That's what Philadelphia Jacks promises at its thrice-monthly "penis-pulling parties" — further proof that one isn't always the loneliest number.

The masturbatory strokefests, open to men 18 and up, take place in a giant playroom above 13th and Walnut streets. Clothes check, lube and paper towels come gratis at the $10-per-head circle jerks, which, like organized parties hosted by the Melbourne Wankers and Rhode Island Jerk Off Enthusiasts, give guys a way to enjoy group sex without worrying about STDs. (Note: Some attendees self-service; others seek a white-knuckle shuffle from a fellow hand jiver. Butt lovin' and oral-genital play are usually forbidden. Or, as the NY Jacks' Code of Ethics puts it, there'll be "no insertion of anyone's anything into anywhere.")

Why be a card-carrying member of a Rosy Palm club when you can get your thrills for free, alone?

Simple: camaraderie.

When feisty sexagenarian Lynda Gayle co-founded Florida's Club Relate with her husband Tom, she wanted to create a space where both jacks and jills, couples and singles, could enjoy America's favorite pastime — together.

CR's co-ed choke parties cap out around 35 or 40 people, some of whom travel from as far away as Ireland and Pennsylvania to attend. They're prefaced by an orientation where newcomers can share intimate fantasies. This is how Lynda separates the cocks from the chickens. The way she figures it, "If they can't talk about sex, they can't act on sex."

And Lynda knows. She spent the better part of her Catholic teenagehood lying in bed masturbating and praying to God to make it stop feeling so good. "Me and God, we had a real dialogue," she laughs.

Kathy, 60, didn't have her first orgasm until age 45. Stuck in an unfulfilling marriage ("It was always blowjobs and 'What can I do for him?'") and harboring similar diddle-your-Skittle guilt, she was mighty bashful attending her first CR affair. It took six years before she fully warmed to the idea of touching herself in plain view of others. Now Kathy books vacations at nudist resorts and looks forward to CR's "full-body masturbations," where she's at the mercy of a dozen hands kneading her like dough.

"Oh, it's great," she coos breathily over the phone. "All those different strokes from different folks!"

While there's a two-to-one male/female ratio at CR parties, Lynda says some men get overwhelmed and cut out early. "They're exhausted! Men are just fascinated by women masturbating, but if they ask, women are like, 'God, are you kinky?' and try to pigeonhole them."

Save a half-hearted clit rub as an interlude between positions, I've never given a pillow-biting performance in someone else's presence — let alone at a party where people drink punch from plastic cups. I'm too afraid of looking all sweaty, gaspy, twisted-orgasm-face ugly. Which is a shame considering how much I enjoy watching boys masturbate.

What advice does Lynda have for wannabe wankers looking to take matters into their own hands?

"You have to have the right attitude," she insists. "You cannot feel guilty. Sex is primitive — like breathing, moving, eating. Once you figure out what feels good, you've got power."

Questions? Comments? Who's hotter: Blanche, Dorothy, Sophia or Rose? E-mail ashlea.halpern@citypaper.net. No phone calls.