The PeterFiles: A (fictional) clinical study chronicling the activities of Peter, a lifelong habitual masturbator. Copyright 1995-2017 by Onania.Org/asm. Click to Read All Stories in the PeterFiles.
(Editor’s Note: Peter has sought help for his masturbation dependency on several occasions, but with little permanent benefit. This chapter describes an incident while he was in a treatment program that emphasized social aversion conditioning. We are fully supportive of this treatment protocol, which intentionally places the masturbator in social situations where his habit is exposed to others and its humiliating nature may be recognized. — Dr. Margaret Wilson, Registered Genital Therapist)
It was Saturday afternoon, and Peter was very excited. Tonight was the night of the annual “toga party”, a wild, anything-goes bash held secretly by the in-crowd of the university, and Sharon had agreed to take him with her, to let him observe how normal boys and girls relate to each other. She made it clear that he would NOT be her date for the evening, but he was grateful just being able to attend the exclusive and (by all reports) wildly erotic party. He answered a knock at his apartment door, and Sharon entered, wearing a mini-skirt and boots. Her large breasts thrust boldly beneath a thin cashmere sweater, and her blonde hair cascaded about her shoulders.
“Ready to go, Peter?” she asked. “Here’s your party outfit.” Reaching into her purse, and extracted a small leather harness. It looked like a pet harness for a very tiny puppy or kitten, with two small leather loops attached to a leash. But Peter knew what the loops were intended to encircle.
“No, Sharon, don’t make me wear that! It’ll be too embarrassing for the other kids to see me in that.”
She grinned, “Sorry, but I told the other girls all about you, and they want to see you in your genital training harness. Now put it on, or you don’t go.”
With reluctance, he removed his pants and allowed her to snap the harness in place. One loop encircled the base of his small penis, and the other fastened snugly around the neck of his scrotum. Snaps of an ingenious design held the harness in place, and could be released only by a special tool which Sharon kept always in her possession.
“Now, you won’t need your pants. Just put on your trench coat and let’s go.” Following her to her car, Peter felt an odd thrill of excitement being naked beneath the coat.
The party was held in several adjoining apartments in an old building near campus. In the hall before entering, Sharon stripped off Peter’s coat and produced a pair of leather wrist cuffs. “I want them to see how we treat masturbators at the clinic, Peter. Put your hands behind your back.” Over his protests, she bound his wrists together behind him. She rang the buzzer, and Peter stood there bound and naked, dreading the opening of the door.
A buxom girl in a sexy low-cut bra and shiny red nylon panties greeted Sharon. “Who’s this? Don’t tell me– it must be Peter. Goodness, you’ve got him trussed up like a Christmas turkey! Are you as naughty as Sharon says?”
He stammered, “I…I…sometimes.” He hung his head, and saw his little member drooping out of the harness. Under the sharp inspection of the girl, it began stretching and growing.
“Hmmm…so I can see. Well, come with me, and I’ll keep you out of trouble!”
Sharon added, “Put him somewhere he can watch the action. I want him to see how the big boys play.”
The hostess took him by the leash and tugged gently but firmly on his genitals, leading him into the room and over to a couch. “Sit here, Peter, you’ll enjoy watching the party games.” She ran a finger over the leather harness and up the length of his aroused penis. “I can see Sharon takes good care of you.”
The party was in full swing. Most of the revelers still retained some clothing, finding it more erotic to leave something hidden to the last moment. But Peter delighted in viewing the many naked breasts and buttocks of the girls, or the firm and proud members of the boys, which the remaining garments more framed than hid. Nor was so much luxuriant flesh exposed to no purpose: all imaginable acts of pleasure were on view as well. Peter was fascinated by the sight of intercourse performed as openly and casually as a disco dance, or fellatio as matter-of-factly as munching hors d’oeurvres.
For a while he sat on the couch, his hands still tied behind his back. The charming sight of the young man with hands bound and penis stiff in its harness caught the attention of several ladies. Sharon had evidently told them all about Peter’s “condition”, and they now made him recount some of his spectacularly humiliating acts of self-abuse. Peter was embarrassed, but his penis grew stiffer than ever under the looks of the girls. The girls laughed, “No wonder Sharon has to keep your hands tied!”
Just then Sharon passed by, and joined in. She described some of the treatments used on Peter, such as corporal discipline, and then offered to let the girls try spanking him themselves. She held him across her lap while each of the girls took a turn. Peter squirmed and squealed with each slap on his upturned buttocks, but the girls could tell he was enjoying it as much as they. Before long, Sharon felt Peter jerk uncontrollably, and a tell-tale wetness ran down her leg. She made Peter stand up, and he grinned sheepishly in front of the laughing girls as a few final pearly drops oozed from the tip of his softening penis.
Very soon his erection returned, and Sharon untied his hands. She playfully pinched the tip of his penis, and said, “Sharon’s gonna find herself a man, now honey, so you run along and play. It’s party night, so you just do whatever you want– and I guess we both know what that’ll be! Just don’t work yourself into a prune, and don’t make a lot of mess on the rug.”
He grinned and nodded. “Thanks, Sharon, I’ll be careful.” Peter began walking around, idly stroking his genitals. He was intoxicated with the freedom of the party, the license to casually masturbate in full view of all. Indeed, there was so much overt sexual activity occurring, no one even noticed the young man fondling himself. He spent a long time thus, watching the festivities and silently echoing them on his own organs.
Seeing so many acts of intercourse, Peter began to wonder if he might try it himself. His continuing virginity was a torment inflicted by his addiction to masturbation. On the few occasions when he had attempted the normal sexual act with a willing girl, his member, lacking the familiar manual stimulation, had betrayed him and failed to maintain erection. But he felt that the casual, relaxed mood of the party might be just the right environment to allow success.
He stopped by a trio, a man and two women, just as the man was finishing intercourse with one girl while the other sat on a couch beside them and watched. The man gave a final thrust and the woman made a deep appreciative moan, feeling his seed thunder within her loins. When they separated, Peter to his delight recognized Sharon.
Her partner left, seeking liquid refreshments to restore him. Sharon joined her friend on the couch and introduced Peter. He smiled hello, glancing shyly at the gloriously nude body of the girl. She was a brunette, somewhat smaller than Sharon, but with enormous pendant breasts which spilled down her chest. The girl stared fascinated at his erect penis in its leather harness, and Peter’s heart leaped when the she spread her legs and said, “Like to have a go, cowboy? Sharon wore Roger out before he got to me!”
Sharon laughed, “Cindy, you’re barking up the wrong tree. Peter’s a habitual masturbator, we’re treating him at the clinic. That harness he’s wearing is to control him during genital therapy sessions.”
“Doesn’t he like sex?”
“He’s never had any. He is so addicted to self-abuse that he is completely incapable of normal sexual intercourse.
“Gee, is he gay, or something?”
“Not exactly. He really likes women, but he has destroyed his ability to function as a normal man by excessive, uncontrollable masturbation. When he attempts penetration of a woman, he loses his erection. We call it masturbatory impotence. He becomes very excited during his treatments at the clinic and ejaculates when a nurse gives him a manual release — but he can’t handle a real fuck. Show Cindy how you play with yourself, Peter.”
At first he was reluctant to humiliate himself before his new acquaintance, but Sharon picked up the leash and gave it a warning snap which made him wince. His hands assumed their familiar role massaging his genitals.
Cindy was fascinated by his very erect member. “You really are a funny boy, aren’t you? You’ve got such a nice little penis, lots of girls would like it inside them. Why do you misuse it so badly?”
“Oh, Cindy, I can’t help it, I’m a… a… habitual masturbator. I wish I could stop, I’ve tried hard.”
“It must be pretty embarrassing to be impotent. Don’t you ever wish you could have sex with girls?”
“I’d give anything!”
“Maybe I could help. Would you like to try to have sex with me?”
“Ooh, yes! Sharon, would it be all right?”
She laughed abruptly. “Ridiculous! You know you’ll never get it in her.”
“Please, Sharon, let me try.”
“Oh, all right. But I don’t think you can keep it up.”
Cindy spread her legs, and Peter knelt between them. With her fingers, she parted the lips of her sex and allowed Peter to insert the tip of his penis. Surprisingly, he was able to enter and thrust deep within her womanhood. Sharon said, “My goodness, little fellow, you made it in!” Cindy confirmed, “Mmm…yes, and I can feel it all the way down, …nice…”
Peter was thrilled at his success, and under Sharon’s instruction began performing sexual intercourse for the first time in his life. “That’s it Peter, in and out. Push against her clitoris, work for her, that’s very good.”
Cindy urged him, “Oh, yesss… push for me, Peter, push for Mama… oooh… you’ll get a gold star for this… mmm… now push! I’m almost there…”
Peter never knew what it was. An evil genie? Fear of success? Perhaps fear of leaving at last his old and cherished habit of self- gratification, and the loving torture of genital therapy. Whatever it was, almost at the moment of triumph he felt the awful, familiar ebb of tension, and his tumescence deflated inside her. His manhood failed utterly, shrinking and shrinking until it became a pitiful worm which wriggled impotently between the lips of her orifice.
“You little bastard!” Cindy cried. “How dare you go limp before I finished!”
Sharon also was angry at him. “Peter! What kind of trick are you playing? You get another erection at once!”
Peter pleaded miserably, “I… I can’t, Sharon! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… to go limp. I don’t know what happened! But I can’t make it get hard again.”
Sharon was disgusted. “You really are hopeless aren’t you? You’ll never learn to have sex like a real man! Now get busy and finish her off with your tongue.”
He quickly bowed down, and burying his face between Cindy’s thighs, began to lick the domed capitol of her pleasures. “Mmm… at least he can do that well enough… Oh, yes… Thank God his tongue is harder than his penis… ohhh…”
Soon she reached her climax, and Peter sat back on his haunches. She looked at Peter, kneeling before her, and at his member, which was once again jutting in deceptive readiness.
“I… I’m sorry I went soft, Cindy. I really tried.”
She smiled. “Poor little masturbator. I shouldn’t have gotten angry, you did your best. And your tongue felt real nice. Of course, a girl would rather have the real thing…”
Sharon agreed, “Yeah, there’s nothing like a big strong penis of a REAL man. It sure beats the licks of a little masturbator.”
Peter hung his head, “You were right to be mad. I know I let you down.”
Cindy stared at the respectable erection bobbing in Peter’s lap. “Look at him. You’d never know that there was anything wrong with him. Are you ready to try me again, little fellow?”
He looked up hopefully. “C…could I? I might… go limp again.”
Cindy laughed, “Yes, we could bet on that. No, I think we better give you something more your size.” She took a nearby bottle of body oil and doused her pretty fingers. She made a loose fist and held it down between her legs for the kneeling youth. “Here, Peter, I think you can handle this.”
Peter obeyed happily. He crawled forward and inserted his turgid member in her fingers. Cupping his testicles in his own hands for reassurance, he began thrusting back and forth. She held her fist very close to her own womanhood, and occasionally the tip of his organ even kissed at the lips. It was thrilling for Peter to masturbate so close to the divine gates. He could almost pretend that he was thrusting within her loins.
Sharon giggled, “Look, isn’t he funny looking? He’s pushing his hips back and forth just like he was inside a girl. Does that feel good, Peter?”
“Oh, yes, Sharon, I like it!”
Cindy said, “I bet you wish you could be inside of me, instead of in my hand.”
“Oooh, I do… but I’d just go limp.”
Cindy encouraged him, “There you are, Peter, rub your little wee-wee in my fingers, you’re doing real good. Maybe someday you can do the real thing.”
Peter was near to climax now, and it was obvious to both girls. He gasped out “Oh… I think I’m going to… I can’t help…”
Sharon said, “Watch out, Cindy, he’s getting ready to make a big mess. You better make him stop.”
She smiled sympathetically. “No, I don’t mind. Go ahead now, Peter, it’s all right. You can let go in my hand. Show us what a big squirt you can make.” Peter murmured his gratitude as he flooded her fingers with his release.
* end *