When I was about 10 my brother (a year and a half older) and I went into the woods near home and saw a neighbor kid of 17 or 18 who was sitting under a little tree hut we had built. It was actually on his folks' land but a long way from his house, and I didn't think he even knew it was there. He had his pants down and was stroking what to me looked like a huge joint, compared to my little weenie. I'd never even seen an erection before or pubic hair but was intrigued. A better word today would be turned on, but I didn't know that then. When he ejaculated all over, I was mesmerized. He was moaning and groaning and collapsed back against the ground. Being a real dummy, I asked him if it hurt. I'll never forget his smile — he said it was the best feeling in the world.
After that I was beating mine to death trying to get something out of it. (Yeah, right.) Anyway, a couple of years later, bingo — and I was hooked. From then on I was convinced I was one of the horniest guys on the planet. As I grew along with everything else, masturbation became a constant. I think my father knew but never mentioned it. My parents had split and my older brother was living with my mother, so I didn't get any guidance from him, although he asked me once when I was in high school if my "joint" would fit inside a toilet-paper tube. I already knew it wouldn't, but I told him I'd have to check and get back to him. Oh well, he was always asking questions but never volunteering anything.
I was having some Catholic guilt problems because it's ingrained. It was also the 1950s and a rural small town in Upstate New York — not exactly a bastion of liberalism. I had a steady girlfriend and was masturbating her regularly, but she wouldn't touch me or even allow me to take out my penis. She didn't live far from me, but I would walk home like a bow-legged cowboy who'd been kicked by a horse. The pain was intense. I'd have to work my way upstairs with every step a killer and get into bed, and by then it was too late to get off. I just hoped I'd either go to sleep or die in a hurry. I vowed I'd never get another case of "blue balls," but being moronic thinking that doing the same thing over again would have different results, I'd go right back for more the next week end. Duh! She was still a virgin when we graduated.
There are a lot of young guys on JackinWorld, so this is for them. I call it saving my bacon. When I was 12 I'd sometimes masturbate naked in front of the mirror. It was a pretty sorry sight. I hated my body. I was so skinny my older brother called me "Bird," and since my father was over 6 feet tall I knew I'd be tall and skinny. That was in the days when they ran Charles Atlas ads of a muscle-dude kicking sand in some twerp's face at the beach. That was going to be me, and I vowed to do something about it. I decided to do push-ups and wouldn't masturbate until I did — that was the reward. Ten killed me, and that didn't last long. I decided 3 were easy, so I started with 3 every day and added one more every Saturday with a goal of 50. It didn't take long for the guy in the mirror to start looking pretty good. My father was getting a pretty substantial gut, so I added stomach crunches. I was riding an old no-speeds Schwinn, and my mother and brother were living 3 miles out of town with some good huff-and-puff hills in between. It didn't take long before I was doing them sitting down, and my lower body took on some shape too.
By the time I was in high school, I had a pretty decent bod and no one shoved me around anymore. I could beat almost everybody in arm wrestling, and I noticed I was getting a lot of attention in the shower. masturbating in front of the mirror was a whole lot better and my brother stopped calling me "Bird" because he knew I'd kick ass if he did.
I should tell you about my buddy in high school. Jim was probably the best-looking guy in school — all the girls loved him. Great build, good athlete. He was the middle of eight kids, and his father was a very strict minister, so he use to like to sleep over with me. One night he mentioned he was horny — let's masturbate. Okay. So we did that, mutually masturbated, and did some body rubbing. I wanted to try anal sex but he said it hurt too much. The next time he stayed over and every night after that, he would immediately grab my joint and say, "Man, you've got a nice [penis]." So he'd masturbate me. Then he surprised the hell out of me when he said, "Let's try blowing each other," and he went down on me. I thought that was cool, but now I'm sorry I didn't reciprocate. Too much guilt and getting rid of that was like claiming the sky and flying rather then pecking around with the flock on the ground. That's when I became a human being rather than just a person.
When I was in the army, a buddy and I took a weekend pass to the beach. We hit too many bars, got tanked, and went back to our room, which was miserably hot. A small fan but no AC and the sweat was pouring off us. I said, "I need a shower." He was struggling to get out of his clothes and mumbled, "Me too." Then he added, "Give me a hand." I helped him out of his clothes, and we were both naked and sporting semi's. There are bodies and there are bodies. His was perfection, developed from hard work on the farm, not a gym. Everyone seems to have a breast fixation, even if they're the size of bowling balls; I thought that was ridiculous and was always an ass and legs man. Pubes turned me on, too, but I was never particularly interested in a guy's joint — well, unless it was a boner. I was helping him to the shower, and he said, "Looks like you're horny." I laughed. We got in there and were doing some mutual stroking, and I thought I was going to lose it when he turned around and my boner was riding the crack of his ass. We made it to the bed, grabbed some cocoa butter, and went at it. Me to him, him to me. First time for both of us, but we didn't do anything oral — that would have been queer, right? In the morning we did it again, went to the beach for a couple of hours, and went back to the room. We never got to the beach again; we even got carried away with our passion so much that we were kissing up a storm, and we did it in every position you can imagine. Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it — it was unbelievable. He was due for a discharge and was going home to get married, but he made me promise I'd come and see him and spend some time at his hunting cabin. The guys in our unit wondered why we didn't have more of a tan, so we told them it was cloudy. He went home and was killed by a drunk driver, but if he were here now, I'd jump in the sack with him in a heartbeat and go the whole nine yards.
When I was playing high-school football there was a kid younger than us who liked to give some of the guys on the team head. I loved that and was stupid enough to condemn him for doing it, even though I was there, too.
It took me a while to get by that hypocrisy, but passing or receiving, it's still football. I later lay awake thinking about it and would have to masturbate. I knew I'd *never* do such a thing -- but, what's he get out of it? I knew he wasn't doing it just to make me feel good, so I knew there must be some turn-on I wasn't aware of. It took me about 10 years to get the guts to try it myself, but up until then I wouldn't give myself permission to find out what it was all about. Then I kicked my ass for wasting all that time. I actually barfed the first time I tried giving a guy oral sex, not because of the physical act but because of the snake I had in my head that told me I wasn't allowed to do that. I cleaned up and apologized, and he said "No sweat, I didn't have to do it." I said, "You're wrong." I want to be free to decide for myself what I can or can't enjoy in life. Hell, just thinking I had to live up to someone else's expectations of who or what I was really stuck in my craw. So, I went down on him and was amazed that I got another erection, even though I'd already ejaculated. That led to 69, and I thought that was the very best sex I'd ever had. After that I decided I just loved sex. No hyphen to label yourself hetero, bi, homo, asexual, or mega if you're doing the dog and the houseplants, too. I decided sex isn't who you are, it's something you do — and from then on I was just sexual. If it feels good, do it! Life ain't a rehearsal.
- age 68, California
Do you find yourself masturbating more often during some seasons than others? Why?
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Bird
Gender:
Male