Fergus MacDougal – Magazines

In the Onania Masturbator Forum, a Masturbator Wrote:

Continuing from the last post – I had discovered how to masturbate, but was fixated on achieving rapid orgasm. I was eleven years old at the time. The next phase involved prolonged masturbation using sexy pictures.


Fergus MacDougal – Magazines

Continuing from the last post – I had discovered how to masturbate, but was fixated on achieving rapid orgasm. I was eleven years old at the time. The next phase involved prolonged masturbation using sexy pictures.

A major change in my masturbational behavior came when a friend loaned me a magazine he got from his older brother. It consisted of black and white photos of nude women. The poses were modest and the captions were about photographic style and technique. But the girls were completely naked, their breasts thrust out to be admired. The instant I saw the first picture I got a boner, and as I leafed through page after page my erection got more and more urgent, painfully trapped in my tight jeans. I just knew, instinctively, that naked girls and this thing I liked to do with my penis were somehow connected. I took the magazine home and masturbated my way through it, sixty pages, more than a hundred photos, too fascinated to allow myself to orgasm until I reached the end.

I had custody of that magazine for only one week, but it was a glorious adventure with hours of masturbation every day. I hated to give it back, and was devastated to hear that the owner had burnt it to avoid parental discovery. Luckily many of my friends were at the same stage of sexual development, eager for girly pictures to masturbate with, so new and wonderful magazines were available to fuel my new passion.

That began stage five, masturbating while looking at erotic images. No longer did I just thrash out an orgasm as fast as possible, I enjoyed steadily stroking my penis as I stared hungrily at the nude girls, keeping it going, page after page, girl after girl. Eventually I would decide to orgasm, but if circumstances permitted I would start up again soon after, stroking and staring. Instead of six to ten quick jerk-offs a day, each of them lasting two minutes, I would masturbate for half an hour or longer, three or four times every day. On rare occasions when I had sufficient privacy I would masturbate all day long, steadily stroking, allowing myself to climax every hour or so. Orgasm and ejaculation were no longer my only goal, that was just the paramount sensation of each session. My real goal was the length of time I could spend stroking at full erection, hours of sexual excitement and penile pleasure.

Finding new nudie magazines to fuel my lust became an obsession. I was too young to buy my own, but boys I knew got them in various ways and we traded them around. Strangely enough, we never discussed what we were doing with the magazines, nobody admitted that they masturbated. But I assume they were all secretly doing themselves just like I was, though I may have been more obsessed than most. It was well known in my circle of friends that if there was a tit magazine available for loan or trade, I would eagerly take it.

Most magazines had a standard structure – three girls each featured in four to six pages of photographs. They might start with bathing suit shots or lingerie cheesecake poses, but at least half the pictures were always of girls stark naked. In those days poses were cleverly arranged not to show a hint of what might be between a girl’s thighs, and there was no trace of pubic hair. The girls were never posed in a position that suggested the possibility of intercourse, though I didn’t understand that at the time. Mostly they smiled for the camera and offered their breasts for readers’ appreciation. It was simple, almost innocent, but it sure as hell worked for me. Girl after girl, it kept my penis stiff, my hand stroking steadily. It was my favorite thing in the world.

Gradually I built a collection of erotica, a paper grocery bag of magazines hidden in my closet. There were many titles, some were sort of sleazy, others were more coy, but one thing they all had in common was photographs of bare breasts. A few of them broke the pattern of only three photo sets and consisted entirely of photos, dozens of different girls. I devised a rating system and cataloged all my girly mags – one point for each new girl, another point for each photo where she was completely nude, one point per breast, another per nipple, a point for a shapely bare behind, and finally a point for showing that mysterious air-brushed triangle where her thighs came together. Then I awarded a bonus point to the photo I was staring at when I climaxed.

I kept this data in a spiral notebook stashed with the magazines, a token of how obsessed I was! An average magazine might score twenty points per photo set, sixty for the whole magazine. My best magazine scored over two hundred. My favorite single pictures – naked, both breasts, pubic triangle, and responsible for repeated orgasms, might score ten points. Since I cycled repeatedly through my stack of magazines, certain choice photos would gain points steadily as I shot cum while staring at them. The cryptic notations and numbers would be meaningless to anyone else, but to me they represented the joy of masturbation.

Always ready to masturbate, or talk about it, or write about it…

 

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