I read a lot about guys' experiences in trying to stop masturbating, and their almost universal failure to succeed. In retrospect, they almost all realize it isn't worth the frustration not to masturbate, and that their reasons for trying to stop don't hold water.
When I was a kid I masturbated a lot, starting at age 5. I didn't know what it was, and didn't think of it as wrong, only that I knew it was something to be done in private, or with a good friend who felt the same way I did.
When I got to puberty, I got this silly idea that it was wrong to masturbate, but not too wrong. My church, to my recollection, never preached against it, but I got this odd idea that it would be sacrilegious to masturbate on Sundays, since it was a holy day. So I vowed to skip my usual recreation on Sundays, but other days were OK. I did that for about two years, when I started thinking logically about it one Sunday when I felt the urge. First of all, I didn't really believe most of what they taught us in church (I took the myths and teachings as instructive of lessons to be learned, but not as rock-solid truth of actual happenings). Second, I figured if God had created us they way he did, why did he create something that felt so good and, after many years of experience, I knew did no harm? Third, weekend days were the best to masturbate, because I had time to do it right, take my time, find good private places to do it, and that was when I could spend quality time with my best friends, many of whom liked to do themselves the same way I did, with a good pull. And, better yet, it was more fun to do with my buddies than alone.
So my decision to abandon my abstinence on Sundays was an easy one to make. The very day I made that decision I did it four times, in four different places, including outside in the woods naked in a sunny clearing, and I've never looked back.
Other than that one time, I have never purposely stopped masturbating. I have stopped for short periods for other reasons, like being too ill to feel in the mood, or in circumstances where it was impossible to get enough privacy. The worst was when I went to a service academy. They ran us so ragged that I didn't have the energy to figure out how to get enough privacy. After about a week I had a wet dream, which was the first (and last!) one I'd ever had. It was such a mess, and difficult to clean up in the close quarters with the other cadets, that I realized I had to figure this out. I needed to have my orgasms, but when and where I could control them. So I taught myself to do it very quietly and gently in my bunk. I would fondle myself so slowly and gently that no one could tell what I was doing. It took quite a long time, which had the added benefit of making it more intense when I did come, and I had great orgasms into an old sock. The only time I made any noise at all was the final couple of strokes, when I couldn't help but hit it hard, but I'd be over that quickly and fake rolling around in my bunk to hide the short noise. The other thing is that I'd have to hide my heavy breathing right after comming. To do that I'd hold my mouth wide open and pant as gently as I could until I was back to normal. I became very good at 'stealth jacking.'
By the way, I detected many roommates doing similar things, but they weren't as good at hiding it as I was. I realize now that all that subterfuge was silly. I bet if I had done it openly no one would have minded, and they would have too. We could have saved a lot of trouble if we'd just gone ahead and done it, but in the environment at the time, I didn't realize that.