done with it and get my ass home and jack off, but I couldn't pop off no matter how hard she'd grind away at me. So I faked it, I made a lot of noise, and a big ugly face like this . . .

And I went "OH, OH, OOOOHHH. OH BABY" and just sorta collapsed on her. And she bought it. I mean, why not, it's not like she's gonna look in the condom and check, you know? And later that night, after I went home, me and my sergeant-at-arms, we had ourselves one hell of a party.

I used to feel a little bit bad about it, but . . . I got over it. The way I figure it, sex with someone you love is what we all strive for, and I believe me and my soldier deserve the very best.

And that's me.