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Wanking History

Wanking History

I was always very aware of my erections as a child. I recall being 5 years old and the feeling of accidentally pulling back my foreskin whilst towelling myself dry after a bath and the shock as the towel flicked over the sensitive nerves in the head of my penis. Later at the age of eight I became involved in a game of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" with a girl and a boy that I was friendly with. I was aroused by this and remember being proud of my erect ****, intrigued by the absence between the girls legs and turned on by the other boys penis which with a bit of playing with also became erect. Somehow our parents figured out what we were up to and put an end to our game.




These early erections were infuriating as I could feel the tension of arousal in my balls and stomach but with no idea as to it's purpose and no possible release. I became infatuated with the girl who had shown me her pudenda and would lie awake at night thinking of her and pointlessly grinding my erection into the mattress.





At the age of 10 and 3/4's I found my first pubic hair, a small blonde curl growing on the right hand side where the shaft meets the body. By the time I was 11 I was interested in girls and desperate to see one naked. My erections were uncontrollable, raging hard ons which I still did not know what to do with. My friend, Richard, was similarly afflicted but as he was circumcised and I am not, the mechanics of wanking for us were different. We spent the summer that we were eleven at the bottom of the school field, peeking through the window of a work man's hut where hanging on the wall was a girlie calender. Miss July was showing her **** and through her white knickers you could see the shadow of her pubic hair. We spent entire lunch breaks grinding our young ***** against the door frame as we lusted after this soft **** image. One afternoon whilst I waited my turn at the window Richard's knees buckled and he gave a little gasp. I asked him what had happened and he explained that he had come. I asked him to explain but he wasn't really able to, we lacked the language, ****** wasn't in our vocabulary. He described as keeping going until you go over the edge. I was confused to say the least, the dearth of information as to what do with my **** was driving me crazy.


My **** now had a good deal of dark hair and stood out in the showers that we had after games as being only one of the 2 in our class that had developed that far. The proud possessor of the other hairy **** went by the name of Ian. His balls had well and truly dropped and his thick ***** seemed always to be semi-erect, sticking out from under luxuriant black pubes. One day as we left the showers Ian eyed my **** and conspiratorily said, "When you *** I advise you to ****". This cryptic piece of advice only served to confuse me further, being as all you wankers will know, completely the wrong way around. I asked Richard (who by this time was regularly ******* by ******* his mattress, something I never mastered) what wanking was and he described it as rubbing yourself faster and faster. Armed with this information I dedicated myself to making myself climax.





Bedtime ushered in hours of sexual experimentation, I would eagerly measure my erections pumping my **** with blood to see if I could edge over the 6 inches that biology destined me to have (my **** is however rather gratifyingly thick, a good mouthful). I would stick my **** in an empty toilet roll and hump it in search of the elusive ******. Then finally I discovered gripping my **** and rubbing the foreskin back and forth. I did this slowly at first, marvelling at how much pleasure this gave, but I was also a little afraid. Was this a bad thing I was doing, were these extreme sensations normal? As my pace quickened I remembered Richard describing ******* as keeping going until you go over the edge and so I bravely wanked on despite my growing fear and panic. My ****** when it hit was so strong and unexpected that I fell over, doubled up in pleasure, the waves radiating out of my ****, balls and stomach made my whole body twitch. No ***** came out, but Richard had told me that his ******* were also dry so this didn't worry me.





I then *********** everyday My obsession with my **** that began as a child only grew as I got older. I would **** whenever and wherever I could. Richard and I cut holes in our school trouser pockets so that when erect our ***** would poke through the holes allowing us to **** in class. My ******* became more managable, allowing me to remain standing upon *******. At about the age of 12 I began to produce small amounts of *** and I would sit on the toilet wanking trying to see how far I could shoot my load. After a while I was regularly hitting the bathroom door 3 feet away with 3 or 4 large splats of thick *****. I was very proud of my ejaculations. Once Richard and I wanked together and he was rather impressed by how much ***** I produced, his being somewhat lower in volume. This didn't happen again until years later. I fortunately found a **** buddy called Nick who I was in the Scouts with.





I persuaded Nick to **** with me by offering to show him my Dad's ***** mag. I had found this amongst his papers and as soon as my parents were out I would have a one-handed read of his dog eared edition of Escort. One photo spread featured two women in a bath of baked beans, which I described to Nick. He was understandably bemused by this and said that he would be interested in seeing this bizarre spectacle. He made it sound like an academic interest, not that he was at all interested in seeing a naked woman. I was extremely turned on to be showing this to Nick, my breath was short, my hands were shaking and my **** was tense against the fabric of my trousers, something that I made no attempt to hide, being the little flirt that I was I ostentatiously tensed and untensed my **** making it twitch under the fabric in the hope that Nick would notice. Having produced the magazine I showed Nick the baked bean pictures which to be honest were quite unerotic. Nick having seen the baked beans wanted to leave it there but I was having none of it and promptly turned to my favourite set of photos of a beautiful brunette spreading her hairy wet ****. Nick was undeniably interested in this so I took this as my cue and unzipped my fly and began to slowly **** myself. Nick seemed unfazed and began rubbing himself through his trousers, eventually giving in and getting his **** out.





It is over 15 years since I last saw Nick but I can still picture his ****. so many times did we **** together in the next 2 years. Nick had tightly curled pubic hair and the head of his uncircumcised **** had a slightly blueish colour when he pulled back his foreskin. His **** was shorter than mine but as thick and he had a tendency to produce a lot of pre-*** before *********** which he used to rub into the ridge of his helmet where the foreskin meets the shaft. Sometimes when we had been wanking for a long time the stimulation from rubbing the pre-*** into his helmet would be enough to tip him over the edge and he would *** uncontrollably, his **** jolting strings of **** into the air, once hitting me in face.


Nick and I used to walk home together and our conversations were largely about wanking, how many times we had wanked the previous day, techniques, what page of the Freemans catalogue had the model with the knickers that you could see the outline of her **** lips through, that kind of thing. We would get together at one another's houses before Scouts and change into our uniforms which meant that we could have a **** whilst we got changed. If our parents came in assuming we weren't actually ******* we could hide our erections and claim that we were getting changed. Week after week we took all our clothes off, lay on our backs, thrusting our groins as high as we could with our backs arched, buttocks off the floor and ***********. The fact that our parents were downstairs only added to the excitement as we came over our chests and stomachs.





Scouts offered fantastic wanking opportunities. Nick and I would often share a tent with other Scouts and I would lie next to him feeling the vibrations of him stroking his **** through the sleeping bag. We were fortunate on occasion to have a 2 man tent and would embark on epic night- long wanking sessions. Nick had developed a technique of getting close to ****** and then edging back, the idea being that you get some of the pleasure of ****** but can continue wanking and when you finally *** the pleasure is intensified. We managed this 15 times one night, wanking in the torch light to the point of ****** and then letting the wave subside. Nick's **** and pubes were drenched in pre-***, as he edged back from climax he would express more and more from the end of his damp ****, shuddering with pleasure as he rubbed it into the head and shaft of his *****. We both came massively, shooting wads of *** over ourselves, the pleasure as intense as those early ******* when I would be knocked off my feet.


As I entered my teens I became more adventurous in my wanking and Nick would occasionally join me in wanking in public. A favourite was wanking whilst walking home which was facilitated by us wearing long coats, our ***** poking through our flies. We would walk along cycle paths and footpaths which were rarely used and toss ourselves, careful to close our coats if we saw anyone coming.


The school organised swimming lessons at the local leisure centre and I would always have a **** in the cubicle after the lesson. I would try to select a cubicle with a hole drilled in the wall allowing you to peep into the adjoining cubicle in the hope of being rewarded with a view of girl getting changed. This never happened but I was once rewarded with the sight of Ian (he of the cryptic advice) wanking. He had put an eye to the hole from his side and had seen my ****, he then placed his **** to the hole and began to toss himself off. I responded with an erection and when he pulled away I put on a display for him, cupping my balls and tensing my penis and slowly pulling back my foreskin . I saw Ian take his eye from the hole and replace it with his **** which he had been playing with whilst he watched. I leaned down to the hole to see Ian *** into his towel, emptying his big balls as his bell end twitched in a growing pool of ***.


I had several girlfriends in my teens but none of these relationships got my **** pulled despite me putting in some serious hours with my hands in their knickers. The one time my penis came in contact with a girl was at a party when I was 16 when a mixed group of us stayed over in a room covered in mattresses and duvets. In the night a hand crept under the blankets, into my boxer shorts and rather expertly wanked me off, stopping just before I came with a light tap on the balls as if to say that is all you are getting. I am pretty sure that the ****** in question was my friend's girlfriend, Kate who in later life I ****** and I can attest to her skill with a hand job. She denied it when we spoke about it after we slept together, cleverly distracting me by flashing her ginger **** and running a finger along her slit, I decided not to press her on it.


I lost my virginity when I was 19 to the girl I would spend the next 3 years with and my self-love diminished as I was getting laid regularly. My girlfriend become a master of wanking me off and she joined me in my love of public wanking. She tossed me off in the back of taxi cabs, buses and trains. Various public toilets, whilst driving, in the countryside and memorably once whilst having dinner with her Grandparents.


I spent 5 years without a regular girlfriend before I met my wife. In this time I discovered internet **** and my wanking increased to either several short wanks a day or if I had the time I would **** once or twice for a couple of hours. This is possibly not the healthiest of behaviour but I was lonely and randy. In this time I became interested in improving the quality of my wanks. I experimented with various lubes and oils (regular hand cream works as well as anything, baby oil is also fun) and finally fruit.


Fruit - the melon is touted as the finest fruit to ****, it isn't, it's sticky and full of pips. It is also heavy so it is impractical if you want to move it rather than thrust at it. As a seasoned ****** let me tell you that nothing beats the cucumber. You need to find one that fits your ****, too small and you won't be able to get your knob in. If you have a **** star **** you may struggle with this, but hey you are probably up to your eyes in fanny so what do you care. Take your cucumber and cut it at its widest point, hollow out the inside carefully so that it is a similar size to your ****. Place the cucumber in the microwave to bring it to body temperature or a place in hot water. Be careful it isn't too hot, your **** is more responsive to temperature than your hands. Add some lube if you like but it is usually pretty moist. Stick your **** in it. Depending on how much suction you like you might want cut a small hole in the other end to allow for the displaced air. Divine.

I still like a solo **** and I am sitting here with my stiff **** poking out of my pants and I occasionally take a break from typing to roll the hollowed out cucumber that I have beside me over my helmet. I hope that you enjoyed reading this wanking history, I have been honest with you and aroused by sharing my experiences with you.


Good wanking, wankers!
onanismrules onanismrules 31-35, M Aug 27, 2010

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