Cozy Childhood Habits

Pulling myself up to the desk, I settle in to read the latest stories on my favorite personal-pleasures Web site. Having gotten into the habit of being a relatively passive audience member, for once I decide to join in with the chat. Much to my pleasant surprise I find someone whose (childhood) experiences are quite similar to my own and, after reading her story, can't help but share my own. While the two of us may have been separated by thousands of miles and across the ocean from one another, the pleasures of our self-discovery share more than either of us ever could have imagined... Growing up in an old farmhouse in a very rural area, my bedroom was not always the perfect place for me to escape to when needing some "solo" time for discovery or eager exploration. During the winters it was always frigidly cold, in summer it was oppressively hot, and the thin walls were horrific at muting any sounds. Still, I did manage to take care of myself and my needs, often with little regard to the fact that my family could easily have figured out what I was doing. If it weren't for my muffled moaning, or the rhythmic squeaking of my antique wooden bed, then the stains on my sheets must surely have given my activities away. Regardless of the temperature, I would almost always masturbate underneath the covers, varying the direction of my orgasms with the seasons. Due to the fact that my room didn't have any direct heating, an electric blanket was an essential item during the winter. Each night I would go upstairs and start it shortly before I went to bed so that by the time I was ready to crawl between the covers, everything was toasty and warm. Some nights I would fall asleep quickly but, on others, I needed some "play" time beforehand. So, pulling my legs towards me, I would tent up the blankets and start stroking, pinching, pulling, and teasing myself. Depending upon how excited I was, I could either rely on copious amounts of pre-come or had to add a bit of saliva for lubrication. The main problem with using saliva was that it often started making a "smack, smack, smack" sound as I jacked-off, which was only partially muffled by the blankets. Still, at that age, it didn't usually take me long to reach orgasm and, in a matter of a few strokes, my breath would come in short gasps as I felt my come erupt and fly up between my legs. In the summer my technique changed and, instead of tenting the sheets up with my legs, I would lie on my stomach and cup a hand lengthwise around my erection. Then, with gentle thrusts I'd slide my cock along my hand, using my body's weight to press myself downwards. Because I would use my whole body while doing this, the bed tended to creak quite a bit and I often timed my sessions with heightened sounds of activity coming from somewhere else in the house. Still, I'm sure the stains I left upon the sheets couldn't be hidden and must have been noticed by my mother (at least!). To this day, I have always wanted to share these masturbation "secrets" with someone else who also hid their habits underneath the blankets. While there was one ex- who loved to help me out and made sure all my energies were directed towards her, I've never found a partner to share solo techniques and tactics with. Still, when the air is chilly and I put an extra blanket on the bed - or if the Summer air hangs heavy about the room - I'll lie back and stroke myself lazily, enjoying the warm pleasures of self-fulfillment.