I Masturbated On Playboy Radio

In some ways it was always going to happen. If only, I have asked myself so many times, I could make a career out of having orgasms. Sometimes if you wish hard enough, the Universe provides…

While the Buddhists consider four questions before choosing right speech/action:
1. Is it true/factual?
2. Is it helpful (does it reduce suffering?)?
3. Is it pleasing?
4. Is it timely?

For me 1. is a given, as I am a compulsive truth-teller. Having a live orgasm is definitely 2. Helpful and 3. Pleasing, and my orgasms are nothing if not 4. Timely. I just usually add the most important caveat: 5. Is it entertaining?

When asked if I would come to (and in) the Playboy Radio Studios, I was mostly motivated by 5. I was requested by my new friend Psalm Isadora. She was a guest on our new podcast The MILF Code which usually runs Thursdays at 7 p.m., but as we are on hiatus this week you can watch that episode HERE. Psalm is a modern sex goddess, yogini and tantric sex expert who rivals me in the lack of inhibitions department, and was doing a radio show pilot for Playboy. Her idea was to do a little segment where a man (her regular guy co-host Sal) would be able to spot a real orgasm from a fake one.

I nominated myself for the real orgasm because I am somewhat gifted in this area, but not without some major hard work, ladies. Stop thinking I am just “lucky,” you too can devote thousands of hours to masturbation, because I believe in you. Anthony Robbins, Malcolm Gladwell, and Oprah agree – motivation and repetition are the keys to success in any arena, and I have always had both. So ladies, if you would like the dubious skill of coming when the wind blows, read on…

I abstained from the act 24 hours before go-time and privately wondered whether I would be able to perform on cue. I have never done any type of sex work, or porn, though believe me I have considered it. I even thought about being a Webcam… well, not Girl exactly, but at least someone who knew how to set her computer at a deceptively flattering angle. In my mind I am a tremendous exhibitionist, but in reality I don’t do any illegal acts because I have kids.

“And what about the children?” you ask, ye, who are so concerned with morality. You who think my children should be shielded from sex, but exposed to horrific acts of violence deemed okay for a rating of PG-13. Well I didn’t film it, you filthy animals. I know about screen grabs and such, and there will be no visuals of my antics for future generations to behold. Until I am coming in front of Howard Stern and then, all bets are off.

I had no idea if I could get myself off in a studio with strangers staring at me, with no screen or even screen name to shield me. I arrived at the Burbank studio wondering whether I would have whisky-puss, as I took my usual five minutes to put make up on in my car. Light make up is advised when one is going to masturbate in front of strangers because decorum. Why tip off the main event with dark red lips?

I rode up in the impressive Playboy elevator and was privately grateful that my kids didn’t ask me for details today when I said I had to “work.” As I wrote about recently for sexpert.com, it’s so hard to be a slut and a mom.

I arrived at my destination on the 7th floor, signed in once again with my government name, but there were more releases still to take care of. Apparently even if you’re not naked, Playboy is smart enough to understand the nature of consent. I felt like I was joining a dynasty of women deciding to be empowered by sharing their sexuality with the world (Height:5’11” Weight:118 Hobbies: Nude windsurfing!) Or I could join those who felt they had made bad choices forcing them into this line of work. Same-same.

After signing my life away, Psalm’s gay male assistant presented me with a small Hitachi-looking vibrator with a crystal-encrusted base, which I nabbed for my collection even though I had brought my own. I wasn’t going to put an unsterilized pthalate directly onto the goods, and through the underwear just wasn’t going to cut it. Say what you like about gay male assistants, they understand show business.

The producers were so nice and welcoming, but the studio was cold, y’all. (Guessing it’s a ploy to keep all the nipples hard but I’m not much of a conspiracy theorist.) I was joined on the panel by the other girl masturbator who wished to remain nameless, and a no-nonsense ob-Gyn who was the non-masturbator, because once you have a Doctorate apparently they don’t ask you to. (Although famed artist and ecosexual Annie Sprinkle has a Doctorate and has happily spread her legs many a time for the sake of performance art, pioneering the way for us all. Annie, I salute you.)

After much entertaining and informative banter from Psalm and Sal, and hormone information from the doc (gentlemen get your Testosterone checked—a little late to save my marriage—but still) the time had come. (Get it.) The other girl went first, and it was quite a performance. I felt the exact moment that she stopped herself from coming, as contractually obligated, but spoiler alert: the male co-host did not. Convinced he had just seen a hot young woman orgasm in front of him, he had his legs crossed and his hand over his face. Was I going to be equally embarrassed about letting people see my turn on?

Turns out, nope. Perhaps you have noticed that my answer to the question “Have you no shame?” is a resounding, “Why start now?” I stuck the toy down my pants, fluffed out my dress around me, closed my eyes and thought of… nothing. No visual images, no getting off on people watching me, just having seen the studio clock counting down for Psalm’s show, I didn’t want to let her down… and BINGO. I came so fast and so hard it was almost embarrassing. Almost. I started laughing (because I often do in the heat of passion) taking heed to have the mike further away from my mouth so as not to deafen the listening (masturbating) audience. What. A Pro.

But a Pro-What-Exactly remains to be seen. For now, I am available for media appearances, weddings and Bar Mitzvahs. Also carnival sideshows, as I can also come without touching myself. What a wonderful way to spend one’s afternoon and everyone must have a talent. My first thought after the shaking had subsided and six strangers looked at me with mouths agape, “Aw… just one??”

Reading Playboy for the articles minutes before the event



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