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: Extensive clinical experience teaches the importance of early intervention in the treatment of compulsive masturbation. As soon as signs of pubertal excess are noted, steps must be taken to prevent self abuse from becoming habitual. Although we prefer that an incipient masturbator be referred to a professionally trained therapist, we acknowledge that the wisdom and skills needed to treat youthful self abuse are not confined to the professional caste. Many young boys have been rescued from vicious habit by the dedicated efforts of a strong caring female in his environment — an aunt, a neighbor, a teacher — capable of intervening and rigorously enforcing standards of decency and self control. Often these women employ traditional methods of shaming and corporal punishment, which, when intelligently administered in an intimate familial setting, can be remarkably successful. Peter was fortunate to have an aunt extraordinarily capable to address his situation. That Peter received such early attention and yet failed to benefit can be charged only to his unusual predisposition towards masturbatory addiction.)
One summer early in Peter’s teen years, his mother sent him to stay with his Aunt Emily, who ran a boarding house for young men in the north of England. Peter was quite excited, both at the novelty of the trip and at the prospect of being more “on his own” for the summer. He had only recently discovered the boyish pleasures of masturbation, and he was looking forward to having opportunity to explore them out of the supervision of his parents. Little did he know that his mother’s suspicion of his secret activities was the prime motivation for sending him to the care of his aunt.
After a long, tiring journey he reached her house, an large old Victorian, with a sign out front:
Aunt Emily’s Boarding House
Training and Discipline Young Gentlemen
His aunt was a large, matronly woman of over forty. Plump and somewhat dowdy, she would not be considered attractive by conventional standards. Her black hair had touches of gray, and strong lines in her face crinkled into a smile as she laughingly greeted him. (Peter would later learn that these same lines could equally well frame a frown of terrifying aspect.) She was, however, extraordinarily buxom, a fact brought palpably home to Peter as she hugged him in a warm greeting. She was wearing a simple work dress to do her gardening, and breathtakingly deep cleavage was visible between the straps of the dress. As she pressed him to her bosom his face was momentarily buried between her mountainous swells.
A quick tour around showed him about a dozen boys in her school, ranging in age from 6 to 18. They currently superintended by an assistant instructor, a young woman in her 20’s named Elizabeth.
There was a maid-of-all work, a teenage girl named MaryAnn, with a fresh round used to the open country air. Her shoulder length brown hair was drawn back behind her head in a pony tail to keep it out of the way while she worked. Her big boned sturdy limbs looked like they could do a day’s work on the farm or in the kitchen. Freckled dimples said that she enjoyed a good joke, and a mischievous gleam in her eyes said she enjoyed it even more when the joke was at someone else’s expense. Although only a few years older than Peter, she already had a full womanly curve to her figure, and Peter slyly inspected the swelling bosom of her maid’s uniform.
In one class room, a curious sight struck him. There was a boy, about his own age, seated in a desk chair. But unlike the other boys, who wore standard school uniforms, he was dressed in bright orange shorts that came down almost to his knees. On his hands were oddly shaped gloves, the backs of which were boldly striped red and white. When Peter shook his hands, he was surprised by the abrasive sand-paper like roughness to the palm and fingers of the glove. The boy made no attempt to rise in greeting; in fact he hunched over red-faced, as if he were trying to hide something in his lap. The boy seemed embarrassed, although Peter could not see no reason for this, other than his curious costume.
After she settled Peter in his room, Aunt Emily suggested that he bathe and freshen up, and she would be up to see him later. Finding a bath towel missing, he went down to ask the house maid MaryAnn for one. But as he passed the closed doors of the parlor, he heard curious sounds: muffled slaps and the indistinct crying of a male voice. MaryAnn winked at him “Madam is entertaining one of her boys”. Peter wondered what she meant; perhaps some television program? He had heard that British TV was quite different from American.
As he relaxed naked in his bath, he lay wondering just how big his aunt’s breasts might be. He knew this speculation was not entirely proper, but he also was thinking that this might be an interesting image to explore in a masturbatory exercise, and felt the delightful tingle in his penis signaling an incipient erection. He was looking forward to christening the bath tub with his first ejaculation in England.
Suddenly the bathroom door sprang open and in bustled his aunt. Peter gasped in surprise and quickly leaned forward, grasping his knees to cover his nakedness.
“Hello, dear. Having a nice bath, are we?”
“Auntie, please! I don’t have any clothes on!”
“Oh that’s all right, dear. Auntie Em’s come to see you have your bath. Your Mum wants me to see to it that you learn proper English habits while you are with me. We’ll start with your bathing and make sure you do it thoroughly.”
She pulled up a stool beside the tub and smiled at Peter. “Now I want you to lather up and scrub real well while I watch and make sure everything gets washed.”
She made him take up the soap and sponge and begin washing as she watched. Peter was very embarrassed to be completely naked in front of her, but he was grateful at least that the surprise of her entry had shocked his penis back to a decently flaccid state.
He dutifully scrubbed all his body as she watched, excepting only his male organs. When he was done, she asked impatiently, “Well, aren’t your going to wash your private parts? I’m sure your mother taught you to!”
Blushing crimson, Peter took his small penis in his hands and began gingerly soaping it. He was terrified that it would begin to respond to his familiar touch and betray his masturbation habit with an uncontrollable erection, and to his horror he felt it begin to stir and stiffen in his fingers. His washing became so diffident that his Aunt snorted in frustration:
“Here now! That’s no way to wash your Willie. Give me that soap!” She brushed his hands aside and took his penis firmly in her own hands. She began a vigorous soaping and scrubbing all along the length of his shaft, paying special attention to the sensitive band of skin just beneath the head. “You have to get your Willie good and clean to prevent chaffing or infection. It’s especially important to wash this little bit here, just below the head, as that is where dirt can hide.”
Her stimulation had the predictable result, and Peter watched in horror as his penis began erecting stiffly in her hands. At first she seemed to ignore this obvious phenomenon of sexual arousal, and Peter hoped that she would be finished soon. But then she casually remarked, “There now, see how much Willie likes a good scrubbing? See how he stands up tall and proud for it?” She gave his penis several friendly squeezes and moved her hands away, looking directly at Peter’s bobbing erection. “You have a nice little Willie, Peter. You will make a girl happy someday with it.”
Peter was flooded with confusion at her casual acceptance of his intimate male response. He hardly knew what to do with himself as his aunt beamed in approval at his naked erection pointing up out of the bath water.
“Now I want you to put some conditioning oil on your Willie. It’s very important to keep it from chafing or being irritated.” She handed him a bottle of what looked like baby oil and instructed him to apply it liberally to his member. Peter began spreading the slippery liquid over his penis, not shyly as before but with vigorous strokes, as Aunt Emily directed. He felt deliciously naughty caressing himself openly in front of her as she watched, and wondered where it would lead.
But suddenly she brought him up short: “You play with yourself quite a lot, don’t you Peter?”
He jerked his hands away, leaving his penis bobbing nakedly by itself. “What . . . I . . . no . . .”
“Of course you do, I can tell by the way you stroke yourself. It’s a vicious habit, Peter, and I want you to understand that there will be none of that under my roof!” This last in a scolding voice.
“Uh . . . no, Aunt Emily!” It looked like his summer liberty might be less than he hoped. But then she said more gently,
“We’ll talk more about your little problem later, and Auntie Em understands a lot more about it than you think. But better let me take over with the oil, now.” She liberally doused her hand and began stoking his penis from root to head.
“This is the way to oil your Willie, nice and slow. Be sure to use plenty of oil and rub it in well. See how much Willie likes it, how stiff he gets?”
As she applied the oil, she leaned well forward and her enormous bosom thrust over the rim of the bathtub, cantilevering just in front of Peter’s eyes. He tried to look away, but his eyes kept returning as drawn by magnets.
“You seem mightily interested in my bosoms, Peter.”
“I . . . I’m sorry, it’s just, . . . “
“Don’t be shy about it, dear. Young boys your age are always curious about a woman’s body. Would you like to see it now?” She shrugged down the strap of her dress and her incredible breast was bared before him. It was so close that it filled his entire field of view. Peter gasped at it’s power and beauty.
“Go on, dear, don’t be shy. Take a hold of it if you like.” Peter reached up uncertainly and placed his hands on her breast. He lifted it gently and felt its heft. It felt so soft, and strangely light: it held such power and strength that he imagined it must be very heavy to the touch. Aunt Emily smiled at his timid explorations of her womanly abundance.
He moved his head close to her bosom, the prominent rosy nipple only inches from his face. She looked down at him kindly, knowing what he wanted. “Go on, Peter, it’s all right. Give Auntie a great big suckle. Go ahead and nurse her big bosom like a little boy. You can be my baby now.”
Peter half closed his eyes and leaned forward. He slowly took the jutting bud into his mouth and closed his lips around it. It felt so soft, yet firm and hard at the same time. As he began to suck gently, an incredible sensation filled him. He felt a warm, sweet liquid filling his mouth and he realized that Aunt Emily’s breast was flowing with mother’s milk. How this could be? She was a matronly woman whose own children were fully grown! The puzzle confounded him but did not defer him from enjoying the miracle.
Aunt Emily understood his confusion and explained, “It’s a nice, milky teat, isn’t it, Peter. Yes, I still have milk in my old udders, even after all these years. I always nursed my own little ones, and when I started this school as a young mother, it just seemed natural to nurse the younger boys I took under my roof as well. I never stopped, and my milk never dried up. I still keep it flowing with every new boy who comes here. The little dears enjoy it so.”
Dimly Peter realized that he was not the only one of her charges to enjoy her maternal gifts. How many others, he wondered. Even the older, manly youths in her school? How many of them had enjoyed the monstrous rapture of that penetrating nipple and the sweet warm liquor of her bosom?
At the moment, however such thoughts were far from him. Her continued slow and rhythmical stroking of his erect penis was beginning to have effect that could no longer be ignored. Peter knew what pressures building within his loins presaged. He knew before long he would lose control with the inevitable result, and he had no idea what his Aunt’s reaction would be. After her scolding over his self abuse, how could he issue the ultimate male expression in the hands of his Aunt?
He hesitantly objected, “Uh, Aunt Emily, the oil, it’s making me . . .”
“Yes, dear, are you getting tense?”
“Yes, Mam, . . . I can’t help . . . I’m going to . . .”
“Of course you are, dear. You’re going to spend a penny for Auntie Em. We’re going to rub all that nasty tension out of your little Willie. Come along now, honey, spend your penny for me.”
Peter still could hardly believe that she was inviting him to ejaculate, but his body asserted its own will. As he nursed the warm milk out of her breast, he felt the sperm welling up inside him and the trembling penis began spasming and spurting in her fingers. She clucked approvingly and encouraged him, “That’s it, dear. Spend freely. Push all your little pearls out. Make pearls for Auntie Em.”
After Peter had somewhat recovered from the rapture and confusion of his ejaculation, Aunt Emily replaced her breast in her dress and ordered him out of the bath to dry off. She sat on a stool and had him stand, still naked, sideways between her legs. Taking his little penis in her fingers, she said,
“Now, Peter, we will discuss further your personal habits and the proper discipline for a growing young man. Your mother is quite concerned about you. She has discovered the unmistakable signs of your private activities, and has written to me for advice.” Peter was chagrined. Not only had his mother discovered his secret masturbatory activities, she had told his Aunt about them.
“Now it’s perfectly natural, to a point, for a young man to wiggle his Willie once in a while. Boys have tensions that need release. But if he is left to himself, it can become an unwholesome habit. Your mother has become justifiably concerned by your growing dependence on self abuse. Uncertain of how to correct the problem herself, she has wisely sent you here to me for training and discipline. The proper training of young men”, she smiled, “is something at which I am very practiced.”
As she spoke, she was rolling his naked penis lightly between her fingers. Responding to her touch and the nature of the conversation, Peter could not help erecting again. She drew attention to his condition. “You erect very easily to the touch, don’t you Peter? It is a sign of a lascivious nature and an over familiarity of your member to the touch of your hand. I would like to know more of your private habits; tell me about them now, please, and do not withhold any details out of a misguided sense of shame or delicacy.”
With excruciating embarrassment, as she gently rolled and tweaked his shaft, she made Peter confess the secret and humiliating practices in which he had lately indulged with such joy. Whenever he seemed to hesitate, Aunt Emily gave his penis a sharp pinch to remind him of her authority.
When she was satisfied with the thoroughness of his confession, she concluded, “Well, for a young boy you seem quite precociously engaged in private vice. But not too far for rescue, I think, if we work hard at it. There is time to discuss your training later, Peter, but for now I would like to leave you with one thought. I absolutely forbid you to play with or abuse your male organs while you are in my care.”
“N. . . no, Aunt Emily, I promise!”
“I am glad to hear you say that, Peter, and I sincerely hope that you will keep your undertaking. But I have found that for masturbators promises are easy to make but hard to keep. So I tell you that if you fail in your resolve, you must immediately confess your lapse to me and we will arrange appropriate punishment. Above all, you must not lie to me or hide your vice in secrecy.”
As she spoke, she brought her other hand up beneath his erect penis and circled the neck of his scrotum with her thumb and forefinger, firmly grasping his male glands in her fist. “And let me leave you with this final warning: If you wiggle your little Willie, and fail to tell me about it, I will make you WISH YOU HAD BEEN BORN A GIRL!” With that she squeezed his tender testicles in a vice grip, and Peter cried out with sharp pain.
“Ow! I promise! I promise! Please, it hurts!”
“Remember my warning!” and she let his glands hang free. During all of this discussion, she had been continuously squeezing and pulling his member, and Peter was still fully erect in spite of the ache in his testes. Aunt Emily’s face softened now, and she gently scratched his sensitive scrotal sack as she continued the slow manipulation of his shaft.
“Now your mother and I are both women of the world, and we well understand the needs of a male. We are in complete agreement that while your habit of self abuse must be ruthlessly suppressed, your boyish energies must be directed into more wholesome outlets. I am prepared to allow you to express your male urges in a proper and supervised fashion.”
“You mean, you will let me, . . . you know, . . . like in the bath?”
“Yes, we will give you a spending every day, to keep the tensions under control. I always ejaculate my boys every day, whether they need it or not.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “You mean you . . . do the other boys too?” Peter began slowly thrusting his hips to meet her slowly stroking fingers, hoping she intended to finish what she began.
“Oh yes. Every one of them. That is primarily why they are sent here, to receive training and discipline in personal matters. I believe you will fit right in, Peter — we understand all about boys like you. But now I think we need to get you ready for bed.”
With that she again shrugged down the straps of her dress, revealing her magnificent mammary treasures. She turned Peter directly facing her and pointed his small penis at her breasts. “Go on now, dear, let Auntie have another pearl. Spend your penny on Auntie Em’s bosoms.”
“Oh! Auntie Em! Oh! Auntie Em!” Peter thrust forward and almost at once began to ejaculate, shooting stream after pearly stream into the deep crevasse between her breasts.
— to be continued —