Pre-Video Age

Pre-Video Age by Joe If you grew up in thepre-video age, you recall that home movies were still a matter of8mm movie cameras grinding away in the hands of father or uncle,usually resulting in miles and miles of poorly exposed andludicrously framed and composed footage of family membersclowning in the back yard. In my family it was my grandfather,another gadget-happy child of the depression, who roamed theholiday picnics and Christmas Eves, camera in hand, until hepassed away when I was eleven. For some reason I inherited thecamera and its modest accessories, and for a couple of years Icajoled my friends in to appearing in a few productions financedby my allowance. Then I discovered dirt bikes and the camerareposed on a closet shelf for some time. Somewhere around thattime, I read an article (it might have been in Playboy) featuringan account of a sexuality seminar. Of the early sessions focusedon masturbation, and the author sketched the action in the four(two male, two female) films shown of people masturbating. One ofthe films featured a teenage boy beating off to a paperback book,and the moderator noted that the youngster filmed himself as aschool project. For some reason, the idea stuck with me, takingroot in the back of my mind. I started to imagine filming myselfmasturbating with that creaky old Bell & Howell. Why the ideaof filming one of my masturbation sessions should excite me so, Icouldn’t say. I’m far from narcissistic, and my sexualorientation is quite straight. I think it had to do with thetaboo-breaking aspect. By the age of fifteen I was long pastfeeling guilty about masturbating, but it was still my dirtylittle secret. I couldn’t discuss with my friends, ofcourse, because I would have opened myself up to ridicule, eventhough they were doubtless all fellow masturbators. I guess themain excitement stemmed from the fact that such an act would beso brazen, so shameless. And I was a little curious to see myselffrom an outside perspective. I had watched myself in a mirror onoccasion as I flailed away, but I tended to lose my focus asmatters progressed. After thinking about it for some time, Ibought a film cartridge at the drugstore and set about mypreparations. I had to wait a few days before I could have thehouse to myself. Finally I had a Sunday afternoon when I had afew hours of security from interruption. Since the cartridge containedonly about two and a half minutes of running time, I decided tofilm myself "Already In Progress," rather than startinga whole scenario in which I undressed, dug out one of my girliebooks and pumped away. I stripped nude and then I set up thecamera on a tripod, framing up the whole of my twin bed so as notto miss anything. I got out a copy of a Penthouse which I oftenjerked off to and opened it on the bed. My cock already stood atfull mast, throbbing eagerly as I prepared for this new variationin my masturbatory routine. I smeared my hard-on with oil andstarted the camera; with a rush of blood to my head I leaped onto the bed. I had thought that two minutes plus would leave mefeeling a little rushed, but the whole situation left me soworked up that I had to make an effort not to come. At first Istroked slowly, lying on my side and paging through themagazine’s nude photos. Then I kept my hand still and thrustmy hips back and forth. I let my hand stray to my balls, just toadd a little visual interest. I had not thought to time myself,so as to keep track of the amount of film remaining in thecamera, and so when I estimated that the camera’s supplymust be getting low I rolled onto my back and started reallystroking, pounding my pub for all it was worth. My hand became ablur of motion and my hips rose off the bed and I came, spewingstreams of hot jism all over myself. The camera ran out of filmafter I had milked out the last few drops of semen from mycollapsing cock. I lay there, spent and frankly, felling a littlebit silly lying there with the glass eye of the camera gazing atmy spunk-spattered form. I lay there a while longer and thencleaned myself up and put everything away. Sadly, after going to all thattrouble to capture my own masturbation on film, I never saw thefinished result. Twice I took the film to the photofinisher’s, and twice my nerve failed me at the last moment.I rather regret it now; I think it would be interesting to seethat young adolescent all these years later. Of course, in ourtechnological times, a guy can put his hands on a video camcorderpretty easily, and I still sometimes entertain fantasies ofperforming for my audience of one.