I was 9 or 10 years old when I was first told about masturbation by a friend who was a year older than me. At that stage I did not think there was anything special about it. I shared a room with my younger brother, but fortunately, as I developed and came to enjoy masturbation, I was able to move into a room of my own and enjoy the privilege of masturbating in private without having to wait for my younger brother to get to sleep. I still had lots of "wet-dreams," although my mother did not seem to be fazed by the stains on the sheets. She was upset when I decided I was going to sleep naked, which is something I still do. My father could never quite bring himself to explaining the facts of growing up to us.
I recall as a young teenager being envious and awed by the openness and natural acceptance of masturbation by my farming cousin. He went to a boarding school in the nearest village, and he told me everybody in the in the school dormitory masturbated every night after lights-out. They each used their dirty socks to contain their semen, which kept everything nice and clean, and the socks went straight into the laundry basket with no telltale stains on the sheets. He said almost nobody in the dormitory ever had a "wet-dream." On the farm they grew a type of melon in the maize [corn] fields. He would cut a hole in the melon and use it as an artificial vagina for his masturbation sessions when he was home from school.
I was a town boy, living on the outskirts of the capital city. When I was an adolescent just after World War II it was an almost frontier-like existence, and life was relatively simple. The city is situated between several rows of rolling hilly ridges called "koppies," rather like rocky waves. One of my friends would sometimes visit me while I was trying to complete my schoolwork. He would lean against the wall, open his fly, pull out his penis, and start slowly masturbating as an encouragement for me to join him. Scared that my mother might catch us, I would stop my schoolwork, and we would go for a walk up the uninhabited hill behind my home to masturbate ourselves.
Not far from my home was an old railway bridge over a valley, constructed with arches. On one of my walks through the wooded area, I found a used condom discarded in one of the arches under the bridge. I examined it with great excitement and interest, as I had only heard of condoms, but never seen one. I remember smelling it, feeling the semen, thinking what a lot of semen there was in it, and of trying the semen-filled condom on myself. I was not then aware of the serious dangers of becoming infected by one or more sexually transmitted disease, which I could have picked up from the semen in the condom.
When I was young I was very limber and could fold myself with my knees over my shoulders to reach my stretched foreskin, and sometimes just reach the head of my penis with my tongue. However, I never managed to stretch enough to suck on it.
At one stage when I was about 18, I owned a light motorcycle and was holding the bike by the saddle while chatting to a girl. She suddenly threw her leg over the bike and sat on the saddle, right onto where my hand was placed. I reacted as if it was a scorpion, and whipped my hand out of the way of her genitals. I sometimes regret my excessive modesty and shyness of those days.
When I as at University, before I could afford to buy my own sleeping bag, I needed one to go on a camp. I asked two of the senior guys if I could borrow one from them. They laughed and said they used their sleeping bags in the mountains, where they regularly masturbated. I could borrow one if I did not mind that the insides of the sleeping bags were white and stiff from their dried semen. With a red face I declined the offer and managed to borrow another sleeping bag without a reputation.
It was while living in the University residence that I was able for the first time to try on an illicitly borrowed jockstrap which had been hung up to dry. I later went and bought my own, as the feeling of wearing one seemed to make me incredibly horny. It was also there that I got walked in on while stroking away stark naked on a lazy weekend afternoon. Because the university city was not my hometown and I was unknown, I felt I was able to work through my inhibitions and embarrassment and assert myself. I would sometimes pluck up courage, red-faced and with sweaty palms, to march into a pharmacy and buy a pack of condoms to use in my masturbation sessions.
I could most probably have been described as an "original nerd," urgently wanting to experiment sexually but fearful of the consequences. Although consumed by guilt, I was never able to give up the wonderful sensations achieved through masturbation. I was still a virgin at 27 when I got married, and am still married to the same wonderful woman after 36 years (with 3 children and grandchildren), and still enjoy masturbating. Since discovering JackinWorld (which has opened up a whole new world of understanding and acceptance to me), I am now almost totally relaxed about what was previously my "secret vice." Through all of my wide reading of erotic books and sex manuals, including the Kinsey Report, I was never convinced that what I was doing was perfectly normal.
I have presented and published a number of technical papers and have been honored by several learned societies in being elected as a Fellow. I sometimes wonder, while we are debating, if my colleagues guess what sexy thoughts are going on in my head, or if they also share similar thoughts.
I have always been a strong believer in the freedom of speech. I firmly consider that no other person can assume that they have the right to "protect" me by taking away my right to choose to read or see what I want to, so long as it does not harm anybody else.
Do you find yourself masturbating more often during some seasons than others? Why?
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Melon baller
Gender:
Male