I grew up in a medium sized New England town. My dad had left us when I was little and mom never had much luck getting money from him, so we never had a lot, but mom, who was a school teacher, and her sister Bev, who owned a hair salon, decided to pool their resources and purchase a condo in a new development being built just outside of town. It turned out to be a wise move. The development consisted chiefly of three unit buildings, each with a three story town house in the middle and two bedroom duplexes on each side surrounded by beautiful lawns and gardens. It was something of a luxury village built upon many hills and partially surrounded by thick green woods. Many of the mammoth boulders natural to the landscape were left in place and the developers laid rock piles and planted trees and bushes around them. The black asphalt road rose and fell and looped around islands of these buildings.
The arrangement allowed us to live much better than we otherwise would have. We lived in one of the two bedroom units, with my mom and aunt each occupying the bedrooms. My room was the loft which was over the kitchen and part of the living room. It was huge, but it was also wide open: there was only a railing and a staircase descending to the living room where the fourth wall and door should have been. This was perfectly cool when I was a little kid, but began to get problematic as I grew older. For one thing, one or the other of them was always in the living room, with the television on, from morning till night. Also, they both took it for granted that it was always perfectly alright to pop up and talk to me unannounced any time they felt like it. I had no privacy. Fortunately, things would change.
Before entering high school, I needed to get a check up to complete my medical records. I guess I had just gotten too old to continue being seen by the pediatrician and my mom booked me an appointment with her HMO. I was assigned to an internist who my mom didn't know. He turned out to be a big burly man with a thick but neat red-brown beard, a dazzling warm smile and wise twinkling eyes. Doc, as I later took to calling him, took me to an examining room and closed the door. He had me take my shirt off and he began taking my vitals, in the usual manner of an examination and making notes on the chart. As he peered into my eyes and ears with the medical instruments, he began to question me in a friendly manner about my life, my interests and activities and my living situation. 'So, your parents are divorced. Do you see your father much?' Typically, this would have been a sore spot and I would have resented any adult asking me this, but I felt an instant rapport with this man and I trusted him. I told him I hardly ever saw him, he was remarried with new kids and barely played any role in my life at all.
'So is there any adult male in your life you can go to if you have any questions about guy stuff?' he asked. I told him no, I didn't have any uncles and I didn't really feel like I knew any of my friends' dads well enough. 'Well, as your physician, I want you to know that I'm here in case you have any questions regards your development. You're at an age where you're probably noticing a lot of changes starting to take place in your body.' At some point in the conversation, I told him about my open bedroom and I blurted out that I lived with my mom and aunt and that they gave me absolutely no privacy. 'Ah' he said, sounding completely understanding. He looked me right in the eye and said ' a young man your age really needs some privacy.'
'Uh, yeah' I said, starting to fear that I had made too obvious the dilemma I was thinking about. I looked down at the floor and said 'The tv is always on in our house and I even have to go into my mom's bedroom just to study.' 'Mm hmm' he said. 'And that's not a place where you want to do other things.' 'No.' I said, glancing away.
'Well, Todd, you don't have to beat around the bush with me,' said Doc without missing a beat. 'What I think you're trying to tell me is that you don't get sufficient opportunities at home to masturbate.' I think I must have looked a little startled at the mention of the word. This was 1980, and unlike now, you virtually never heard people talking openly about it. 'Hey,' he said, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder, 'You don't need to be embarrassed about this. ALL men do it and it's a perfectly natural, healthy, positive thing.' Meekly I looked up at him and said 'Do you do it?' He looked at me like I had just asked the silliest question 'Of course I do' he said. 'Why wouldn't I?' At this instant, I felt like I had just met the smartest person I would ever know and the best friend I would ever have. This was even before what he said next: 'Listen. I see from your registration form that you live over in the meadows. Turns out you and I are almost neighbors. I think I know a way you can help me with a problem I'm having and you can help yourself with this problem at the same time.'
It turned out that Doc had just moved up from Boston into one of the condos only a few blocks from ours. He was eager to get back his dog, that his ex-wife was looking after since his move, but he was working long hours at the clinic and wasn't home enough to be able to look after it. If I was interested, and I showed him that I could be trusted, he would give me a key to his condo and I could come over after school, take his dog for a walk every day and hang out there for a few hours, by myself and study-or whatever, and then take the dog out for another quick walk before heading home to dinner. He would even give me a few bucks every week for my trouble. I instantly knew I wanted to take him up on this offer. It was like a dream come true.
I just had to square it with mom. At first, she didn't like the idea of me staying at Doc's after the first dog walk 'If you break something or something goes wrong over there, I'm the one who's going to have to be responsible for it. Why can't you just come home and go back to take the dog out again later.' Well, I wanted to tell her that this would practically defeat the purpose of the arrangement for me, but instead I said it would be great to finally have a quiet place to do my homework and study and that it would be such a waste of time to be walking back and forth between our places-the development was pretty wide and it was about a ten minute walk each way. Also, if the Doc trusted me with his key, she should be able to trust me as well. I was about to enter High School, wasn't I? After a phone call to the doctor, she agreed I could do it.
Well, that weekend, I went over to Doc's to meet his dog and to learn what was expected of me and to establish all the other terms of our deal. Snowy was the cutest little West Highland Terrier and he and I became friends instantly. Doc's condo was also a two bedroom, though he lived alone. It was laid out just like ours, but where we had the living room, he had placed a long dining room table and a hutch with expensive china. His living room was the upstairs loft. It also served as his 'man cave' though the term was unknown then. He took me up and showed it to me. There was a TV, stereo and some comfortable but not too expensive looking furniture, a couch, loveseat and a big vinyl recliner with a sheet thrown over it. On a table next to the recliner, right in the open, was a big container of hand cream and a couple rolls of paper towels. He showed me a square woven straw basket with a lid on the other side of the recliner and told me to take a look inside. Wow! Inside the basket was something that was for me to become a magical wonderland I could escape to every day for most of my teenage life: a trove of Penthouse mags going back about five years. He said 'You know, you're welcome to check those out, but remember the rules: no friends in here ever and you must never remove any of those, or anything else from this apartment!' I said 'I swear I won't. Ever!' I think I must have looked like a kid who'd been given the deed to Disneyland. 'Yeah, well, just remember, try and keep everything neat and don't make a mess.'
That monday I headed over to Doc's right after school. I went in put my backpack on a chair at the dining room table and put a leash on Snowy and walked him all over the complex. After he'd done his duty and seemed to have had sufficient exercise we went back to Doc's condo and I went up to the loft. I stood at the top of the stairs and looked around. How different it seemed from the one that was my bedroom! The whole house was quiet and there was no one down the stairs except a little white dog chewing a squeaky toy. If you're accustomed to privacy, you don't know what a sweet luxury it is. At home, late at night, after mom and aunt Bev had gone to bed, I would furtively give myself a few strokes, being as quiet as possible, listening intently to hear if either of them were getting up as they often did in the middle of the night to get something from the kitchen. I always came quickly, never being able to really enjoy myself. I had begun to ejaculate about a year earlier and this was problematic. I would have earlier discreetly taken a paper towel from the kitchen and hidden it under my pillow. Then after carefully squirting my load into the paper towel I'd have to worry about disposing of it. Now, I had this place to myself for a couple of hours and a stack of magazines the likes of which I'd only previously seen at a distance behind the counter at the convenience store.
After looking through a few of the magazines, reading some of the hot letters in the Forum, I took off every stitch of my clothing and plopped onto Doc's sheet covered recliner. His words echoed in my head and I for the first time ever felt that what I was getting ready to do was a healthy, positive, totally normal thing. I was also intensely turned on to know that I was doing it in the exact spot where he did it and using the same stimulation material he used. I helped myself to some of his hand cream and spread it over my stiff throbbing dick. This was new to me and wonderful. An indescribably sensuous smooth feeling of my hand gliding up and down my penis without friction but still sending intoxicating bursts of pleasure to my brain. I had a couple of the magazines laid open on the table and down in the corners of the pages I could see little hand cream fingerprints that Doc had left.
I stroked gently, I stroked frenziedly, I went fast I went slow. I tried to hold off as long as I could, wanting this to last, but soon I felt that tight squeeze deep within my abdomen and the sensation of something shooting with the pressure of a fire house through the tube of my dick and then lots of warm sticky white syrup audibly splashing onto my chest and stomach. I then felt the shudders, deeper and more profound than I'd ever felt them before. And this cycle repeated, three, four probably five times as spurt after spurt of pent up semen gushed out of my throbbing fourteen year old dick and for the first time ever I was feeling the wonderful sensation of it warmly anointing my skin, all over. For the first time ever I felt the deep satisfaction, the delirious exhaustion of a good strong fearless, shameless, guiltless orgasm.
After recovering, I looked down at my torso and it resembled a sheet cake with white icing dripped all over it. I've never seen that much semen before or since. I probably laid motionless for a half hour enjoying this new sensation of post orgasmic glow. After cleaning off a bit with paper towels, another first: I took my limp penis in hand and massaged out the lingering soreness, got it to start plumping and gave myself a second helping.
Eventually, between the hours of 3 and 6 every day, I would usually manage to give myself three orgasms, do most of my homework and take the dog for two walks-one long and one short. Today I can't imagine where I got the energy but then I was a teenager. After a while, I noticed that almost as soon as I had my first ejaculation in the recliner, Snowy would come bounding up the stairs and over to me looking to get petted. I realized that he had detected the aroma and had come to associate it with 'now it's safe to go looking for affection' from both Doc and me. I started staying at Doc's until about 7 when he got home. When we finally got a microwave, I would call home and tell mom to put my dinner in the fridge and I'd heat it up when I got home. She never really complained-most teenagers don't make it home for dinner every night.
Doc and I did become closer friends over the years. To my delight, fresh magazines would appear in the basket every month and often they were Erotic X Film Guide and Swank, both of which generously featured explicit pictorials of men and women engaged in intercourse, and unlike other men's magazines, featured plenty of pics of erect dick. Eventually, I realized that like me, Doc was stimulated by male nudity as well as female nudity.
Then, when I was sixteen, Doc did something that brought a whole new dimension to pleasure sessions at his house, and gave us lots to talk about too: he bought a VCR.
More on that later.