Date: Fri, 18 May 2001 07:26:01 -0700 From: Ronny Wernick Subject: MY LOVE LIFE WITH MYSELF This is as true as I can recollect. It is my sexual biography. Several months ago I posted it to the Biography section of Insider, the members only section of Jackinworld.com. Masturbation has been an important part of my life since I was a small child. Now I am a happily married husband and father of three great kids. I have a normal sex life with my wife, but still cherish my love life with myself through masturbation, usually once a day, but sometimes twice. I also cherish the memories of my masturbation experiences through the years. Though many of my memories involve male friends or cousins, I am not gay, and have never had a desire for a gay relationship. But two boys masturbating together is not, in my mind, a gay act, but pure fun and exploration. I always enjoyed it greatly, and I knew my partners did, too, so I never felt bad or guilty about it. When I was about five, I loved to climb. I'd climb anything; trees, rocks, and the vertical support pole for my swing set. To climb the pole, I'd use my arms to pull me up, and wrap my legs around the pole to keep me from sliding back. I'd tire when going up, so would rest by holding myself in place with my legs wrapped tightly around the pole. This put my crotch up against the pole. One day when I did this, I noticed a good feeling in my groin. My thing got stiff, and it felt good to rub it against the pole. So I kept doing it. I did that for several minutes, when suddenly I felt a throbbing sensation, which I called a "tickle." I had no idea what it was, but it felt really good for about 30 seconds, and then I felt limp and tired, so I slumped to the ground, just sitting on my butt at the bottom of the pole, with stars in my eyes. Of course the next day I repeated my performance, and quickly I established a love affair with my swing set that lasted for a long time. I can still remember hugging that pole and humping it until I got this wonderful, warm, tingling feeling in my penis and groin, and hanging there until it went away and my penis, and whole body, went limp. The swing set was in the back yard, in full view of the house. Of course I didn't go do my "tickle" when anyone was around, or when I knew my mother was in the kitchen, but I wasn't very careful about her seeing me. She could look out of any number of windows and see me clearly, but I didn't pay much attention to that because it felt too good. So she must have seen me doing it on more than one occasion, but she never said anything. I did that for at least two years, nearly every day, even in the winter, when I'd pull my coat up just enough to get my thing against the pole. But I remember one day when I was probably seven when it was raining and I couldn't go out. I was playing in our unfinished basement, where I had a lot of my bigger toys, and felt the urge to get my "tickle." Suddenly I noticed, for the first time, the support poles in the basement - steel pipes that held the house up. I'd never paid attention to them before, but I realized they were about the same size of my favorite pole, so up I went, and had a great session halfway to the ceiling. I didn't take long for me to realize the benefit of the basement poles, as they were out of sight of prying eyes, and I was beginning to feel funny about people being able to see me do it in my back yard. I could do it down there any time I wanted without worrying about anyone seeing me, since I could hear my mother if she came downstairs. All I had to do was drop down off the pole. So began my love affair with the poles in the basement. One day I thought I'd try something new. Like all boys, I loved to run around naked, and did so in the basement sometimes. So I tried the pole with no clothes on. Actually, I left my shirt on since I knew the pole would be cold against my tummy, a decision I would be thankful for shortly. I mounted my pole, and started into it. I had just realized that it actually didn't feel very good to have my thing rubbing directly on the pole, since it stuck and just chaffed, when I heard my mother coming. In a panic I dropped down, and had just enough time to pull my pants up before she came down. She didn't see anything out of the ordinary, and went about her business doing laundry and went back upstairs. In my haste, of course, I hadn't had time to put my underwear back on, and I discovered it felt a lot like being naked with just my pants on, with my thing hanging free and rubbing against the front of my pants. I got stiff, and went back to my pole. It felt even better than before, with just my pants between me and the pole. It was about this time that I shared my secret with one of my friends, Robin. He was staying with me for the day, and I wanted to use the pole, but couldn't unless I got Robin out of the way. So I asked him to go up to my room to get something, and he left, leaving me enough time to go get my "tickle," or so I thought. So as I was going to it, suddenly Robin was there. How he got down the stairs without me hearing him coming was a mystery, but in any case he was watching me with obvious curiosity. So I asked if he knew how good it felt to rub against a pole, and he gave me a funny look and said no. So I proceeded to tell him, and convinced him to climb the pole and try it. He did, and rubbed around for a while, but said he didn't feel anything and came down. Well, I was stiff and ready to go, so told him that his thing had to be stiff for it to work, and to watch me. So I climbed up and went to it. From the intensity of my face and the way I stiffened when the tickle came, Robin knew something was up, so he was ready to try it again when I was done. I could see he was stiff by the little bump in his pants. He climbed up, and in a few minutes I could see him getting intense, and suddenly he stopped, and just moved his hips back and forth slowly a couple of times, then collapsed onto the floor. He gave me a big smile, and said that felt great. We of course incorporated my pole into our daily play, and pretty soon Robin was stopping at my house on the way home from the school bus every day for a quick visit to my pole before going home. Sometimes we'd take turns going first, but other times we'd both do it at the same time, on different poles. We'd watch each other, which seemed to make it more fun. Several months later, I spent the weekend at Robin's house since my parents and sister were away. I mentioned that I wished he had a pole like I did, and he smiled and said he had something just as good. He said he'd tried several things, like the edge of his door and his bedpost, and nothing worked the same. But then one night he was restless, and put a pillow in his lap, and it felt good. So he rolled over and rubbed into the pillow like we did my pole, and he had the same feeling. He said he'd show me, and whipped his pants down and grabbed for his pillow. This is the first time I'd seen him stiff (since we always were fully clothed when using my pole), and it was exciting. He climbed onto his bed, on top of the pillow, and went to it. It was neat to watch as his butt cheeks dimpled when he pressed into the pillow, and I could tell he was close to the tickle when he started pressing more quickly, then lay still pushing in hard for a little bit, and rolled off his pillow with a satisfied look on his face. Once Robin caught his breath, he told me to try it, and I was eager. I was already very stiff from watching him, and pulled my pants off and climbed onto his pillow, putting my thing into the same groove he had, and went to it. He was right, it felt great, and the newness of it was exciting. It didn't take long for me to start a love affair with my own pillow, and for both of us our pillows replaced my poles. Instead of going to my basement after school, we went to my room. And I had two pillows on my bed! So we would do it together, side by side. We got pretty good at knowing when each other were about done, and would synchronize so we got the tickle at the same time. I never tired of watching the look on his face when he did it. He almost always had his eyes closed, and I could tell from the look on his face how good he felt, and could gauge his progress by how his butt moved. When he held it pushed into the pillow, he was coming, and I could see the pulsations echoed in his eyelids and small, short thrusts of his butt. When he was done he'd open his eyes and smile at me. When we were done we would usually both roll off our pillows and lay there holding our penises gently as they deflated, and talk about how good it felt. We had quickly lost all inhibitions about such things after doing it with each other many times. Neither of us would be in a hurry to get our pants back on unless we thought someone might come upstairs. In all the time we masturbated together, which must have been hundreds of times, with my poles and our pillows, we never touched each other. That would change when I experimented with others. For several years around then I also had innocent sex play with a friend named Craig every time we spent the night together; the kind of things that all boys do. We would tickle each other, eventually removing our underwear so we were naked, and then fondle each other's penises for a while. Unlike me, who got a boner instantly, Craig's penis would be soft when I started, then would slowly get hard as I played with it. As it grew longer, I would rub my finger up and down the shaft, and sometimes tickle his balls lightly. I liked the soft, warm, smooth feel of his skin. I had an orgasm once or twice while he did it to me, but I don't know if he ever had one. However, there were a couple of times when Craig suddenly reached up and pulled my hand away after an extended fondling, which might have been from his penis being sensitive from just having had an orgasm. I never showed him what I did with my pole or pillow. About when I was nine, the majority of this activity stopped until my cousin started it when I was eleven. I don't know why it stopped. It was almost as though we didn't get the opportunity, but of course we did. So I guess we just lost interest. I used my pillow occasionally, but that was all. But the summer I was 11, going on 12, my cousin Steve came to stay for the whole summer. Steve was 12, going on 13, almost exactly a year older than me. I had a big double bed, so Steve slept with me. The first week was uneventful, but I noticed two things. First, Steve kept a box of tissues on the table on his side of the bed, and second, every morning when I woke up one or more of the snaps on my PJs were undone. Once they all were. I didn't think about either of these things until later, but I did notice. My routine was that I got up early every day to go to swimming practice, and returned about noon. But on Friday I didn't bother to tell Steve that I'd be home early. Every Friday we had a short practice so we could rest up for the meet on Saturday. So I came home about ten, still in my racing suit, and went to my room to change. When I opened the door and walked in, I was very surprised to see Steve laying on the bed, stark naked, holding his thing and rubbing it up and down. His eyes were closed, as though he was concentrating. I wasn't sure what he was doing, but it wasn't hard to connect it with what I did on my pole and my pillow. I got stiff watching him. Suddenly he started speeding up, then stopped, laying stiff, and held his thing as a couple of spurts of white stuff came out, all over his stomach. I figured this must be the stuff they told us about in sex education class. He lay there quietly for a minute, then opened his eyes. When he did, he saw me, and went into a fit. He tried to cover himself with a sheet, but all that did was mess up the sheet. He looked really embarrassed. Trying to act totally innocent, I asked him what he was doing. He said he was jacking off. I asked if it felt good, and he said it did, and would I like to see how it felt. He told me to come lay down on the bed. I did, while he used several tissues to clean himself up. And I suddenly realized why he kept the box of tissues by the bed! When that was done, he sat up beside me and pulled my suit off, leaving me naked, with a stiff one. Steve put his hand on my thing like he had done to himself, and rubbed it up and down. It took a couple of minutes, then I felt the familiar feeling of the "tickle" coming, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. It felt great; even better than my pillow. Steve just held on for a minute, then let go. He asked how I like that, and I told him I loved it. That night when we went to bed, Steve asked if I'd like to do it again, and of course I said yes, so he did it to me again. This time he sat between my legs for easier access, and I loved it. He tickled my balls with his other hand while he stroked my thing, and felt all around my crotch and down to my butt crack. It felt wonderful. After I had my orgasm (dry, of course) he rolled back and did it to himself, but he had to clean up with his tissues. The next morning I woke up much earlier than usual, and realized there was a hand in my PJs, playing with me. I pretended to stay asleep, and enjoyed the feeling. It was then I realized why my PJs had been unsnapped each morning: Steve was playing around. I made movements like I was waking up, and Steve backed his hand out of my PJs really fast, and by the time I opened my eyes, he was laying on his back and looked like he was waking up, too, but I could see the tent in the sheet above his crotch. Of course we did like the night before, but this time I jacked Steve off, which was fun to do. It was the first time I'd ever done it to anyone else, other than the playful tickling with Craig a few years earlier. That night when we went to bed we didn't even bother to put PJs on. We just climbed in naked, and went to it together. When we were done, I made no effort to put my PJs on, and neither did Steve. So we slept naked. I liked the idea of Steve being able to play with me without having to undo my PJs, and I assumed he would. That was the start of a summer of mutual masturbation which we both enjoyed, and continued for many years whenever we got together, until we both went off to college and moved away from each other. For the next several years after my summer with Steve, I masturbated whenever I could, at least once a day, usually two, sometimes more. The funny thing is that I abstained on Sundays, somehow figuring it wasn't right to do it on the day I went to church. The reason I think that it was funny is that I don't remember any reference to masturbation being a sin in our church (Presbyterian), like you hear so much about with the Catholic and other churches. I just had this little self-imposed guilt trip! The one good thing about this habit of abstaining was that my next session, on Monday, was noticeably better than normal, from the build up all Day Sunday, when I thought about it frequently, being tempted to give in and jack off wildly. I stopped this self-imposed abstention probably when I was 15 or so, when I realized that often Sunday provided some of the best opportunities to engage in long, drawn out sessions with myself, since I had more free time than on most other days. Later the year with Steve, when I was 12, I had my first, and only, experiences in anal masturbation. It was with another boy, Rusty, who lived next door. He was at least a year older then I was, and I don't remember ever doing anything of a sexual nature with him before this first incident. He had an idea, and wanted to show me. We camped out in his yard one warm early fall night, and spent a lot of time talking about sex and idly rubbing our penises. We were laying on top of our sleeping bags with just our underwear on. After a while, he suggested that we try something neat, and I was willing. He told me about how he found it felt good to rub his penis on his bed, like I did. He had me lie on my stomach on top of my sleeping bag, pulled my underwear off, then got on top of me and began rubbing his penis in my crack just like he did on his bed. It felt good, and he finally started to push it into my hole. It was hard to get it in since it was dry, but it felt strangely good. It didn't hurt because his penis wasn't big yet. He pumped for a while, and then we switched places. I did it on top of him for a while and liked it, and then we switched back. This time he kept at it for a while longer, and I could feel him building up to a climax, though I didn't know what to expect. He tensed and stopped, holding his breath, and I could feel little jerking motions in my ass. It felt suddenly warm and wet. I hadn't expected he'd come inside me. Soon he went limp, lying on top of me, breathing hard. He didn't pull out until his penis started to go soft, and his penis slid easier as he pulled it out. He was still breathing hard when he told me to give it a try on him. I climbed on top and slid my penis in; mine was pretty small, so it was no problem. I noticed right away that it felt really good, and I began to feel the pressure approaching climax. Very suddenly I was overcome by what I still called my "tickle," and my penis throbbed and was really sensitive. It felt great -- better than anything I had ever felt before. There was no semen because I was still too young, but all the sensations were there. I went limp on top of Rusty, enjoying the feeling as my sensitive penis went limp. After that, Rusty and I did that every chance we got to sleep out, only we were more careful where we put our sleeping bags since we were out in the open in his front yard. We scouted around, and found a perfect spot where a tree blocked the streetlight and bushes pretty well hid us from view from the street. Once while I was going at it on top of him someone came walking down the street. I froze, as we could both see him clearly. I felt really exposed lying there naked on top of Rusty; I felt my white butt sticking up must have shined in the moonlight like a beacon, but the guy never looked our way. The year after my summer with Steve, another cousin came to stay. He was 11 at the time, and really cute. I was almost 13. I thought back on how Steve had taught me to masturbate, and thought I might do Jim the same favor, since I had fond memories of all that. I was hesitant, so decided to wait a day or so to see what worked out. The first night was uneventful, other than it was neat laying in bed talking to Jim. It was warm, so all we both had on were shortie PJs. I could see a faint bulge in Jim's crotch, and wondered if he knew what to do with it. He fell asleep before I did, and when I was sure he was sound asleep, I did what Steve had done to me the year before - I slipped my hand in Jim's PJs and felt his genitals. They were small, warm, soft, and damp, and it felt neat. He got hard from my ministrations, and that turned me on, so I pushed my own PJs down and jacked off with the other hand. It was great. The next night while we were talking, Jim led the way down the path I was considering taking. He asked me if it felt good when I rubbed my thing against the bed. I was really surprised, and of course excited, and got hard immediately. I said I knew what he was talking about, and asked if he wanted to do it then. He said yes, so we both looked at each other sheepishly, and pulled our PJs off. We each grabbed our pillow and went to it. I hadn't done it that way for a long time, and it felt really good, especially with Jim doing it next to me. Over the next several nights, we did that a lot, and I even showed him how to masturbate with his hand like I'd thought of earlier. We ended up doing it to each other by hand once a day, and using our pillows for another daily exercise. During the years I was 13 to 15, I mostly used my pillow to masturbate. That's how I'd learned with my best friend Robin. When I did it with my older cousin, we used our hands, but with my younger cousin, we did it both ways. When alone, my pillow was my favorite. I'd lay on top of it, crease it so my penis would fit in a groove, and rub back and forth until I came. During this time I had experiences with other friends of the same age. Most were of mutual masturbation, triggered by a crude version of strip poker we made up. The one I remember best was one day when Mike was at my house, and we played poker, with the proviso that the loser (the guy who lost all his clothes first) had to lay still and the winner got to do whatever he could to get him to flinch. That resulted in Mike getting naked first, and me, after tickling him for a while, jacking him off to completion. Then he returned the favor. I remember he didn't shoot when he came; his semen just dribbled out all over my hand. Mine shot pretty far, particularly when I did it with someone else. We did that on probably a dozen occasions. Another friend was Billy. We were sleeping in his back yard, and when I woke up in the morning he was still asleep, so I decided to do it on my pillow inside my sleeping bag. I went to it slowly at first, but then realized he was awake watching me, so I abandoned all pretense and went to it in all my glory, coming well. Then I lay back and pretended to fall back to sleep. After a few minutes, I heard noise from Billy's sleeping bag, and stole a glance and saw he was jacking off inside his bag. I just watched while he did it. That night we slept out again, and the conversation came around to what we'd done in the morning, and we ended up jacking each other off, laying on top of our bags, naked. Billy (this was a different Billy) was a friend who I wanted to have sex play with, but never did. He was very good looking, thin, and small for his age. I often tried to get a look at his genitals, but the best looks I ever got were fleeting glances while he was dressing, but when he was with others, he did it quickly and turned away if he could. When in 7th grade, Billy was hit by a car and was in a body cast for several months. His cast had a triangle cut out at the crotch for him to go to the bathroom with, and it was only covered by a loose piece of gauze. I used to visit every day, and hoped that the gauze would slip so I could see his penis, but it never did. I also hoped he would ask for the bedpan while I was there so I could see, but he didn't. I had fantasies of him asking me to jack him off in bed since he couldn't reach well with the cast on, but of course that never happened either. I tried to lead conversation in that direction a few times, but he was very modest and I never got past the point of a very brief conversation about masturbation and how it must be hard in his current situation. I made a remark about how good it felt, and he replied that "it doesn't, really." Though I knew he was only covering up, it excited me to know that he acknowledged masturbating. I really wanted to see him do it. I even took a couple of pictures of him in his body cast, and jacked off looking at them, thinking of how close I was to being able to see and touch his penis. To this day I think that if I had succeeded in breaking the ice on the subject, he would have been a willing and eager partner in sex play. I was nervous about being direct, and wonder how he really would have reacted if I had just talked frankly. Once, about a year later, I was in his room while he went downstairs. I looked in his trash can and found a couple of Kleenexes with semen stains. One was still damp and the smell left no doubt of what it was. I took them and later masturbated while feeling and smelling them; they turned me on, and I imagined him lying there in the dark giving himself pleasure. I wondered just how he did it, and how fast and how often. He must have been very secretive about it because his younger brother slept in the same room, and I doubt they shared such secrets. If he wouldn't share such things with his best friend of the same age, I doubted he would with his brother who was younger. The semen had to be Billy's, since his brother wasn't old enough yet. After that I would check out his trash can every time I had a chance, and always found it had the evidence of several masturbation sessions. I was surprised that someone so secretive about his sex activities would just leave them there like that. I always hid my tissues or paper towels, making sure I flushed them or stuck them way down in the kitchen trash can. Ironically, though, I wasn't able to hide the crusty stains on my pillow case, and don't remember worrying about them. My mother must have seen them. At Boy Scout camp when I was 13, we swam a lot, and I always sneaked looks as Billy undressed. The looks always were fast, since he was careful not to let himself be seen naked. But one night I really got a big surprise when we were all grab-assing in the tent one night. There were five or six of us talking about sex, and the conversation drifted to masturbation. Billy jumped up out of his sleeping bag naked, with an erection, and said "give me a cup; I'll fill it up." That was the only direct reference to sex or masturbation I think I ever heard from him, and the only time I ever saw him with an erection. He always slept with pajamas on, so it was obvious he had taken them off to play with himself. I wondered if he did that at other times. I think the result of the incident would have been a circle jerk or something, because all of us were somewhat openly massaging erections, though not exposed, but we were somehow interrupted. I should have followed up on that later, but never did because I was afraid. There was, however, a lot of masturbating going on in that tent at night. I could hear faint, rhythmic noises at night after everyone settled down. Sometimes I could tell who it was, sometimes not. And often it was me! I can remember being able to see movements in the sleeping bags of boys near me, and it really turned me on to watch them masturbate, though I could only see slight shadows moving in the darkness. I would be doing it along with them, and cum right after they did. Another friend during this time (when I was about 13) was Mike (a different Mike), who liked to jack off with Vaseline, which I had a supply of. For several months he stopped by my house every day on the way home from school. We went up to my room and he jacked off sitting in a chair in front of me in my room. There was never any physical contact between us, but I often jacked off at the same time, while I watched him. I even did it on my pillow a couple of times while he jacked off with the Vaseline. I remember being amazed at how big his penis was, and how much semen spurted out when he came. I really liked the feel of Vaseline on my penis while I jacked off, but cleaning up was always a mess. I used to use Vaseline to grease the bearings on my bicycle wheels, and can remember a couple of times when I got my fingers all greased up and thought about other uses for Vaseline, and would think about it until I finished with the bike. By that time I would be really turned on, and would hide behind something and pull my penis out and jack off with lots of Vaseline right there in the garage. I had a pillow in the attic of my garage, and used to use that when I could, but usually it was either too hot or too cold up there, so I mostly used the one on my bed. The one thing that bothered me about that was the creaking of my bed, so I tried to do it slowly and gently, but mostly when I thought I was alone in the house. Getting caught. Oh boy. One day I was going at it, thinking I was alone, so I wasn't being careful about the bed making noise. I climaxed, and as I always did, I lay there on my pillow for a minute rubbing slowly back and forth in the semen, enjoying the last bit of feeling. When I rolled off my pillow, I saw her. My sister, who was 3 1/2 years older than me, was standing in my doorway, watching me intently. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and I couldn't do anything to hide myself. That would have been useless by this time, of course, but that's the natural reaction. I looked down to my crotch, and realized she had a perfect view, from about 8 feet away, of my boner, which was dripping with fresh semen, as well as the globs on my pillow. I lay there speechless for what seemed to be an eternity, and she just left. I didn't want to face her ever again, but of course life went on as normal. She never mentioned it, though I was afraid she'd kid me about it. I was never afraid of her telling my parents, though. I was never aware of her masturbating, and never caught her in a compromising situation, though now I realize she probably did it, too. The second time I got caught was when I was maybe 14. We used to vacation at a beach up in Maine. We had a small cabin with little privacy, so when I felt the urge, I'd usually go up the hill behind the cabin. It was a state park with a bunch of old gun emplacements from WWII, and I'd explore them, and find a good spot to lay in the sun naked and jack off. I never, until this particular day, ran into anyone up there, so I was pretty uninhibited. This day I was going at it pretty good, and was close to orgasm, when I sensed someone was nearby. I opened my eyes, and to my horror, there was a park ranger standing only about 15 feet away, watching me. Again things went into slow motion, and I couldn't do anything to hide myself. All he did was say, "Hey, sorry to bother you. Go ahead and finish," as he turned and walked away. I lay there in total embarrassment for a while, with my boner gone limp, but after a few minutes decided "what the heck," and went back to what I had been doing. For some reason the fact of getting caught was a turn on, and I had a great orgasm. I ran into that Ranger a couple of times after that, and he acted as though nothing had happened. He just smiled and said "hi" in passing. My face got red and hot each time. I wonder if he was enjoying my discomfort. The last time I was caught was when I was 17. I worked as a Ranger (basically a trail guide) at Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico. I was surrounded by people most days, so didn't get a chance to jack off routinely like I did at home. One aspect of my job that I liked is that after I left a group (I was with them for 3-4 days), I had two days to get back to the main camp by myself, so I'd take great hikes. One of the best parts was the anticipation of being alone and finding a good, secluded place in the mountains to get naked and jack off at my leisure. One day I was way back in the backcountry, and had been thinking about it for a couple of hours. I was hiking along with a rock hard boner for a long time in anticipation. I'd even stopped to take off my underwear and hike bare in just my shorts, which heightened the anticipation and stimulation of my penis. When I finally found a place I thought promising, I left the trail and went far enough to be out of sight, and stripped down, laying naked in the sun on my sleeping bag. I dragged it out for probably a good hour, bringing myself close to orgasm many times, heightening my pleasure. I had a little tube of Vaseline, which made it feel even better, as the hot sun made it thin and slick. I finally let myself come, and spurt all over myself. It was great until I noticed to two boys watching me. They were 13 or 14, and how they got to where they were without me knowing they were there is beyond me, especially since I was at least 100 yards off the trail and there was no camp for a couple of miles. But they were standing not far away, watching me. They were both grinning. One of them had his hand in his pants, and I could tell the other had a boner from the bulge in his shorts. They just turned and left without a word, and I got cleaned up and back on the trail. Later that day I went through one of the many trail camps, and there those two boys were. When they saw me, they came over and said, with a laugh, "Haven't we seen you before?" I was too embarrassed to answer, but one of them let me off the hook by telling me that it was OK, what I had been doing was exactly what they had gone there to do, and they did it as soon as I left. I realized they had done it together, which was a turn on for me, and I jacked off that night thinking about it. In college I always had a roommate, and finding privacy was difficult. When he was gone for long periods, I would lock the door, get naked, and spend as much time as I thought I had to make love to myself. I can remember some pretty intense orgasms, what with the danger of him coming back earlier than expected. But most of the time I had to do it when he was in the room, which was dicey. I'd wait until I thought he was asleep, then do it slowly and quietly under the covers. Since I had to move my hand very slowly, I taught myself some great stimulation techniques, and had great sessions with myself under those covers. I know my roommate did the same thing, as I could hear him doing it (which turned me on so I'd do it myself later), but I never had the courage to broach the subject of doing it openly or together. With what I know now, I realize I probably could have without any problem at all, and we could have had a lot of fun together, and I regret not being braver. Ever since, I have masturbated frequently, averaging probably once a day. Sometimes when I get really horny I do it more (the most I've ever done it is 4 times in one day), but other times I can't do it because of not having the opportunity to be alone. Most of my masturbation fantasies revolve around my early experiences and endless variations upon those themes, but I particularly enjoy reading other people's experiences posted on various websites dedicated to the subject, like jackinworld.com, allaboutsex.org, and proaxis.com/~solo/hme.htm. I find the ones that are similar to my own experiences to be highly arousing, and frequently jack off to them. Putting this biography together was a labor of love, and I hope it gets published for others to enjoy. I have jacked off many times in the process of writing this, as it has made me organize and verbalize experiences that are key aspects of my life. Enjoy! And keep at it; I have, and I will! Comments? E-mail me at rwernick@jackinchat.com