My sexual awakening began at an age that would probably be typical for a young man. My aunt then was a widow with three daughters near to my age. Because there was no man in that household, these females were pretty casual about leaving underthings around. I distinctly recall using their bathroom where panties adorned the towel rods. Since I had not often had such an up close and personal view of such female wear, I took time to examine the clean ones and also was able to find some used items to handle and to sniff. It was during one such visit to this household there was some rough and tumble backyard play that resulted in my body bouncing and rubbing against one of my girl cousin's body. I was aware of my penis becoming erect and how I attempted to sustain the contact with my cousin because of the good feelings that contact brought with it.
I knew little to nothing about masturbation until a friend of my brother brought such a seemingly strange idea to my attention. He told me what my father and mother did in the privacy of their bedroom. When I expressed doubt, he proceeded to show me the evidence. He led me to my parent's bedroom, opened some drawers on the bedside table and pulled out a box of 'rubbers' and explained how and why they were used. In the same drawer was a well-used jar of Vaseline. This was startling news to me and I returned later to reconfirm the findings. Whether my older brother had first shown him these hidden items, I will never know.
At some point he explained masturbation and demonstrated it. He encouraged me to masturbate when I was alone because it would feel really good. I did try doing it numerous times but did not succeed in getting off until after months of trying. I did eventually 'master' the art of masturbation. I practiced a great deal alone in my bed (and vaguely recall some extended bathtub play time). I was delighted to eventually discover the tiniest amount of thin liquid at the end of my penis one night in bed. After that, I kept a cloth tucked away under my mattress to soak up the increasingly greater amounts of ejaculate being generated.
Back in my own neighborhood, I had a long term friendship with a one guy with whom I played. We had a mutual curiosity about sex and about breasts in particular. To satisfy some of our curiosity, we would go to the local drug store where some racy (very modest today but seemingly racy in the mid 1950s) were on display. On more than one occasion, we swiped copies of magazines (but our consciences dictated that we leave behind money to pay for them). We secreted away these treasures in an attic crawl space in my home. Then, when my Mom was out, we would recover our prized magazines. We studied them page by page in minute detail. Over time, these 'porn' peaking sessions resulted in each of us 'dropping trou' and masturbating together in the privacy of my draperied family room. By then I was in my early teens.
A popular novel in those years was Peyton Place. To my great surprise, I found a copy of that book in the general bookshelf in my home. I meticulously scanned it for sex scenes. I dog-eared those pages and especially recall one steamy passage which then became inscribed in my mind of a man who succeeded in reaching into a women's panties to fondle her privates and which resulted in the woman getting really heated up. I used the book religiously to stimulate myself to orgasm until the book disappeared from its place on the bookshelf (or else I forgot to rehide it under my mattress or left it where it was discovered by my mother). Sometime later, I was visiting a summer home of a friend. I found a copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover. Needless to say, I lost no time stealing this book away into a nearby darkened woods where, on a log and in the company of far too many mosquitoes, shot my teenaged load of cum onto the dampened forest floor. I returned to book to its place in hopes of a repeat performance the next day, but the book again was confiscated.
Another flash back I have is of me alone in a garage where a sailboat was being refinished. I had been taking turns using an electric sander on the wood-bottomed boat. Somehow the sander must have come in contact with my groin which stimulated me to erection. Having made that discovery, I returned to the garage alone later and held the vibrating sander on my crotch resulting in my first mechanically-aided climax.
As a middle teen, I had to satisfy myself with a whole lot of solo sex. I recall having not much of a supply of adult type magazines. I did not go to many movies period-much less R or X rated ones. Even without such stimulants, I did soil many a tube sock during solo sex sessions.
By the end of my teens, I had been masturbating with great regularity. I could only imagine that I had masturbated to climax not quite daily for about eight years. I easily could climax 2-3 times in one day-if so motivated. By the numbers, that could be something more than 2000 wankings. Thus, during these years, my right hand had been my best friend.
When I married, I was sexually inexperienced with the opposite sex and so was my wife. Therefore, the sex for most of the next 40 years seldom varied from some warm up kissing, a minimal amount of genital foreplay, followed by missionary style sex.
As should come as no surprise given the type and the frequency marital sex, I have continued to masturbate throughout my married life. Intercourse would be supplemented with 2-3 times per week solo jack-off sessions in private. I can state with some certainty that there were at least 5000 successful self-gratification events over the past four decades.
My wife has never admitted to masturbating herself. From time to time I would place her hand on top of mine while I fingered her pussy and then I would spread my fingers to allow her to make contact with herself but she would always pull her hand away. Her preferred position while being fingered was on her stomach so she could add some downward pressure to my fingers on her groin. If I had to guess, I would imagine that is the position she used to masturbate herself before being married. She may never have masturbated since getting married (sounds impossible but she is very prudish when it comes to anything except 'normal' marital sex).
I, on the other hand, (no pun intended) love to masturbate. My wife had never expressed interest in watching me masturbate so I did so discreetly at home and wherever else I happened to be when the need arose. Thus jacking off mostly was reserved for times my wife (and kids) were away from the house or I was away from the house.
Let me say that my need sometimes trumped the 'only when alone' rule. In fact, I have brought myself to climax while my wife was asleep next to me in bed-more than once. It takes skill to raise the blanket slightly while moving the hand only (no telltale arm or shoulder action allowed) and then cumming into a tissue strategically placed on the stomach. And it can be quite a rush because of the danger of being caught. Slightly less challenging is the closed home office door jerk or the working in the basement jack. I routinely got off while sitting reading at the computer reading an erotic story (often Solo Touch) while my wife is alone, watching TV or with others in another room.
Ninety-nine percent of my masturbation over the years was just me and my right hand. Yet, I had a desire to experience my cock being sucked. Since my wife was unwilling, I spent time when in my 30s getting limber enough to curl my body in order to first touch my tongue to my dick and later to get at least the head past my lips. I do not recall if I ever ejaculated into my own mouth but I certainly would have done so it I could. I modified a vacuum cleaner to simulate a blowjob and I know I blew my load up the suction hose a couple of times. A variation was to attach a rubber glove to the vacuum which gave a nice soft sucking effect.
Does my wife know I jack off? Certainly. In fact, she sat in the waiting room of a commercial sperm storage business while I left several deposits-just before I had a vasectomy in my 30s. Over the years I undoubtedly have left telltale signs for her to find. Nevertheless, I think she would be astounded at the frequency of my solo sex-especially now that I am in my 60s. She has seen me jack off and has (infrequently) jacked me off. This has happened only when my equipment has not been performing as usual during intercourse. Given a choice between ejaculating on her or in her, she will choose to do so in her every time mainly because she sees that as the lesser of two evils.
Over the decades, I have had about six dozen offices each with a door that could be locked. Needless to say, I produced DNA specimens in each of those offices during regular business hours. My work took me on the road weekly during my 30s, 40s, and 50s. An overnight stay in a motel was typical 2-4 nights per month. My constant companion on such nights was a jerk off magazine bought at an out-of-town gas station. Given the privacy of my motel room and the purchased adult material, I often would get off several times before going to sleep. Also, I have jerked off in my car (who hasn't) in broad daylight in a rest stop.
I have never jerked off on an airplane or on a train but I have done so on a bus-twice. One time I was traveling for several weeks with a group of men and women. My last leg of the trip home was on a bus alone from the airport almost three hours in transit. I bought an adult magazine to enjoy on the bus and, of course, nature called me. I jacked while in my seat with other passengers sitting mostly ahead of me.
Another time I was on a group tour of a recycling facility. We were shown around a room where bagged trash was brought in. The bags then are ripped open and the contents pushed around the floor with a front-end loader. The machine operator apparently had developed an eye for porn because I noticed a stack of paperbacks, magazines, and video tapes that had been separated and set aside. I held back as the tour moved on to another part of the operation while I quickly examined the stack. Confirming the x-rated content, I grabbed a few items and tucked them away under my jacket. During the bus ride back to the city of origin, I looked over my rescued treasures-which included examples of some forms of adult materials I had never before seen. Despite the risk (I was on the bus with people I knew), I gratified myself by spattering my semen onto the bus floor.
Solo Touch today is my greatest inspiration for my senior wanks. So thank you to the many story authors for the erotic images you painted in my mind while I got myself off yet one more time.