In the sheets of desire

In the sheets of desire I reached puberty in the late 60s, in the midst of the so-called sexual revolution with much public near-nudity that made me feel very funny. I understood from various sex books that the only way to deal with my feelings lay in sexual intercourse, which seemed impossible, since I barely even spoke to girls. I began to reflect on what a friend had told me, that rubbing your penis between two bars of soap tricked it into thinking that it was entering a vagina and that youd ejaculate. I tried it once, but my penis kept slipping out from between the two soapbars. Another time, I was reading the funnies in the tub and somehow wound up placing them over my erect penis. With the extra weight of the water it was very pleasureable, and my stiff penis poked a hole through the papers. I was very aroused and I turned on my belly and rubbed my hard penis against the tub. When I got out, I was covered with printers ink. I never tried that again. An undefinable pressure of sexy thoughts, desires, needs, erections and interest in girls continued to build. One day I remembered how another friend, then 11 or 12, had told me that he sometimes slept in the nude and that it felt great. It suddenly seemed like a sexy thing to do. As I got between the sheets I felt a sudden thrill of excitement. I lay in bed savoring the sensation, without touching myself, until it dissipated. I assumed it had something to do with getting into bed, so I got out and tried it again. To my disappointment I didnt feel anything this time. When I tried it a third time I realized that the feeling was caused by the friction of my penis sliding against the sheets. Staying in bed this time I tentatively drew my penis along the sheets, which I held taut. This was now thrillingly enjoyable and as I became increasingly excited I slid my penis back and forth in an wider arc. All of a sudden I felt that Id gone over a threshold that made me feel Id done something wrong to myself. Something wet had come out and my first thought was that it was blood. I went to the bathroom, to inspect myself in the light. Whatever it was, it wasny red. I went back to bed, and getting in the new feeling started up again. I decided to stroke my penis against the sheets again, this time being careful not to go too far, as I had the last time. But when I got to the brink I couldnt stop, and I realized, this time, that the funny feeling was actually very enjoyable. I dont remember the rest of that first evening: I do remember that the next day at school I only had one thought, to get home and masturbate again. I think I can remember my first masturbation fantasy. The friend who sometimes slept in the nude also had told me that his parents too slept in the nude. In fact the friend and I had had a little semi-sexual encounter one day. He had a gag book about nudists that made us both feel quite sexy, and we decided to strip down and prance about the house in the nude. Throughout this game my friend would call out Hi Mom! as though his mother, who was out, had just returned. I found his mom quite sexy and I guess I had a secret wish to be seen nude by her. I became quite daring, wandering into the living room, far removed from my clothes. My friend and I wound up briefly rubbing our penises against each other, which I liked a lot, but my friend didnt want to try again. Soon after wed begun he decided that the game was over and it was time to put our clothes back on. I remember feeling a lot of regret in dressing. On that first night I thought about my friends mother sleeping in the nude, trying to imagine her feeling as excited as I was. The thought of women masturbating remained my central fantasy for many years. It gradually evolved into practice. Theres nothing for me to match the intensity of sharing masturbation with a partner who also likes stirring up feelings of yore, discovering an intensely pleasurable feeling of trust, openness, and nakedness that Ive never been able to experience any other way with the same intensity. Maturbation a deux is to me is a sort of cooperative narcissism that is as much about exploring fantasies and feelings as it is about performing for one another, slowly and beautifully, and relishing the feeling of as much nakedness as you care to divulge. I feel a little wistful writing about this, given that I have no partner at present. Its been encouraging to read some of the reports women have left behind here -- an excellent partner is, I know, somewhere out there. I welcome correspondance at mousejar@aol.com.