Strolling down memory lane:
Oh this post really turned back time for me and reminded me of MANY years ago. I must have been about 14 when I did a wank session for the first time. Seem to remember hitting 10 times though to be honest the last ones didnt produce much cum - but the feeling was fucking wonderful.
Had to rest for a day afterwords as my cock was sore and red.
Dear EssexGayBoy,
I enjoyed your comments. For me beginning around the 8th or 9th time, my so called cumload was almost a vapor erupting much like the top of a volcano. Now, I was covered in ash and very little molten lava. However, the convulsions were as usual for young boys.
If you were like me in my early teens, any orgasm was totally mind-exploding and my eyes would become dilated and my formerly excellent vision was now with increasing frequency an indication of my failing early-teenager eyesight. My source of j/o inspiration was my mother's human anatomy drawing book which somehow completely overlooked the anatomically correct males jiggly parts. With my failing eyesight these small details seemed to fade in the distance between the book and my eyes. As disappointing and frustrating as this insufficiently detailed image was to me, I persisted in my most private moments visiting this same page time after time.
Being 11 or 12, I thought nothing of the fact that on the facing page was similar sketches of the female form including breast.
Seeing how my mother at the time was a professional dress designer/maker making only custom designed and fitted elegant evening wear in silk (often having extensive individually hand sown sequins and beading), the female form was anything but a mystery to me. Bras, slips, girdles, and female manikins minus the head were all around my daily life (as opposed to actually being on me) without sparking much interest or curiosity on my part.
Because I accidentally made my life changing discovery totally unaware of the path I was going down, I like so many, many boys thought this unknown and nameless experience was some great scientific discovery. Yes. No truer words have ever been written. It was as if I was a reincarnation of Louis Pasteur working tirelessly in his laboratory and up to his elbows in "sweat". In fact besides my thinking this magical milky substance was some form of unprocessed urine, I soon discovered this explosive substance left track marks where ever it landed. Now my underwear (front side only) and bed sheets/pillow cases gradually began showing the signs of my frequent handiwork and DNA deposits.
Being under the age of 13, I hadn't fully accepted the beginnings of hair growth under my formerly perfectly baby-smooth underarms or the dreaded sprouting of pubic hair. I began realizing I was beginning to resemble slightly older boys I had seen naked in the swimming pool dressing room who had really let their bodies go now they were 14. How deplorable I thought and, looking back, I realize now how ahead of the game I really was. These prickly body changes put me in a state of denial -- fortunately without unduly impeding my newly found though still unnamed hobby of masturbation. Being nameless was great to me because being Catholic I didn't have to worry about confessing my hobby, if it were actually some "sin". Part 2 of this emotional roller coaster was the assault of ever so frequent and embarrassing spontaneous unexplainable erections I was bombarded with. I soon found out no typical underwear elastic waistband was up to the job demands of truly hiding back the monster lurking below.
Looking back, I do not know how I made it to age 15. Somewhere between my 13th and 14th birthday, reality set in the must cruel of ways possible. My all-time favorite unnamed hobby was now properly identified and correctly named by a priest leading a religious retreat for pubescent boys.
After he had us strip and begin examining the genitalia of the other boys and adult males around us, I realized the PARTY IS OVER!**(see note below) Now my fun-time had to be confessed as the mortal sin of
masturbation or, should I die, I would take the express route straight to HELL.
Now, I had to devise a bookkeeping system up to IRS standards to carefully include things like touching myself too long while thinking dirty thoughts and where do you draw the line or exactly how many times can you stroke your dick accidentally or otherwise before you have committed this ultimate sin of impurity. My life became a living hell overrun with measuring cups, rulers, slide rulers(before computers etc), and rain indicators. No longer could I even take a simple shower without the ever-present god peeking over my shoulder asking why I spent so much time sudsing up my crotch, where did this erection come from, etc. My confessions now became a weekly necessity with my lengthy shopping list of sins dutifully confessed as the world's greater sinner if I were to plan on taking communion the next day-Sunday. My absolute need of going to confession was now a weekly ritual. It was extremely tough and sometimes I did not make it through the night without condemning my soul to burn in HELL. Now do you see why the term "guilt" is so synonymous with being a Catholic and effects all Catholics universally.
When I was 17 and visiting relatives in France, although not fluent in French, I nonetheless had to go to confession prior to boarding that plane back to the US should my plan perish over the Atlantic. The priest I confessed to in France didn't even speak English. When you are properly messed up with overwhelming guilt, it can totally rule your life much like the addiction to masturbation itself. However, the latter one is much, much, much more fun skin-graphs and all!
** This statement written in bold print is totally fictitious and merely added for dramatic purposes to please my audience.
TO BE CONTINUED
P.S. EssexGayBoy I had a similar post earlier in this thread dealing with my all time record of 12 times in 24 hours. Being a Gay male, I was responding to another claim of 19 orgasms without fully realizing what precisely I was dealing with.
It was out of my control....
Thanks for the heads up...
There are some definite benefits to being a girl... and having an unexpectedly empty house for the afternoon...
