Under a poncho

As a youth my penis was something I used to pee out of. Yes, there were times, especially when taking a bath, when I would look at and play with it. While taking the bath I found that I could make it move by using what I now believe was my PC muscle. No big deal.

That all changed when I was 11 years old. I had two friends, Dick and Earl, who were a year or so older than myself. Earl had a sister, Betty, who was my age. We would all get together and get undressed. Betty was fascinated that we could get erections. I was curious about her vagina. We would touch, rub, and stroke each other — things like that. Once I suggested putting my penis in Betty's vagina, but I didn't, because her mother had told her that's how babies are made. We got together like this many times that summer. The following year, Dick said he wanted to show me something, and he proceeded to show me his pubic hair and how his penis had grown, and then he went on to masturbate. We found a secluded spot in the woods and would go there several times a week, and I would masturbate him. He had a large pee hole, and when he ejaculated, while lying on his back, it would erupt like a volcano, going only an inch or two high. I tried to masturbate myself, and he attempted to help me, but I could not obtain an orgasm.

The following year I was at another friend's house and the subject of masturbation came up. He said that he did it but did not ejaculate. By this time I had started to grow pubic hair and my erection was larger. I made up my mind then and there that I would keep stroking until something happened. Well, I did. The first time when my penis began to tingle I stopped, and out came a few drops of yellowish, stringy liquid. (This was no doubt "pre-cum.") This felt good, but remembering the white stuff that came out of Dick, I did it some more. This time I did not stop, and a stream of semen shot out and landed on my chest. There were 6 contractions. The feeling from the tip of my toes to the head of my penis, and the spent feeling of my entire body, was the most incredible experience I had ever had.

Masturbation became a part of my life, but not without feelings of fear and guilt. I'm Catholic, and back in the '40s we were led to believe that we would certainly go to hell if we masturbated. Anything that gave a person so much pleasure had to be a sin, and eternal damnation would be the punishment. Not only that, we were led to believe that in the meantime we would grow hair on our hands, go blind, get pimples on our face, and many other horrible things. For these reasons I tried to limit my masturbation to once or twice a week. After I got out of grade school, I began to relax my inhibitions and do it more often, figuring that I was going to hell anyway. It wasn't until I was in my early 20s that this guilt and fear began to go away completely. I knew then (and I know now) that the Catholic church does not approve; however, it is not considered as grievous an offense as it once was. I also know that priests masturbate.

Thinking back, I cannot remember anyone telling me not to masturbate. Maybe my mother, in a roundabout way, telling me to keep my hands out of my pocket or don't rub myself there, and a nun in school telling the girls not to touch themselves there and the boys not to play with themselves. As for my dad, when he was telling me about the facts of life he asked if I knew what masturbation was, I said no. Then he proceeded to explain, and I said, "Oh, is that what they call it?" Nothing else was said, probably because he was doing it himself. Almost all of the feelings of fear and guilt came as a result of what my peers told me.

When I was 15 we moved to a new neighborhood, and the first guy I met asked me if I masturbated. I said yes. We became masturbation buddies, and two other guys joined in from time to time. There was never anal or oral sex; every once in a while we would get each other off, but for the most part we would please ourselves. This lasted until I was drafted into the army.

The army presented a new problem of where and how I would be able to masturbate. At home I would do it in my bed or bathroom with little or no problems. I came up with a solution: When I was under the covers in the sack (bed) I would lie on my side, slip a sock that I had worn that day over my penis, and stroke very slowly, making sure not to make any noise. After ejaculating I would put the sock in the laundry bag. This was the only way I did it for two years, with a few exceptions. One of the most memorable occurred when I was on guard duty one night. It was raining, so I had to wear my poncho to protect myself. I masturbated 3 times under that poncho while walking my post, each time with all the moans of pleasure that I had bottled up in me. This was quite a feat, because I could not stop walking.

After I got married I did not masturbate much for the first few years, because of the frequency of intercourse. As the intercourse frequency decreased, the number of masturbation sessions increased to several times a week. Since I've been married I have had a couple of mutual masturbation sessions, etc., with a friend and his wife. The first time I asked her if she would get herself off for me. She did, getting to the brink and keeping herself there for a good 5 minutes. When she orgasmed she arched her back and let out a scream of ecstasy, and her entire body shook and vibrated. At the same time her husband reached over and gave my penis a few strokes and I exploded with one of the best orgasms that I've ever had. She later explained that it was a great turn-on for her to have me watch. (My wife has never had an orgasm so intense.)

When I was 62 I developed Peyronie's disease, which is a curvature of the penis, causing it to bend up like a banana. I am now 70 years old, and even though my erections are not as firm, which in part has resulted in a decreased length (from 6 1/4" when I was a teenager to 5" now), I still get off once or twice a week. I have always considered masturbation as stroking with the intent to ejaculate; I've never had an orgasm without ejaculating. It takes longer now and there are times when I don't orgasm at all, but I still enjoy playing with myself. Over the years I have collected several porn films and use them as a mental stimulant. I have done it in so many places and ways that it would take several more pages of this biography to describe them all. I always go back to stroking myself with my right hand while playing with my balls and anus with my left. I'm "cut," but not using lubricant has never been a problem. I do, however, like the feeling of Vaseline Intensive Care hand cream while masturbating — I do this quite often.

I just wish that JackinWorld had been available to me when I was growing up. In our day we were led to believe that anything that feels so good must be bad. It would have been great not to have had the feelings of guilt and fear that I had for so many years. When you stop and think about it, if you don't masturbate, nature will take care of it for you with a "wet dream" anyway, so you are not wasting your seed. Also, my doctor told me ejaculation is good for the prostate, and now that intercourse with my wife is almost nil, I take care of it myself — "for medical reasons."

This is a true biography from an old masturbator. I hope you found it interesting.