This is a wonderful site! I haven't read all the stories but already I've been given hours of entertainment and education. Thank you.
I've long wanted to talk about masturbating; the problem is that in my society it's regarded as either childish or perverse, (or both!). Only two people who I know have admitted that they enjoy this activity and even they tend to shrug it off as something to do between fucks. Now, we know that masturbation is something quite different to sexual intercourse.
I've been with several woman and having sex with another person, particularly someone you love, is a truly beautiful experience, spiritual at its best. But the positive of intercourse is also its negative: relating, caring for, showing consideration and sensitivity for the needs and feelings of another -- these enhance the intercourse but reduce the concentration of personal pleasure. Playing with yourself, delving deep into your most personal and subtle feelings, excluding the outside world, can bring an ecstasy beyond description. At my most intimate time it's like floating in a warm ocean inside myself, secret and comforting, shot through with intense pleasure.
Perhaps I'd better give some background. Without that information much of what follows may be misunderstood; besides, I'd like to hear from other people in similar circumstances. Please post a story -- I'd really value learning about your challenges and solutions.
I've been physically handicapped from birth with a neuromuscular condition known as 'Spinal Muscular Atrophy', (it's part of the motor neuronexxx group). The expression of this is that I started life extremely weak and have become even weaker since. I didn't sit up or crawl as a baby and never could do more than stand with support, certainly never even took a single step. I'm male, have been in a wheelchair since 15 years old and I'm 58 years young.
I don't remember very much about my sexual nature as a child, which is a major regret. I've even considered trying hypnosis to delve into my subconscious! Considering my intense interest as an adult in sex and masturbation, I must have been pretty active, 'down there' as a youngster.
My lack of mobility would have made it difficult to freely explore and enjoy my body. This is an aspect of disability seldom mentioned but is, I'm very sure, a significant handicap in the development of the disabled child. It resulted, for me, in a much delayed progression through the stages of sexual maturity. I didn't know much about the reality of girl or boy bodies growing up, didn't play-discover the wonder of sex with children my age -- my learning was through sidelong references in books. I learnt much from Arthur Mee's 'Children's Encyclopaedia' by studying the sections on classical sculpture. I wonder how many people will know of it ...? I'm sure, had my parents known, they wouldn't have approved of my purient use of this splendid set of books!
I remember persuading a child friend to take his clothes off for me to see what another boy looked like. But, not being able to do this in a secure place, (going behind the garden shed, for example, isn't easy when one can't walk!), we were discovered, 'red-handed', by my mother. I don't remember her reaction but my parents, although not obsessive strait-laced, were not particularly open or liberal either, so she probably didn't make me feel free to experiment further.
I recall some games with my brother when he was still quite young; perhaps early puberty. I tried to suck his penis but couldn't take it into my mouth, (another consequence of physical weakness is that my jaw won't open very wide). He is nine years younger so in today's world I would be in serious danger of being accused of child-molestation. Then, of course, we were just 'naughty' boys. We weren't discovered but I have only one recollection of further sexual activities with my bro, several years later. I was curious to see him ejaculate so we had a very brief, single episode of mutual masturbation one night when both parents went out socialising. His penis was incredibly hard to the touch, so much so that it is the main impression I retain of that incident. After cumming his penis crumpled up very small and the loose skin puffed up quite alarmingly but no harm seemed to come of it.
As a side issue, isn't it noteworthy that many of the stories on this site have reference to the writer experimenting with oral sex as part of learning when still very young? If many youngsters spontaneously try oral sex, well surely, this is evidence that it is natural behaviour ...? The moralists would have that this is a sinful activity yet if children too young to have learnt it from others instinctively regard it as a normal way to have pleasure, how can it be immoral?
My sexual experimenting with girls as a youngster was very limited. So much so that I can remember only one little girl as a sexual play partner. Her family were neighbours so we saw quite a lot of them. She had a much older brother and a younger sister. She, call her Valerie, was well aware that certain parts of her body were of great interest to me, and, I suppose, to other boys, but unfortunately for me, she was by nature a 'junior cock-teaser'.
She delighted in driving me half crazy with frustration, by acting so charming and affectionate one minute then turning quite indifferent the next. Remember, I was immobile in a chair or on a couch. She would flip up her skirt to show me her thighs or even, on a good day, her panties. She often asked me whether I wanted to see her 'bottom' to which I invariably said yes, whereupon she sometimes, if in an excited mood, would turn her back to me and lift her dress above her waist.
Once, just once, she did something so sweetly erotic that I've never forgotten any of it. I was sitting in her room in an overstuffed armchair. The other children and the adults were busy outside the house. She came to me and sat down on the left arm of the chair and told me to put my head back onto her lap. I was only too willing! As I turned and lay back she lifted her skirt and threw it over my head.
Never, as long as I live, will I lose the memory of this. The smell of her slightly sweat-damp body in the semi-darkness ... the soft cotton of her panties against my cheek ... the sense of intimate enclosure between her thighs. This single event must have shaped my personality profoundly.
And, single it was. No matter how I begged and pleaded, Valerie never again came that close, emotionally or physically, to me. Why, I don't know. It could hardly have been something I did, since I was almost paralysed with surprised joy, so perhaps she had expected more from me ... long ago and far away, so we'll never know. I loved her with great intensity.
Meanwhile, my brother was making hay with Valerie's little sister in some private place and would often tell me about his exploits. This didn't do my mood much good! No wonder I'm shy with woman.
That is all I can remember about sexual contact with other children as I was growing up; as I've said, a real cause for regret.
I lived with my parents until I was 30 years of age, apart from about three years away at boarding school. Because of my disability I was unable to 'mix it' with the other children and was regarded as rather 'frail and delicate'. Thus, a 'Mama's boy', so I was pretty unhappy at being away from home and was bullied mercilessly until I learnt to oppose the tormentors. On the other hand, I enjoyed the sexual freedom that a unremarkable boy amongst many others can enjoy.
I wanked in the bath, in bed, and remember masturbating during an outdoor excursion, while left alone by my wheelchair 'pusher' for what couldn't have been over five minutes. I climaxed just as my fellow 'walkers' were returning and had to hastily wipe my cum-spattered hand on some tall grasses growing beside the footpath. Even in this milieu, a schoolboy amongst other schoolboys, 'playing with yourself' was occasion for mocking and led to an unsavoury reputation.
One benefit of being weaker than the other children was that I often received permission to go to bed relatively early while the others had to attend 'study hour' after supper. I spent this time, not reading my prescribed school literature, but playing with myself -- delicious!
In 7th grade I became seriously ill with influenza and was taken out of school to recuperate at home, never to return. I studied by correspondence, without much enthusiasm, preferring to read, (everything and anything: fiction, non-fiction, comics, newspapers), which taught me all I know today.
As mentioned above, my parents didn't approve of masturbation but neither did they punish me so long as I was discreet. At this time, and for some years after, I was still physically strong enough to untie the cord of my pyjama shorts, once in bed, and push them down. Then I would spend an extended happy hour or more stroking, holding, pulling and pushing the enchanting 'naughty parts down there'. Eventually I couldn't hold out further and would cum over my chest and pyjamas top. After this I'd fall asleep. Problem was, I didn't have strength enough to pull the pyjamas shorts up again still less tie the waist-cord nor do any clean-up. So, come morning and time for my Mom to get me out of bed and into my clothes, it was only too obvious what I'd been doing. But, she always ignored the semi-nakedness and characteristic musty odour of half dried semen. Thanks, Mom!
Nevertheless, I felt sinful about this pleasure. Where the guilt feeling came from, I can't say but that it caused me much soul-searching I well remember. I would promise God that I'd limit my wanking to three times a week, (I obviously didn't think I could really hold myself to fewer sessions!), and would He therefore please not book me a place in Hell. At an age when the blood is running strongly and the senses at their most aware, to be diverted by such absurd fears ... what a waste of youth and strength.
At one stage my Mom took a half-day job requiring her to leave home fairly early in the morning which meant that the young man we employed as part-time gardener was delegated to dress me after the rest of the family had departed to work and school. A new dimension in masturbation opened for me! The houseboy, as he became, didn't comment or seem to care about what I asked him to do.
Let me hasten to say that nothing sexual ever happened between us. It never even occurred to me. Perhaps the fact that I was in my mid-teens and he was probably ten years older had something to do with this lack of enterprise.
Be that as it may, I almost immediately had him remove my pyjama shorts after my Mom left. I'd sit up in bed, wanking to my heart's content, eventually to cum into a paper-towel. The great difference was that now I could see myself as I played. The sight of my erect penis in my hands, spurting thick milky fluid was absolute ecstasy. I'd sometimes ask him to prop a mirror up for a different view. I also enjoyed covering, soaking, my whole genital area with saliva. Silly, perhaps, but just being able to play with myself, unafraid of discovery or consequences, was such a novel delight ... the slippery spit added to the sensations.
Regrettably, this period only lasted a few months before family dynamics changed my options.
My father developed heart trouble and had to take early retirement from his physically strenuous career which meant serious financial problems for the family. For me personally there arose the problem that he could no longer so easily pick me up and such activities as bathing, toileting, moving from wheelchair to bed/car, etc., all became difficult, even dangerous. Without going into irrelevant motivations, the upshot was that when I was 30 I chose to leave home and enter an institution caring for the disabled.
Naturally, to a person living in such protected and restricted circumstances, this was a fearful change. However, masturbation came to my rescue! I'm quite serious when I say that. Within days of arriving in the Home it dawned on me that I was now gloriously free to masturbate as much as I liked. No parental authority and disapproval to worry about. The staff in the Home were accustomed to clean the residents of far worse than semen, besides which, since they had no emotional or regulatory obligations about us (me), didn't personally care much what we (me), did so long as their workload wasn't significantly increased.
I abandoned myself to pure uninhibited masturbatory pleasure! Every night, no sooner in bed, than down went the bedlinenxxx and up came the penis. I stopped wearing pants in bed (so sexy!), and although I shared a room, didn't care about making a reasonable amount of noise. What my roommate thought, I never asked and he never commented. I just rubbed and fantasised and came and came and came ... what joy!
My technique has been fairly consistent over the years. Physical weakness, which also involves dexterity, always restricted my options, but I never let that spoil my pleasure, finding some other way to feel good, (it's all in the mind, anyway)! I don't remember how I learnt about the pleasures of playing with my genitals nor when or how I did it as a little child. That I started early isn't much in doubt, I think.
Although I don't remember clearly, I think that as a youngster I would use my left hand to caress my balls while my right hand, wrapped round my penis, rubbed lengthways, palm against the sensitive underside and fingers/thumb curled round the topside. I probably used saliva as lubricant.
In later years I had a type of foreplay during which I fantasised elaborate sexual scenarios -- complete little stories with plot and characters. This period was the longest, perhaps 30 or 40 years, and I still love this mental masturbation today. I cup my balls in my left hand, taking enjoyment from the rounded weight in my palm and gently squeezing with my fingers; my right hand lies under my penis which stretched toward my right side. Sometimes my balls are cool and the skin silky dry ... other times I'm hot and sweaty so the skin is slippery ... equally delicious. My sac usually starts out soft and floppy big them shrinks and hardens, pulling up against my crotch as I become excited. The head of my penis is positioned in the hollow between thumb and forefinger and I try to retain the drops of pre-cum. I enjoy tasting this liquid; just a pity there isn't more!
Occasionally I would have enough of this slippery stuff AND enough strength to hold my penis straight up and rub just the side of the glans and it's ridge in the hollow mentioned. If I got it right, the sensation could be so strong as to make me cry out with pleasure, (something I otherwise never do).
The last decade or so has seen a significant drop in my physical ability and the technique of rubbing just the side of the glans with some lubricant isn't now possible for me. I still fantasise, often spending an hour or more just enjoying holding myself while building a lovely story in my head, before going for a climax, (many times I seem to go past/beyond the need/desire for an orgasm and just go to sleep). To me now, the orgasm is no longer an imperative; caressing myself, imagining, as intensely as possible, a sexual situation just the way I would like it, above all trying to experience my sexual self as deeply and fully as my mind can manage, this is a far more subtle yet satisfying self-love personal desire.
Going to orgasm is difficult now for me. I usually need to build sexual tension for several days before my limited strength, (influencing both movement and stamina), is enough to carry me over the edge. I try to catch that last delicious few seconds and relax completely. At that point simply flexing the pelvic muscles will continue the orgasmic cycle, delightfully prolonged, or, ceasing all stimulation, makes it possible to resume stroking a while later. On the one hand, this is risky because my strength and body posture may fail me and I then become unable to cum ... but, on the other hand, orgasm by itself has become far less important. The fantasy stories in my head, the sensual pleasure of holding and caressing myself, these are becoming the sum and substance of my pleasure.
OPTIONS AND WISHES
I would really like to find a pleasure-partner, (otherwise known as a Jack-off buddy). However, since I'm so weak, my options to pleasure him/her would be limited. She/him would need to position themselves very exactly and this might become too tiresome. Security is a factor: if I was taken in by a weirdo, well, I'm much to weak physically to resist. I've used both gender terms, but really a true buddy must be same sex, otherwise the temptation of full intercourse would certainly divert us from wanking. Anyway, although I'm heterosexual, I think only another man can masturbate a man with the same depth and skill.
Which brings me to a memory I'd lost. As a youngster at boarding school I tried inserting objects into my arse with considerable enjoyment. Those days I still could manage this manoeuvre with some ease. The feeling of something sinking slowly into my body is quite indescribable -- I wonder how it compares with the sensations to a woman of something penetrating her vagina? Later, at the residential institution, I obtained, (from a very good and true American pen-pal), a small vibrator, (see further on). It was obviously made for a woman but I thought this was great fun! I loved greasing it with Vaseline and pushing it slowly into my anus. One night I pushed a old-fashioned pen-holder too deep and couldn't get it out again, (probably losing strength by this time). I panicked and made the staff take me to the toilet. I couldn't feel it emerging and they didn't comment, (I was much to embarrassed to confess!), so spent a very worried night wondering about perforated intestines ....
Whether I would enjoy a homosexual encounter is something I've often thought about. I can fantasise, quite delightfully, accepting a man's penis into me, (only worry: pain and permanent injury), but am turned off by other intimacies with another man, such as kissing and cuddling.
To compensate for my weakness, I'd like a vibrator but it would need to have quite forceful 'shakes' and be very light. Even the weight of several torch batteries demands considerable effort from me.
I mention the strength of the vibrator ... perhaps advancing years, perhaps simple weakness, perhaps excessive emphasis on pre-orgasmic pleasures ... but I don't climax easily. In my sexual relations with my lady lover, this is, in one way, a tremendous advantage because she can ride me to her heart's content and I stay erect and enthusiastic. However, after a while she begins worrying that the stimulation and/or love affair is somehow inadequate. So far I've managed to reassure her.
I'd like to run a video camera while I pleasure myself and enjoy the visual aspect from 'outside', as it were. Perhaps I can organise a web-cam. I'd really like to see what I look like in the excitement of masturbation. I've heard of a certain technical trick of virtual reality wherein the person with the headset sees himself/herself from stereo cameras watching him/her. I've heard that the effect is extremely weird, even disturbing, because the sense of being somehow outside yourself is so strong.
I have ideas for sex toys which I've never seen described -- anyone with connections in the industry who won't rip me off ...? One is simply a sleeve made of some stretchable semi-rigid substance which fits comfortably round the penis and is held in place with tape/cord round the waist and/or behind/under the scrotum. The thought is that as my penis grows from its quite small flaccid resting state it will be delightfully stimulated by friction as the sleeve tightens round it. Becoming longer and thicker, the penis will encounter friction and slight constriction which might really be very pleasurable. Problem for me is that I couldn't make and/or fit such a toy myself and the staff of the institution I live in have changed their attitudes : now, if I asked for help, I would certainly be mocked and the gossip would be widely enjoyed.
I've come (pun not intended but fun anyway), across several references on this site to 'continuous male orgasm', 'no contact orgasm', etc. I've tried the technique of coming (again!), within a hairs breadth of climax and suddenly relaxing totally but it hasn't worked for me. I did once experience several days wherein I would have repeated surges of intense pleasure without cumming; the slightest touch of clothing, even thinking something sexy, would set me into an erection during which the ecstasy grew overwhelming, literally. But, I've not been able to repeat this phase nor discover the cause. Often I can get very close to orgasm by mentally imagining sexual intercourse and/or masturbation but never could tip over the edge. Pounding heart, rigid muscles, intense pleasure, breath coming in short pants (puns!), but at a certain point the sensations stop increasing and then fade as I become exhausted.
My penis is a blessing and a delight. It's not particularly long, about 5 inches, but reasonably thick and well formed. The glans has a pronounced ridge when I'm excited. I'm cut but the skin on the underside is quite loose so I can work it up and down to great effect, (just at the vee of the glans is a fantastically sensitive little pad). My scrotum is lovely to touch: soft but with a pleasant texture and, I've been told, ball-wise, I'm 'well hung' -- superb to hold in the palm of my hand. I really love my genitals! Admiration, tenderness, this about sums up my attitude -- they've been wonderful companions in many a dark hour.
A guy calling himself Stephen said something I fully agree with. Hope you don't mind me quoting the exact words -- 'Masturbation is something I love to do but I hate the word. So harsh almost like describing a medical condition. Ditto with jerking off which sounds like adolescent boys giggling about seeing Susie's underwear. 'Self-loving' captures the spirit and essence of my masturbatory sessions.' I like the term, 'self-loving' and also prefer using, 'playing with myself', as a masturbatory term. After all, play is one of the most fundamental human activities ... started as a baby and continued into old age, albeit with different toys. We learn by play, we experience and discover our abilities and preferences through play, we console, entertain, reassure ourselves in our games. Let's all play with ourselves more!
HANDICAPPED ? NO, NOT A DAMN !
By the way, I don't like being referred to as 'disabled'. That implies loss or lack of abilities, whereas I'm more like a top grade sportsman, racehorse, etc., which must be penalised to even the competition with lesser mortals. So there ...!
I mention above wanting to use a web-cam to see myself. One of the disadvantages of a physical handicap is that one can seldom see yourself as a whole person, (I mean, of course, visually, not psychologically). Able-bodied people take for granted the simple ability to stand naked before a full-length mirror -- to bring a hand-mirror close and study intimate details -- to lie on their back and lift their head to see a powerful erection bursting with joy or beautiful podgyxxx furry tender, squishy mons.
I'm becoming so weak now that my hands need to be positioned quite close to my groin else I can't move them close enough myself. Breathing in adequate oxygen and getting rid of enough carbon dioxide is a major and increasing problem ... the practical consequence is difficulty in coping with mundane daily tasks and serious interference with masturbation : I fall asleep! Bummer!
Forming casual or enduring physical sexual relationships. Difficult! Most woman need quite some time before they stop seeing my wheelchair and distorted body and begin thinking, perhaps this guy has a prick under that bulge in his trousers.
Learning what it's all about. Very difficult! As a child I couldn't follow my peers around in their childish escapades, sexual or otherwise. I really feel very strongly about this issue. Reading many of the stories on this site it becomes clear that the simple innocent joys of children enjoying their bodies is necessary to complete maturity. I once said, in a seminar on sexual options for disabled people, that parents of a handicapped child should go out of the normal to facilitate his/her discovery and enjoyment of sex and masturbation by encouraging private visiting and making privacy available to their child. As I said it, one could hear the sharp indrawn breaths of shocked people all round the room. Perhaps this has ramifications beyond the scope of this site, (not to mention adult tolerance of 'questionable' behaviour by their children), but think about it.
Okay, gals and guys, that's enough for one story.