Autobiography of a Wanker

Masturbation, more because of the general attitude towards it than because of the act itself, has had a turbulent history, at least from the nineteenth century onwards. It was called “self-pollution” and considered to have a debilitating effect and even to cause blindness. Now it is recognized by psychologists and sexologists as a necessary sexual outlet for youth and adult, man and woman alike. This essay, however is not concerned with masturbation as a sexual or social phenomenon – it is a shameless account of the masturbatory experiences of a man who has masturbated regularly since he was fourteen and who now, at the ripe old age of sixty, considers masturbation to be one of the most enjoyable sexual experiences of all and an art in its own right.

My discovery of the existence of masturbation, although not the pleasures it offered, was at prep school at the age of twelve. I had, of course, experienced erections but had not associated them with particularly pleasurable feelings. In the dormitory we paired off and got into bed with our partner and played with each others cocks, but I never got an erection doing this, even though my partner did, and I was never aware of anyone doing anything except “fiddling”. Then, one evening, a classmate, who was considerably more sexually developed than I, with a bush of pubic hair and a thick penis, persuaded me one evening, after “lights-out” to join him in the classroom to do some “homework” - something we “prefects” in charge of dormitories were allowed to do. We were in our pyjamas and as soon as we sat down L. F. put his hand inside the front of mine and started stroking my penis. I was surprised, but not particularly shocked as I was a little in awe of him and the size of his cock and also he had done the same to me once when I was in the bath. He took my hand and put it on his penis, which was hard and erect. My penis remained flaccid and he told me to try and pee into my pyjamas – why, I couldn’t think, though the idea attracted me. I tried, but did not succeed and my penis remained limp. He encouraged me to rub his erect penis up and down which I mechanically did, and eventually he took out his handkerchief, covered his penis and continued to rub it himself. A damp stain suddenly appeared on the handkerchief and I innocently thought he had peed into his handkerchief, the pleasure of which I could understand as I took pleasure in peeing a little in my pyjamas after lights out and had recently been accused of wetting my bed because of the yellow stains discovered on my pyjamas and sheets.

So I first experienced masturbation without having the slightest idea of what it really was. When I moved to a grammar school, masturbation – wanking - was the main topic of conversation and I was made to look a fool as it was obvious from my reactions to the accounts of their exploits, that I did not do it. They would talk about “shooting” competitions which took place on “the island” on the river where the school went swimming. It seemed that the idea was that each boy masturbated in turn, shooting his sperm as far as possible. The furthest point reached by his sperm was marked and of course the winner was the firer of the longest shot. mutual masturbation was also rife, though of course I was left out of it and had no idea it was happening, and eventually the authorities decided to bring it to an end. Each boy was given a questionnaire which asked with whom he had done it and how often. Being still naïve and innocent I thought this was referring to “pilling” which was quite simply playfully grabbing at one another’s private parts, another popular pastime. I had done this occasionally to another new boy, H, and dutifully admitted as much when answering the questionnaire. Fortunately it was realised that I was not a mutual masturbator and I was not sent to the headmaster for a caning, the punishment administered to all the self-confessed onanists. Later I was to regret not having gone through the mutual masturbation phase – it is still among my fantasies.

The “unlucky” ones seemed to have learned their lesson as talk of masturbation all but ceased – in fact it was now generally considered as something one “didn’t do”. It was all right for them, but it was something I had never tried, probably simply because I was a late developer; I was fourteen before I had anything like a reasonable bush of pubic hair. I enjoyed playing with my penis, I would often get an erection and I enjoyed rubbing it up and down – but so far it had gone no further than that, even though I knew something should happen. And then, one evening as I was doing my homework, I started playing with my erect penis and a wonderful feeling came over me. I could feel something happening down there, something which required me to continue rubbing, more and more vigorously. I did so, the blissful sensation intensified and suddenly something welled up inside my penis and it exploded. A thick white liquid leapt out in spurts and went all over my desk, my trousers, my hands – and the feeling was out of this world! I had masturbated and experienced my first orgasm. Of course I could do nothing about the feeling of guilt which overwhelmed me – but even that could not detract from the pleasure I had experienced.

The next morning, however, it became clear to me that God had punished me for my sin – my penis was crooked! It curved in a semi-circle and looked most strange and unnatural. How could I appear naked in the shower? Everyone would know what I had done. I rubbed it into an erection - and the situation was even worse. It was deformed! I felt awful for all of two days and then the urge to masturbate again became stronger than the shame at the deformation of my penis. At least I now had nothing to lose! I masturbated without any feeling of guilt – and when the erection subsided I had the impression that the curve was less obvious. Well, I had better make sure. True enough, after two or three more sessions of sheer bliss, my penis was as straight as an arrow and the only difference between my pre- and post-masturbatory penis was that the foreskin had started to recede and this eventually gave the impression that I had been circumcised. 

So, I was now definitely a masturbator – nothing could alter that - so I masturbated regularly, but of course kept it to myself. Masturbation was rarely talked about at school now and when it was it was usually presented as something other boys did and I began to feel that I perhaps shouldn’t be doing it. But I continued - and not always privately. I found that by tucking my erect penis under my left thigh I could, by sitting on my left hand, masturbate during lessons. I was once seen by a schoolmate who accused me of committing the forbidden act but I rather unconvincingly denied it and no more was said. Whether there were any semen stains on the back of my trousers, I don’t know. There should have been, the amount of sperm I usually ejaculated!

For some reason, the best mathematician in the class, H., a rather strange boy who had an uncoordinated walk, was known to be a regular masturbator. Perhaps the reason it was well-known was because other boys had done what I was destined to do with him. One afternoon, H. and I were alone in the classroom doing some revision and chatting when H. started rubbing his trousers. He then opened his flies and took out his penis, silently suggesting I did the same. I needed very little persuading, and when we both had firm erections we each spontaneously took hold of the other’s penis. His was smaller than mine – thinner at least – but it was a thrilling experience which heightened the excitement welling up inside my penis and I ejaculated very quickly, spurting sperm all over my trousers. H. seemed not to want to come as he immediately pushed his penis back into his trousers. I think we then both went our separate ways and no more was said about the occurrence. It had a traumatic effect on me though. I was mortified at what I had done, and I think this harmless homosexual act was the driving force that made me want to become a priest – as if to do penance for committing an unpardonable sin.

There was no more mutual masturbation after this but I did take part in a very harmless “circle jerks” session with a group of schoolmates at the home of one of them one Saturday afternon after school. We were sitting in his room, chatting and it became obvious that R., who had a massive penis (everyone knew that as we all swam nude in the river), had got an erection. We joked about it but this ensured that most of us got aroused too. Nobody took out his penis but one by one we started masturbating and it was pretty obvious that we all came in our pants – at least we each made everyone else promise that he had actually ejaculated!. R. fascinated me – I used to sit next to him in the chemistry lab and one day he drew my attention to his erection. I playfully nudged his leg with mine so that it squeezed his penis against his other leg and he silently encouraged me to continue. I assume he came as he said afterwards that you didn’t have to actually touch someone’s penis to masturbate him.

I suppose I became something of a compulsive masturbator – at least, I did it several times a week. Bed after lights-out, of course, was a common location. The hand seemed to move unguided towards the penis which immediately stiffened – and the rest followed naturally. Once, before lights-out, I was caught in the act by my mother who entered the room unexpectedly as I was masturbating with the bedclothes thrown back. I quickly covered myself and she did not bat an eyelid, although she must have seen what I was doing. She probably accepted it as quite natural, but nevertheless I felt ashamed. Funnily enough it never occurred to me that the semen stains on my sheets and underpants must have made it quite plain to my mother how frequently I masturbated. 

The loo – “Elsie”, a chemical toilet - was also a place to masturbate, the combination of urinating, defecating and ejaculating brought intensified pleasure. Once I masturbated by rubbing a half-erect penis against my anal orifice so that the sperm shot out, if not into my arse, then all over it. The bath, also was an ideal place, with soapy hands sliding smoothly over the penis increasing the intensity of the orgasm.

I became very deft at masturbating in my trousers by putting my hand in my pocket, arranging my penis so that it was pointing vertically towards my stomach and then rubbing it with the minimum of hand movement. I could do this undetected (I assumed) while in company. On one occasion I did it while playing a game of table-tennis with my sister. Whether or not she thought it strange I should be playing table-tennis with one hand in my pocket, I don’t know! Also, I must have smelt of sperm, as my pants were frequently soaked in it!

Of course, it was known to me that the “natural” reason for my penis being able to ejaculate sperm was not solely to give me pleasure but to impregnate a member of the opposite sex and so perpetuate the human race. As I grew older the thought of “fucking” a girl instead of masturbating became a pleasurable fancy, but actually doing it with any girl I had ever met was wholly out of the question. It was something one didn’t do. So one masturbated and fantasised. I remember going for a long walk the evening before my “A” Levels started and imagining a woman appearing out of nowhere and persuading me to make love with her. The epilogue of this fantasy was, of course, a brief pause in my walk to sit on the grass behind a hedge, take out my penis and slowly masturbate. Masturbating outside was particularly enjoyable – there was a sense of oneness with nature as the sperm fell on the grass or leaves. Masturbating outside is something I have practised with particular enjoyment throughout my life. On walks I would stop to have a pee and end up masturbating as well and sometimes I combined it with defecating. Once I went for a walk with nothing under my plastic rain trousers which had only holes for pockets so that I could masturbate throughout the walk, the plastic against my skin providing an extra stimulant. However the climax to my open-air masturbating came later on in life when I rolled naked in the morning dew high up on a mountain and masturbated into the grass.

The year after leaving school I added another masturbatory method to my repertoire, which, as yet, was not particularly imaginative. I started working in Salisbury and my godmother gave me some money to buy a moped, to save on bus-fares. It was not long before I realised that if I arranged my penis so that it was pressed against the saddle, the vibrations of the engine would bring me delightfully to orgasm and I could control the timing of it at will. It was also at this time that I used “pissing” as a stimulator, although in a very anti-social way. I would go into a public toilet near the theatre, where I went every week, enter the cubicle and urinate all over the place, over the walls, lavatory bowl, floor, and then, suitably aroused, masturbate, making sure that the sperm was in an easily noticeable place. I did not realise it at the time, but this was the forerunner of a masturbatory stimulant that I would use and develop later in life.

Leaving home and going up to London change the venue but not the method of my masturbatory pursuits. When staying in hotels I took delight in leaving obvious semen stains on the sheets for the chambermaid to see. I was tempted to wet the bed as well but never dared. The most I did was defecate in the bath, until once I blocked the drain and had great difficulty unblocking it! Stains on the sheets always excited me. Once when, to earn some extra money, I was doing some housework for some friends who were homosexual and, when making the bed, I discovered semen stains on the sheets. I immediately got an erection and was tempted to add mine to them, but restrained myself and went to the toilet to masturbate. In London I discovered that public toilets sported verbal and pictorial pornography, usually crude, but for me, exciting. I would frequently masturbate in public toilets, usually onto the floor. Once I masturbated into a pornographic drawing on the door, only to find that my sperm was trickling down to the floor and could be seen by anyone who happened to be on the other side. 

It was soon after leaving home that I started having sex with girls, which I found both physically and psychologically preferable to masturbation, though it did not entirely replace it. My sex drive was such that my prick needed at least four or five outlets a week, be it up a vagina or between my hands. There was something about the freedom of masturbation that made it a very relaxing as well as invigorating pastime. I never admitted to a girl that I masturbated, and at that stage I didn’t realise that girls also did it – otherwise I might have brought the subject up.