I'm writing this at the end of a 4-year relationship, one that was quite fulfilling on many levels: emotionally and spiritually as well as physically. It's amazing how sharing physical intimacy can bind people together in ways words won't describe. My partner and I enjoyed each other's bodies quite a bit — whether through full-fledged intercourse or just masturbating face-to-face, watching each other's enjoyment grow, seeing what we do to pleasure ourselves. My definition of sex is pretty wide, so everything counts — including just watching what someone else does with their hands. Being able to share something like this with someone was always one of my big desires. I'm sad it's now over.
As a child, I was always very conscious of strange feelings I could produce around my groin area. My grandparents have a house in the country, and next to their home is a big tree with a truck tire hanging from a thick old rope. I used to climb it and suspend myself there, just hanging by my hands. I've heard that a few other people had tried this, too, but it isn't very common. For me, the suspension tightened the muscles between my legs and could produce something akin to a small "o" orgasm — as opposed to an Orgasm.
I also used to play "doctor" with a neighborhood friend of mine the same age as I, and occasionally with his brother and another boy down the street. My friend and the other boy would get jealous of each other, especially when two of us went off alone to inspect each other. There was a bush across the street from our houses, and when we weren't building forts, we were lounging around naked. It was all "innocent," of course, as we were under 10 years of age; but the sex life of children is often overlooked or neglected. We would give each other erections, compare differences between my circumcised penis and their uncircumcised penises, and sometimes even put them in each other's mouths. Nothing much else happened other than that, though I'm sure if I hadn't have moved away at the age of 11, things would have progressed from there during my teen years.
The only bad thing that came out of it was the fact that someone found out and tattled on us. My friend's mother sat us down at her kitchen table and expressed her disappointment. The family belonged to a small local Christian sect, and she didn't approve of our play, saying, "You're both the same, so there's no reason to be doing this." Well, we weren't quite the same — his foreskin fascinated me, and her admonitions didn't stop us. We just became more discreet!
When my family moved out of town to lake country, my sexual contact with other boys ended. There were a couple boys down the road I became friends with, but they didn't show any interest in doing anything. I was too shy to bring it up, and I certainly wasn't encouraged when my new next-door-neighbor told me that if he "ever found out that [I] was a fag" he'd never talk to me again. I think this was a self-defense mechanism on his part — like all boys that age, gay or straight, I imagine he at least considered fooling around with a member of the same sex. Besides, all of us spent a lot of time in swimming suits and in the water during the summer, so there was a lot of opportunity for that sort of thing.
Around this time I discovered masturbation for real. My first orgasm with ejaculation came through doing chin-ups on a tree branch in the woods surrounding my new home. I often went into the forest to sunbathe in the nude, or to work out my arms (though it was the pleasurable feeling I craved). One time I was doing this and something strange happened. Not only did I get the familiar tickle feeling, but a warm, wet feeling spread through my underwear. When I let go of the branch, I caught my breath and unzipped my pants to see. Though my father had only instructed me about the birds and the bees in very detached biological terms, I immediately knew what it was — and that I wanted more. I tasted it the first time I was able to produce it, and I often do even today.
In books I had seen in the public library, I had read that boys were able to touch themselves somehow and that through rubbing up and down, they were able to make themselves experience the same thing I did while doing chin-ups — except better. Now that I knew I was able to produce the goods, I wanted to give it a try as soon as possible.
The first time I brought myself to orgasm manually, I couldn't believe the intensity of the feeling. To this day I remember how powerful it was. My whole body tightened up, and I was flooded with an incredible feeling that seemed to last forever. I was lying in my bed under my covers, and instead of gripping my penis (I figured that out only later), I just quickly rubbed the palm of my hand along the backside of my penis. When it was over, I was extremely happy. What a wonderful new thing I had discovered.
Throughout my adolescence, I masturbated quite a bit — at least twice a day, and sometimes much more than that. Summers were great where I lived, because of all the privacy the forest allowed. But I took risks sometimes, too — masturbating on the beach in full view of whomever should paddle by (no one ever did), or in the house when someone was in the next room. The only time I was half-caught by my parents was before the house was completed. The ceilings weren't quite closed in, so sound traveled. While I didn't make much notice at the time, my bed squeaked something terrible, and my dad yelled out, "What's going on in there?" I replied with some dumb excuse, but they obviously didn't believe me. I just heard a chuckle.
Sex wasn't something I felt comfortable talking to my dad about, first because I knew pretty early on that I was interested in other boys and not girls, and second, because he often made jokes about the fact that I was going through puberty. It just wasn't something I felt I could confide in him about. But I found many answers in books, and I think I turned out okay.
On the property beside our house, there was a cottage that was used only one weekend a year by a family that lived several hundred kilometers away. I often went over there for privacy. One time when I was tanning nude in the summer sun, I masturbated, thinking I wouldn't be interrupted. Right after I had cleaned up and put my shorts back on, four boys came around the corner of the building where I was sitting. I don't know if they had heard me, or seen me, or anything — but they just said hello and kept walking down to the lake. This was strange, because normally wouldn't they have asked what on earth I was doing there?
Since then, I've had many fantasies about being "caught" — first with them in mind, then other people. I'm not sure why this turns me on so much, but it seems to work. I've been in many situations where I could have been "caught," but nothing happened — at work, in dorms I've lived in, while driving, while waiting alone at bus stops, at school, in washrooms, on the roof of apartment buildings I've lived in.
As a teenager, and as an adult in my 20s, I've had many male friends I've wanted to masturbate with, but it hasn't happened quite like that. I've had one major relationship for a number of years, and living together was great — especially when it came to sex. Prior to that, I was with a man for a month, and we were quite "busy," too. It was extremely liberating for me, because I'm often torn between the "free love" versus the "I only have sex with the one I love" mentalities. Right now, I'm feeling a bit more liberated — though I take things like AIDS and other STDs seriously. But I think I'll be a bit more forward asking people if they just want to masturbate together. Why not? We often talk of it, and we know everyone does it, so....
Before I moved away from home, I spent two winters and summers working closely with the same guy. He had a girlfriend off and on during that time, but he was quite accepting of my sexuality, especially for the small-town hick that he appeared to be. We went on several ski trips together, and he had no problem walking around in his small underwear in front of me, or going skinny-dipping at my cottage. It was difficult hiding my erection and obvious attraction in front of him. I suspect he wanted to fool around, but we never did. Once, we shared a room on a trip, and I woke up in the middle of the night to the sounds of his heavy breathing and movements as he finished himself off. Since then, I've imagined joining him. I'm sure he would have said yes, and I still kick myself for not doing so.
I've never tried to quit masturbating. Why would I quit doing something I love so much? I've never felt guilty about it, either. Once in a while I hold off for a few days, just so the buildup will knock me out when I finally use it. But let's put it this way — I've never had a "wet-dream," so you can assume I've been using the release valves very regularly. I will be 27 next month, and I still masturbate once or twice a day — though not at any time in particular. I go through phases of masturbating first thing in the morning, or as soon as I get home from work. Or I'll be riding the bus and can't STAND IT, so I'll have to relieve myself as soon as I get somewhere semi-private.
Sometimes I use erotic stories to excite me ahead of time. I used to buy those little erotic story collections, but now that millions of stories can be found on the Internet, why pay? Visual images sometimes get me going, but not as much any more. Stuff I find on the Internet doesn't really compare to mental images or the real thing, so the work isn't worth it. I've had small collections of magazines featuring nude men, but most of the time I just use my imagination. Or, I just concentrate on the sensations at hand, or the sight of what I'm doing to myself, either looking down or in a mirror. Occasionally I simulate my anus, or reach in to tickle my prostate, but 90% of the time I stroke with one hand and massage my scrotum with the other. Right or left, it doesn't really matter to me. Sometimes I make it a quickie, but when I have the time, I like to draw things out as long as possible so the end result is really intense.
I've used all sorts of techniques — from the simple fist going up and down to more elaborate ones like those you find on JackinWorld. I occasionally use lube, especially on hot summer days when the skin of my circumcised penis grabs too much. But when it's cold, or early in the morning, I love just stroking bare, with the skin all smooth. I'm quite pleased with my penis just the way it is. I'm of an average size, and I don't see anything wrong with that. It's given me lots of fun, and my partners have been very happy with it, too!
Do you find yourself masturbating more often during some seasons than others? Why?
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Tire swing
Gender:
Male