Tickle

Masturbation has been an important part of my life since I was a small child. Now I am a happily married husband and father of 3 great kids. I have a normal sex life with my wife, but I still cherish my love life with myself through masturbation — usually once a day, but sometimes twice. I also cherish the memories of my masturbation experiences through the years.

Though many of my memories involve male friends or cousins, I am not gay, and have never had a desire for a gay relationship. But 2 boys masturbating together is not in my mind a gay act, but pure fun and exploration. I always enjoyed it greatly, and I knew my partners did, too, so I never felt bad or guilty about it.

When I was about 5, I loved to climb. I'd climb anything — trees, rocks, and the vertical support pole for my swing set. To climb the pole, I'd use my arms to pull myself up and wrap my legs around the pole to keep me from sliding back. I'd tire when going up, so I would rest by holding myself in place with my legs wrapped tightly around the pole. This put my crotch up against the pole. One day when I did this, I noticed a good feeling in my groin. My thing got stiff, and it felt good to rub it against the pole. So I kept doing it. I did that for several minutes, when suddenly I felt a throbbing sensation, which I called a "tickle." I had no idea what it was, but it felt really good for about 30 seconds — and then I felt limp and tired, so I slumped to the ground, just sitting on my butt at the bottom of the pole, with stars in my eyes.

Of course the next day I repeated my performance, and quickly I established a love affair with my swing set that lasted for a long time. I can still remember hugging that pole and humping it until I got this wonderful, warm, tingling feeling in my penis and groin, and hanging there until it went away and my penis, and whole body, went limp.

The swing set was in the backyard, in full view of the house. Of course I didn't go do my "tickle" when anyone was around, or when I knew my mother was in the kitchen, but I wasn't very careful about her seeing me. She could look out of any number of windows and see me clearly, but I didn't pay much attention to that because it felt too good. So she must have seen me doing it on more than one occasion, but she never said anything.

I did that for at least 2 years, nearly every day — even in the winter, when I'd pull my coat up just enough to get my thing against the pole.

But I remember one day when I was probably 7 when it was raining and I couldn't go out. I was playing in our unfinished basement, where I had a lot of my bigger toys, and felt the urge to get my "tickle." Suddenly I noticed, for the first time, the support poles in the basement — steel pipes that held up the house. I'd never paid attention to them before, but I realized they were about the same size as my favorite pole. So up I went, and I had a great session halfway to the ceiling.

I didn't take long for me to realize the benefit of the basement poles, as they were out of sight of prying eyes, and I was beginning to feel funny about people being able to see me do it in my backyard. I could do it down there anytime I wanted without worrying about anyone seeing me, since I could hear my mother if she came downstairs. All I had to do was drop down off the pole. So began my love affair with the poles in the basement.

One day I thought I'd try something new. Like all boys I loved to run around naked, and I did so in the basement sometimes. So I tried the pole with no clothes on. Actually, I left my shirt on since I knew the pole would be cold against my tummy, a decision I would be thankful for shortly.

I mounted my pole and started into it. I had just realized it actually didn't feel very good to have my thing rubbing directly on the pole, since it stuck and chafed, when I heard my mother coming. In a panic I dropped down and had just enough time to pull up my pants before she came down. She didn't see anything out of the ordinary and went about her business doing laundry and went back upstairs.

In my haste, of course, I hadn't had time to put my underwear back on, and I discovered it felt a lot like being naked with just my pants on, with my thing hanging free and rubbing against the front of my pants. I got an erection and went back to my pole. It felt even better than before, with just my pants between me and the pole.

It was about this time that I shared my secret with one of my friends, Robin. He was staying with me for the day, and I wanted to use the pole, but couldn't unless I got Robin out of the way. So I asked him to go up to my room to get something, and he left, leaving me enough time to go get my "tickle," or so I thought. So as I was going to it, suddenly Robin was there. How he got down the stairs without me hearing him coming was a mystery, but in any case he was watching me with obvious curiosity. So I asked if he knew how good it felt to rub against a pole, and he gave me a funny look and said no. So I proceeded to tell him, and I convinced him to climb the pole and try it. He did, and he rubbed around for a while but said he didn't feel anything. Well, I was stiff and ready to go, so told him his thing had to be stiff for it to work, and to watch me.

So I climbed up and went to it. From the intensity of my face and the way I stiffened when the tickle came, Robin knew something was up, so he was ready to try it again when I was done. He climbed up, and in a few minutes I could see him getting intense, and suddenly he stopped and just moved his hips back and forth slowly a couple of times, then collapsed onto the floor. He gave me a big smile, and said that felt great.

We of course incorporated my pole into our daily play, and pretty soon Robin was stopping at my house on the way home from the school bus every day for a quick visit to my pole before going home. Sometimes we'd take turns going first, but other times we'd both do it at the same time, on different poles. We'd watch each other, which seemed to make it more fun.

Several months later I spent the weekend at Robin's house, since my parents and sister were away. I mentioned I wished he had a pole like I did, and he smiled and said he had something just as good. He said he had tried several things, like the edge of his door and his bedpost, and nothing worked the same. But then one night he was restless, and put a pillow in his lap, and it felt good. So he rolled over and rubbed into the pillow like we did my pole, and he had the same feeling.

He said he'd show me, and he whipped his pants down and grabbed for his pillow. This was the first time I'd seen him erect (since we always were fully clothed when using my pole), and it was exciting. He climbed onto his bed, on top of the pillow, and went to it. It was neat to watch as his butt cheeks dimpled when he pressed into the pillow, and I could tell he was close to the tickle when he started pressing more quickly, then lay still pushing in hard for a little bit, and rolled off his pillow with a satisfied look on his face.

Once Robin caught his breath, he told me to try it, and I was eager. I was already very stiff from watching him, and I pulled off my pants and climbed onto his pillow, putting my thing into the same groove he had, and went to it. He was right — it felt great, and the newness was exciting. It didn't take long for me to start a love affair with my own pillow, and for both of us, our pillows replaced my poles. Instead of going to my basement after school, we went to my room. And I had 2 pillows on my bed! So we would do it together, side by side. We got pretty good at knowing when each other was about done, and would synchronize so we got the tickle at the same time. I never tired of watching the look on his face when he did it. He almost always had his eyes closed, and I could tell from the look on his face how good he felt, and I could gauge his progress by how his butt moved. When he held it pushed into the pillow, he was orgasming, and I could see the pulsations echoed in his eyelids and small, short thrusts of his butt. When he was done he'd open his eyes and smile at me.

When we were done we would usually both roll off our pillows and lie there holding our penises gently as they deflated, and talk about how good it felt. We had quickly lost all inhibitions about such things after doing it with each other many times. Neither of us would be in a hurry to get our pants back on unless we thought someone might come upstairs. In all the time we masturbated together, which must have been hundreds of times, with my poles and our pillows, we never touched each other. That would change when I experimented with others.

For several years around then I also had innocent sex play with a friend named Craig every time we spent the night together — the kind of things that all boys do. We would tickle each other, eventually removing our underwear so we were naked, and then fondle each other's penises for a while. Unlike me, who got a boner instantly, Craig's penis would be soft when I started, then would slowly get erect as I played with it. As it grew longer, I would rub my finger up and down the shaft, and sometimes tickle his scrotum lightly. I liked the soft, warm, smooth feel of his skin. I had an orgasm once or twice while he did it to me, but I don't know if he ever had one. However, there were a couple of times when Craig suddenly reached up and pulled my hand away after an extended fondling, which might have been from his penis being sensitive from just having had an orgasm. I never showed him what I did with my pole or pillow.

About when I was 9, the majority of this activity stopped until my cousin started it when I was 11. I don't know why it stopped. It was almost as though we didn't get the opportunity, but of course we did. So I guess we just lost interest. I used my pillow occasionally, but that was all. The summer I was 11 going on 12, however, my cousin Steve came to stay for the whole summer. Steve was almost exactly a year older than me. I had a big double bed, so Steve slept with me.

The first week was uneventful, but I noticed Steve kept a box of tissues on the table on his side of the bed. I didn't think about it until later, but I did notice.

My routine was that I got up early every day to go to swimming practice and returned about noon. But on Friday I didn't bother to tell Steve I'd be home early. Every Friday we had a short practice so we could rest up for the meet on Saturday. So I came home about 10, still in my racing suit, and I went to my room to change. When I opened the door and walked in, I was very surprised to see Steve lying on the bed, stark naked, holding his thing and rubbing it up and down. His eyes were closed, as though he was concentrating. I wasn't sure what he was doing, but it wasn't hard to connect it with what I did on my pole and my pillow. Suddenly he started speeding up, then stopped, lying stiff, and held his thing as a couple of spurts of white stuff came out, all over his stomach. I figured this must be the stuff they told us about in sex education class. He lay there quietly for a minute, then opened his eyes. When he did, he saw me and went into a fit. He tried to cover himself with a sheet, but all that did was mess up the sheet. He looked really embarrassed.

Trying to act totally innocent, I asked him what he was doing. He said he was "jacking off." I asked if it felt good, and he said it did, and would I like to see how it felt. He told me to lie down on the bed. I did, while he used several tissues to clean himself up. And I suddenly realized why he kept the box of tissues by the bed! When that was done, he sat up beside me and pulled my suit off, leaving me naked. Steve put his hand on my thing like he had done to himself and rubbed it up and down. It took a couple of minutes, but then I felt the familiar feeling of the "tickle" coming, and it hit me hard. It felt great — even better than my pillow. Steve just held on for a minute, then let go. He asked how I liked that, and I told him I loved it.

That night when we went to bed, Steve asked if I'd like to do it again, and of course I said yes, so he did it to me again. This time he sat between my legs for easier access. He tickled my balls with his other hand while he stroked my thing, and felt all around my crotch and down to my butt crack. It felt wonderful. After I had my orgasm (dry, of course) he rolled back and did it to himself, but he had to clean up with his tissues.

The next morning I woke up much earlier than usual. Steve was lying on his back and looked like he was waking up, too, but I could see the tent in the sheet above his crotch. Of course we did like the night before, but this time I masturbated Steve, which was fun to do. It was the first time I'd ever done it to anyone else, other than the playful tickling with Craig a few years earlier.

That was the start of a summer of mutual masturbation which we both enjoyed, and continued for many years whenever we got together, until we both went off to college and moved away from each other.

For the next several years after my summer with Steve, I masturbated whenever I could — at least once a day, usually 2, sometimes more. The funny thing is I abstained on Sundays, somehow figuring it wasn't right to do it on the day I went to church. Yet I don't remember any reference to masturbation being a sin in our church (Presbyterian), like you hear so much about with the Catholic and other churches. I just had this little self-imposed guilt trip! The one good thing about this abstaining habit was that my next session, on Monday, was noticeably better than normal, from the buildup all day Sunday, when I thought about it frequently, being tempted to give in and masturbate wildly. I stopped this self-imposed abstention probably when I was 15 or so, when I realized that often Sunday provided some of the best opportunities to engage in long, drawn out sessions, since I had more free time than on most other days.

The year after my summer with Steve, another cousin came to stay. He was 11 at the time — I was almost 13. I thought back on how Steve had taught me to masturbate, and thought I might do Jim the same favor, since I had fond memories of all that. I was hesitant, so I decided to wait a day or so to see what worked out. The first night was uneventful. It was warm, so all we both had on were shortie PJs. I could see a faint bulge in Jim's crotch, and I wondered if he knew what to do with it. He fell asleep before I did, and when I was sure he was sound asleep, I masturbated. 

The next night while we were talking, Jim led the way down the path I was considering taking. He asked me if it felt good when I rubbed my thing against the bed. I was really surprised, and of course excited. I said I knew what he was talking about, and I asked if he wanted to do it then. He said yes, so we both looked at each other sheepishly, and pulled off our PJs. We each grabbed our pillow and went to it. I hadn't done it that way for a long time, and it felt really good, especially with Jim doing it next to me. Over the next several nights, we did that a lot, and I even showed him how to masturbate with his hand. We ended up doing it to each other by hand once a day, and using our pillows for another daily exercise.

During this time I had experiences with other friends of the same age. Most were of mutual masturbation, triggered by a crude version of strip poker we made up. The one I remember best was one day when Mike was at my house, and we played poker, with the proviso that the loser (the guy who lost all his clothes first) had to lie still and the winner got to do whatever he could to get him to flinch. That resulted in Mike getting naked first, and me, after tickling him for a while, masturbating him to completion. Then he returned the favor. He didn't "shoot" when he ejaculated; his semen just dribbled out. Mine shot pretty far, particularly when I did it with someone else. We did that on probably a dozen occasions.

Billy was a friend I wanted to have sex play with, but never did. When in 7th grade, Billy was hit by a car and was in a body cast for several months. His cast had a triangle cut out at the crotch so he could go to the bathroom, and it was covered only by a loose piece of gauze. I used to visit every day, hoping the gauze would slip so I could see his penis, but it never did. I also hoped he would ask for the bedpan while I was there so I could see, but he didn't. I had fantasies of him asking me to masturbate him in bed, since he couldn't reach well with the cast on, but of course that never happened, either. I tried to lead the conversation in that direction a few times, but he was very modest, and I never got past a very brief conversation about how it must have been hard to masturbate in his current situation. I made a remark about how good it felt, and he replied that "it doesn't, really." Though I knew he was only covering up, it excited me to know that he acknowledged masturbating.

At Boy Scout camp when I was 13, we swam a lot, and I always sneaked looks as Billy undressed. The looks always were fast, since he was careful not to let himself be seen naked. But one night I really got a big surprise when we were all grab-assing in the tent one night. There were 5 or 6 of us talking about sex, and the conversation drifted to masturbation. Billy jumped up out of his sleeping bag naked, with an erection, and said "give me a cup; I'll fill it up." That was the only direct reference to sex or masturbation I think I ever heard from him, and the only time I ever saw him with an erection. He always slept with pajamas on, so it was obvious he had taken them off to play with himself. I wondered if he did that at other times. I think the result of the incident would have been a circle jerk or something, because all of us were somewhat openly massaging erections, though not exposed, but we were somehow interrupted. I should have followed up on that later, but I never did because I was afraid.

There was, however, a lot of masturbating going on in that tent at night. I could hear faint, rhythmic noises at night after everyone settled down. Sometimes I could tell who it was, sometimes not. And often it was me! I can remember being able to see movements in the sleeping bags of boys near me, and it really turned me on to watch them masturbate, though I could only see slight shadows moving in the darkness. I would be doing it along with them, and I'd ejaculate right after they did.

Another friend during this time (when I was about 13) was Mike (a different Mike), who liked to masturbate with Vaseline, which I had a supply of. For several months he stopped by my house every day on the way home from school. We went up to my room and he masturbated sitting in a chair in front of me in my room. There was never any physical contact between us, but I often masturbated at the same time, while I watched him. I even did it on my pillow a couple of times. I remember being amazed at how big his penis was, and how much semen spurted out when he ejaculated. I liked the feel of Vaseline on my penis, but cleaning up was always a mess.

I used to use Vaseline to grease the bearings on my bicycle wheels, and I can remember a couple of times when I got my fingers all greased up and thought about other uses for Vaseline, and would think about it until I finished with the bike. By that time I would be really turned on, and I'd hide behind something and pull my penis out and masturbate with lots of Vaseline right there in the garage.

I had a pillow in the attic of my garage, and I'd use that when I could — but usually it was either too hot or too cold up there, so I mostly used the one on my bed. The one thing that bothered me about that was the creaking of my bed, so I tried to do it slowly and gently, but mostly when I thought I was alone in the house.

Getting caught. Oh boy. One day I was going at it, thinking I was alone, so I wasn't being careful about the bed making noise. I climaxed, and as I always did, I lay there on my pillow for a minute rubbing slowly back and forth in the semen, enjoying the last bit of feeling. When I rolled off my pillow, I saw her. My sister, who was 3 1/2 years older than me, was standing in my doorway, watching me intently. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and I couldn't do anything to hide myself. That would have been useless by this time, of course, but that's the natural reaction. I looked down to my crotch, and I realized she had a perfect view of my boner from about 8 feet away, dripping with fresh semen as well as the globs on my pillow. I lay there speechless for what seemed to be an eternity, and she just left. I didn't want to face her ever again, but of course life went on as normal. She never mentioned it, though I was afraid she'd kid me about it. I was never afraid of her telling my parents, though. I was never aware of her masturbating, and never caught her in a compromising situation, though now I realize she probably did it, too.

The second time I got caught was when I was maybe 14. We used to vacation at a beach up in Maine. We had a small cabin with little privacy, so when I felt the urge, I'd usually go up the hill behind the cabin. It was a state park with a bunch of old gun emplacements from WWII, and I'd explore them and find a good spot to lie in the sun naked and masturbate. I had never run into anyone up there, so I was pretty uninhibited. This day I was going at it pretty good, and was close to orgasm, when I sensed someone was nearby. I opened my eyes, and to my horror, there was a park ranger standing only about 15 feet away, watching me. Again things went into slow motion, and I couldn't do anything to hide myself. All he did was say, "Hey, sorry to bother you. Go ahead and finish," as he turned and walked away. I lay there in total embarrassment for a while, with my erection gone limp — but after a few minutes I decided "what the heck" and went back to what I had been doing. For some reason getting caught was a turn on, and I had a great orgasm. I ran into that ranger a couple of times after that, and he acted as though nothing had happened. He just smiled and said "hi" in passing. My face got red and hot each time. I wonder if he was enjoying my discomfort.

The last time I was caught was when I was 17. I worked as a ranger (basically a trail guide) at Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico. I was surrounded by people most days, so didn't get a chance to masturbate routinely like I did at home. One aspect I liked about my job was that after I left a group (I was with them for 3-4 days), I had 2 days to get back to the main camp by myself, so I'd take great hikes. One of the best parts was the anticipation of being alone and finding a good, secluded place in the mountains to get naked and masturbate at my leisure.

One day I was way back in the backcountry, and had been thinking about it for a couple of hours. I had even stopped to take off my underwear and hike bare in just my shorts, which heightened the anticipation and stimulation of my penis. When I finally found a place I thought promising, I left the trail and went far enough to be out of sight, and I stripped down, lying naked in the sun on my sleeping bag.

I dragged it out for probably a good hour, bringing myself close to orgasm many times, heightening my pleasure. I had a little tube of Vaseline, which made it feel even better, as the hot sun made it thin and slick. I finally let myself ejaculate and spurt all over myself. It was great — until I noticed 2 boys watching me. They were 13 or 14, and how they got to where they were without me knowing is beyond me, especially since I was at least 100 yards off the trail and there was no camp for a couple of miles. But they were standing not far away, watching me. They were both grinning. One of them had his hand in his pants, and I could tell the other had a boner from the bulge in his shorts. They just turned and left without a word, and I got cleaned up and back on the trail.

Later that day I went through one of the many trail camps, and I saw those 2 boys. When they saw me, they came over and said, with a laugh, "Haven't we seen you before?" I was too embarrassed to answer, but one of them let me off the hook by telling me it was okay, what I had been doing was exactly what they had gone there to do, and they did it as soon as I left.

In college I always had a roommate, and finding privacy was difficult. When he was gone for long periods, I would lock the door, get naked, and spend as much time as I thought I had to make love to myself. I can remember some pretty intense orgasms, what with the danger of my roommate coming back earlier than expected. But most of the time I had to do it when he was in the room, which was dicey. I'd wait until I thought he was asleep; then I'd masturbate slowly and quietly under the covers. Since I had to move my hand very slowly, I taught myself some great stimulation techniques, and I had great sessions with myself under those covers.

I know my roommate did the same thing, as I could hear him doing it (which turned me on so I'd do it myself later), but I never had the courage to broach the subject of doing it openly or together. With what I know now, I realize I probably could have without any problem at all, and we could have had a lot of fun together, and I regret not being braver. 

Ever since, I have masturbated frequently, averaging probably once a day. Sometimes when I get really horny I do it more (the most I've ever done it is 4 times in one day), but other times I can't do it because I don't have the opportunity to be alone. Most of my masturbation fantasies revolve around my early experiences and endless variations upon those themes, but I particularly enjoy reading other people's experiences posted on various Web sites dedicated to the subject — JackinWorld, allaboutsex.org, and proaxis.com/~solo/. I find the ones that are similar to my own experiences to be highly arousing, and I frequently masturbate to them.

Putting this Biography together was a labor of love, and I hope others enjoy it. I have masturbated many times in the process of writing it, as it has made me organize and verbalize experiences that are key aspects of my life.

Enjoy! And keep at it — I have, and I will!