The first time I ever masturbated was while watching Three’s Company. I suppose I should probably clarify. I was not aroused by the antics of Jack, Janet and Chrissy. I was in the third grade and had just gotten out of the bath tub. I was naked (as is usually the case when taking a bath) and I jumped on my bed. Three’s Company was on and I started to watch. I put a pillow between my knees and rested on my side while watching the television. The pillow rubbed against the end of my penis and…WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!!!!
I didn’t ejaculate; I was still too young at that point. I did feel something though. It was intensely pleasurable and I was determined to repeat it. And I repeat it I would. Many, many, MANY times.
Since that first experience occurred when my penis rubbed against a pillow, my little brain figured that this would be the best way to repeat it. So the very next night I laid in bed, pulled down the bottoms of my Garfield pajamas and rubbed my little guy against my pillow. Sure enough, there was that sensation again. I couldn’t believe it! What was this and why did it feel so good. And why did I feel so bad about it?
I continued to masturbate in this manner for quite some time. I don’t exactly remember when the first time I actually ejaculated was, but I just turned my pillow over afterwards and went to sleep. I don’t know if my mother ever found evidence of my little sessions while cleaning the sheets, but I have to imagine crusty pillow cases left her wondering.
It took a little while until I realized that rubbing my dick against a pillow was an inferior method of self pleasuring oneself. I discovered that you could do it almost anywhere (the shower, the school bathroom, the woods, the shed in the back yard) if you just used your hand. I also learned that using lotion or hair conditioner provided a superior experience.
The guilt continued for a couple of years. I researched the issue in my Boy Scout manual and learned that these guilty feelings were normal and that I should just occupy myself by canoeing, hiking, camping, or knot tying. Being a good Boy Scout, I did all of these things. Of course I would then finish the day by beating off in my sleeping bag. Every time I finished masturbating, I would pledge to never do such a horrible thing ever again. I would promise before God and my Country that I would be a good boy. Like all good Boy Scouts I would be trustworthy, loyal, helpful and self abuse free. I never lasted more than a day. By the next night I was jerking off and feeling guilty again.
Eventually the guilt went away, although I don’t know why. Perhaps I had just masturbated so much that I eventually just got over it. I had reached my guilt threshold. I was now free to jerk off with out feelings of remorse or shame. I could spill my seed freely and willingly! Free at last! Free at last! Free at last!
At this point in my life, masturbation has just become one of those things I do without even thinking. Sort of like brushing my teeth or putting on deodorant. I don’t absolutely have to do it every day, but life is certainly a lot more tolerable when I do. I don’t even really have a routine I follow. Sometimes in the shower. Sometimes in the bed. Sometimes in front of the computer. It just depends on my mood at the moment. One thing I don’t do is use a pillow like I did back in third grade. Although I must admit that every time I hear the theme to Three’s Company, I can’t help but feel a little nostalgic.
1 comment:
OY VEY!
Post a Comment