Part One of a four-part series.

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.

Go to Part Two.


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