Category Archives: Chronic stories

Stories of chronic masturbators, extreme masturbation activities, etc. Includes some gay.

Big-Breasted Dru

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Guided Masturbation Stories

Big-Breasted Dru

alt.sex.stories, 1995. Breasts aren’t only for babies

Mamintb I want to relate a story about a girl that I knew in college, her name was Dru. This was about 14 years ago, but I remember her like she was standing here in front of me. You see, I’ve always been a big tit lover. The bigger, the better. Nowadays, you get the strippers and porno stars with their enhancements, and I might be the only one around here who actually loves seeing them that large. Anyway, Dru was all natural. And her tits weren’t HUGE, but they were big, nice and big. She told me she was a size 40DD.

Anyway, I met her my sophomore year in college, and we hit it off pretty well right away. We tried to be together as often as possible, and as we lived in dorms that were next to eachother, that was pretty easy. We started out slow sexually, a little kissing and feeling up, and those tits of hers felt wonderful. They were the largest I had ever had, and I went to town on them, sucking, kissing, smothering my face in between them. After a little while, we started experimenting with oral sex, and as this was my first experience in this area, well, what can I say, it was wonderful. There was no better feeling that I had ever felt before in my life as her sucking on my cock. And she loved to do it, which was absolutely no problem for me. And she loved me between her legs, licking her to orgasm after orgasm. We had a wonderful time together, and since my roommate had a girlfriend, and her roommate had a boyfriend, we got to spend a lot of wonderful nights together.

Needless to say, I was really enjoying my sophomore year. I buried myself in her ample busom enough that her bras got to know me by name. Anyway, after we had been going out about 4 months, we were talking and she asked me if there was anything sexually that I wanted to try that we had not. Now, we had discussed having intercourse, and we both admitted that the timing was not right yet. So I knew she wasn’t talking about that. I confessed to her that it had always been a fantasy of mine, ever since I was old enough to think of such things, to fuck a girl between the tits. I had been thinking of approaching her about this for a couple weeks, but didn’t have the guts to ask and since I didn’t know how she would respond, I was scared. She looked at me for a second, and I thought “Shit, I blew it”. But just then, a huge smile crossed her face, and she said “I was hoping you’d say that, because I’ve wanted to feel your cock in there for a while”. SCHWINNNNNNG.

Since we were supposed to get together for the night the next day, we decided to wait until then. I couldn’t keep my thoughts on anything other than burying my cock between her mounds and pumping back and forth. To say that it was the longest 24 hours in my life would be an understatement. I went to the store and bought some baby oil, as I thought this would make for some nice lubrication. My roommate was going home for the weekend, so Dru and I would be spending the night in my room. I straightened everything up, making sure that this evening would be perfect. She arrived, and we got right down to business.

We started kissing and groping eachother, and soon we were naked. After a couple minutes of feeling and nibbling and kissing, we got into a 69, and the juices really started flowing. She sucked and slurped at me cock as I’ve never seen before, and she was so wet that my face was soaked immediately. After about 10 minutes of this, she hopped off my face, held her wonderful tits out to me, and said those words I will remember the rest of my life; “Honey, are you ready to fuck my big tits?”. I said “No thanks, I’m not in the mood”. Just kidding. I could hardly utter the words “You bet”, I was so excited. I went to the dresser and got my bottle of baby oil, as she moved the blanket down from the bed and got on her back. “Give me that bottle for a second” Dru said. She slowly poured a few squirts of the clear liquid on each breast, and let a huge squirt go right between her tits, and she then rubbed it in, ever so slowly, looking at me with loving eyes. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was actually a few seconds, she motioned for me to hop aboard.

I straddled her, and slowly placed myself in between her jugs. She immediately started moaning, and quickly grabbed each breast from the side and squeezed them together tightly. Already, I was in heaven. I started out thrusting slowly, wanting to savor this moment. Wow, it felt so good. Slipping and sliding, my cock seemed to take on a life of its own. I found myself thrusting faster and faster, while Dru wrapped her tits tighter and tighter around me. I reached down and started squeezing her nipples, which made her moan with pleasure. Our eyes locked, and we smiled that knowing smile at eachother. Dru seemed to be enjoying this as much as I was. I was now thrusting faster and faster, and I could tell that this would not last too much longer. I told Dru this, and she said not to hold back, that there would be more than just this one tonight. She said to me “I want you to come all over my tits, baby. Just let it flow”. Finally, I could take no more, and after a particularly hard thrust, I let it go. The first spurt hit her right under the chin, and she immediately opened up her mouth to catch anything else that might “come” her way. “My god”, I thought, “I have never had an orgasm as intense as this.” The next load landed right at the base of her neck, and then I pulled away a little to spray her tits. It wouldn’t stop coming out, spurt after spurt. Finally, she reached up and gave it one last stroke, with a final drop coming out and landing right on her left nipple. She looked up at me, and started rubbing my come into her tits lovingly, stopping to lick it off her breasts occasionally. I couldn’t help myself, and started rubbing it in myself, carressing it into her tits and between them. I finally collapsed, unable to do anything. We hugged, and my goo got all over my chest. I loved it. This was so much better than I could ever have imagined. Dru looked over at me and said “Honey, I know you enjoyed it, I just wanted to let you know that I enjoyed it immensely myself.” I immediately dove between her legs and began eating her to a fantastic orgasm.

 

Technorati Tags: Chronic Masturbation,Masturbation Addiction,Compulsive Masturbation,Guided Masturbation,Onania,PeterFiles

Oh Honey, Make Yourself Cum for Me

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Guided Masturbation Stories

Oh Honey, Make Yourself Cum for Me

A well-written masturbator’s autobiography

By Jim

Most people, especially today. find they have a need for down time. To me masturbation is a part of that personal down time. If possible, when I’m in the house alone, I will undress and just enjoy walking around the house nude. I’ll usually put on some acoustical music and close my eyes and imagine how my orgasm will be. I decide how I will make love to myself.

Usually I’ll become erect thinking about what I want to do to myself. Once I’m erect I’ll open my eyes and look at my penis but not touch it. By not touching myself right away, I soon find the strong urge to do so. Eventually I’ll find the urge too strong and began to pull the foreskin up and down, but doing so quite slowly. Once the sexual tingle begins, I try different ways of touching myself. If I become aroused quickly, I will try to just slightly rub the back of my penis with just my index finger. This usually just teases me and holds my arousal at a certain point which causes my sexual instinct to apply more friction, which I fight not to do.

Eventually, I’ll let my instinct override my desire to hold back and began to stroke with all fingers and thumb. When I reach a certain point, I’ll see a drop of pre-cum ooze out the slit and for some reason this intensifies my sexual feelings. The pre-cum makes me think of my orgasm and for some reason I enjoy immensely watching myself ejaculate. Sometimes at this point I am so turned on that I will scoop up the drop of pre-cum and lick it off my finger.

It usually won’t be long until I can hold back no longer but I try as hard as I can to not reach the point of no return. Barely touching myself will send shivers of ecstasy throughout my body and the desire to let myself go increases greatly, but I hold back knowing that the longer I put off orgasm, the larger the volume of cum I will ejaculate and thus the longer I can watch it spurt from my penis.

FIRST ATTEMPTS

I was about 11 and was taking a bath, washing my private area with a washcloth and got an erection. At this point, erections were uncomfortable and a just a pain. I’d been having them since about 7-8 years old. I noticed that rubbing the washcloth over the head of my penis felt kind of good, but before long the intensity got stronger and I got a little afraid that I was doing some damage to myself and quit.

It was a couple of years later that I actually had my first orgasm. I feel kind of weird about it but my oldest sister masturbated me.

My first experience was kind of innocent. I had gotten stung by a bee that had crawled up my summer shorts. My oldest sister was the only other person at home at the time and she knew how to take care of it. I had to pull my shorts down so she could get the stinger out and put a poultice on the sting. The shorts had built in briefs, so she saw my penis, which was embarrassing. She was about 18-19 though and I trusted her to not make fun of me, which she didn’t do. After she held the poultice to the sting for a while, I became erect, which really embarrassed me. I apologized to her and told her I didn’t understand why my penis did that.

She told me it was ok, and asked me if it didn’t get hard when I masturbated. I had never heard the word before and told her I didn’t know what it meant. She said, you know, when you rub your penis to make it feel really good. I told her I had never done that before. She was kind of surprised and she said that if I did, it would probably make me forget about my bee sting. I told her I didn’t know how to do it so she told me she would do it for me so that I’d know how to do it and that it would make me forget about the bee sting. I was curious as to what she was talking about and again, I trusted her so I said OK. She began to pull my foreskin up and down my shaft, slowly at first and asked me if that felt good. Her warm hand did feel good but I really didn’t feel anything else at first.

My erection got harder and I didn’t understand why. In a few minutes I could start to feel a little tingle and the tingle felt kind of good. As the tingle became more intense, I remembered the time I had rubbed the washcloth over the head of my penis and I kind of panicked. She reassured me that that was the way it was supposed to feel.

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Caught Humping the Couch

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Chronic Masturbation Stories
Technorati Tags: Chronic Masturbation,Masturbation Addiction,Compulsive Masturbation,Guided Masturbation,Onania

HowtoPunishaMasturbator 

A boy caught humping the couch by his mom 

I’ve been masturbating for as long as I can remember. We used to have a TV and a couch in my basement, and as a small child I can remember how much I liked being alone down there at night. I used to turn the lights off and watch TV. There were things I saw on TV that stimulated me – I don’t remember exactly what, because its too difficult to put myself back into the mindset of a child of 5 or 6.

But when I did get stimulated, what I used to do was push the couch away slightly from the wall, climb up on the ridge, and hump the couch while I continued to watch TV. There was this delicious feeling I used to get from rubbing against the couch – because the rubbing and humping made my peter dance around in my PJs. The feeling would build like a wave, radiating outwards from my crotch until it threw this electric shock all theough my body.

While I was doing this, I was conscious of the footsteps upstairs. I knew what I was doing was dirty, and I knew that no one should know that I did this. Sometimes I would be up there on the ridge of the couch, and I would hear my mother’s heels approach the basement door. It was like a race – if I wasn’t far enough into it, I could force myself to stop, climb down from the couch and push it back against the wall.

But one time she approached the door at exactly the worst moment-just as that wave started. So I couldn’t stop. My head knew something bad would happen, but my body couldn’t stop what it was doing because that electric feeling was starying to build. I heard her heels on the stairs while I was still humping madly. And when I opened my eyes, she was standing at the bottom of the stairs, shocked at what she saw – her little boy humping a couch. Like a dog.

“What are you DOING!” She seemed almost frightened. Shocked at the realization that there was a rabid little animal into what she thought was her sweet little boy.

Me – I was red with shame. I didn’t answer her. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t have explained it, because I didn’t understand what I was doing. We never spoke of this. But I didn’t stop. I still watched TV at night in the dark. I still climbed up on the couch at least once a night. Only now when she needed to come downstairs for something, she always approached the door slowly. Very slowly.

College Masturbation: Freshman Days

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Guided Masturbation Stories

caughtjerkin2

I had arrived! Mom and Dad weren’t around. I had freedom! I had friends (girls & guys). It was so exciting those first few months of freshman year. It was also scary. As in: I had to share a reasonably large dorm room with three other young ‘ men’; sharing that space was not so easy. As in: What are you supposed to do when you’re horny? At home the bathrooms were easily accessed and no one seemed to care. Here, what was I supposed to do? WELLLL, let me tell you.

Start with sexy young women. It seemed there were SEXY young women EVERYWHERE. I had never seen so many in one place! Sooo … put four horny, eighteen year old guys in one room with one bathroom and sooner or later (actually sooner) they learn each of them masturbate (often). And one better not make fun of the others, cause eventually you’ll get caught yourself!

There were only two private places in which to masturbate: our private bathroom and one’s bed. Yes, we had bunk beds … oh joy. Continue reading →

Boy Meets Orgasm

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A story from the Net

dealing with adolescent male sexuality and experiences of a teenage boy discovering his sexuality.

Note: some of the parts may be missing or out of order

Boy Meets Orgasm

Part 1: Cory’s Most Excellent Discovery

Cory felt a warm feeling all over as he his daydream continued. His dick was throbbing as he smiled and enjoyed his pleasurable thoughts. It can’t get any more enjoyable than this Cory thought as he adjusted his rock hard dick in his pants while trying not to attract attention from his classmates.

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Betty Dodson

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Technorati Tags: Chronic Masturbation,Masturbation Addiction,Compulsive Masturbation,Guided Masturbation,Onania
Chronic Masturbation Stories

bettydodson

Betty Dodson

A boy discovers Betty Dodson and is discovered in flagrante by his mother’s friend. From the net, circa 1995

My mother’s friend Peggy lived in a house near town with her two young sons, both of whom were still too small to do many chores around the place. It followed that I would be offered up from time to time by my mother to complete various tasks around her friend’s home.  One such Sunday when I was about fourteen or fifteen, I worked on the upstairs landing of Peggy’s house, painting the door frames with white acrylic latex. It was rather boring work, and my eyes frequently lit upon the spines of the books arrayed on the many shelves opposite the railing.  Besides the inevetable [and eye-catching] blue-and-white “Catch-22,” there were assorted novels, old college textbooks, and other such. One book–really looking more like a pamphlet, with a stapled spine and no title showing–caught my eye after a time, and eventually I wandered over to pull it out and read the title, more out of a need for closure than curiousity.

It was lettered in freehand script, a little hard to make out, but there was no mistake: “Liberating Masturbation: a Meditation on Self Love.” I could hardly believe my eyes. Could there be such a book? My hands almost trembled as I opened the book, wondering at the contents. I had completely forgotten about my task, the paint fumes that filled my nostrils powerless to remind I was supposed to be working. It was somewhat difficult reading, as it was set in handwritten script, clearly published by the author [the wonderful and inimitable Betty Dodson, the irrepressible "Mother of Masturbation"], and illustrated with her drawings.

I hurried through the text, trying to glean what I could of its content as I felt myself getting hard. The book described a workshop which Betty held in which a group of women sat around nude and exchanged stories about their sex lives and then masturbated together!  The mere idea set my head spinning. I had never participated in circle jerks, but I had experienced vague longings for such contact. I’m not sure it was out of homoerotic desire [though such things can certainly encroach on a straight young man's thoughts at that age] as much as out of a desire to come out of the closet, to throw light on the dirty little secret that nearly everyone shares but no one speaks of. A pang of envy at the free and open feeling of Betty’s masturbation rituals mixed with the heightening arousal I felt, attested to by a throbbing erection. The author had illustrated the book with a few pen-and-ink drawings, some of which were close-up views of women’s cunts. In the early 1970′s, most women still grew up thinking that their cunts were ugly or dirty, and a lot of Dodson’s workshop dealt with women becoming more comfortable with their bodies. But it was the mental image of a circle of women all masturbating together, arousing themselves with the sight and sounds of other women beating off, was just too much. Hardly aware of what I was doing, I reached down to my pants and sent them sliding down to my knees.

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Caught masturbating by his mother

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Chronic masturbation stories

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Caught masturbating by his mother

from the net, 1995

Boy is caught masturbating by his mother

I first started masturbating at around three years of age [one of my earliest memories is of humping the mattress when I was supposed to be napping or sleeping], and got quite obsessive about bringing myself off as I got older; by the age of fourteen I was jacking off two or more times a day. With all that wanking going on, the wonder is that I didn’t get caught sooner. But when my mother finally did catch me at it, she caught me three times in two days.(!?!)

It started on a Saturday afternoon, when my morning chores were done and I had not much of anything to do. As was usual in such circumstances, my mind and hands eventually turned to the time-filling possibilities of autoeroticism. At first I just rubbed myself through my pants and engaged in a litle sexy daydreaming, but after a while I got hard and horny and so I took off my pants and underwear and started stroking away.

Once I was fully hard, I oiled up my stiff cock and started pumping, slowly, just teasing the head with the palm of my other hand. My tempo gradually increased in proportion to my heat. My hips started to thrust against the strokes of my hands as I imagined that I was watching a woman playing with herself [fantasies, stories, videos, pictures, anything about female masturbation just sends me right to the moon, yikes....].

After teasing myself almost to orgasm a couple of times, to heighten my arousal, I decided it was time to come, and I really got into it then, flailing away with both hands, my ass bouncing off the bed as I thrust my cock upward. My breath was in short, ragged gasps when I head someone coming down the hall toward my room: I recognized my mother’s step at the same moment I realized that I had neglected to lock my bedroom door before embarking on my little trip to wankland.

I leaped up from the bed just as the door started to open and jumped into the doorway of my closet, as if I was looking for something in there. A pretty thin charade, undermined by the buckling of my knees as my balls clenched and a load of spunk blasted from my throbbing cock.

My mother asked some silly question as I tried to feign interest in the row of shirts in front of me. My hips thrust of their own accord in time with my spurts of semen, and it took quite an effort to modulate my voice into something like its normal tone. After what seemed an eternity or two, she left and I collapsed to the floor, grasping my pulsing rod and milking out the last of my load.

Of course, there was no fooling her with my standing in the doorway; a glance from her vantage point showed that she would have seen everything, even the semen splattering my clean shirts. I avoided her for the rest of the day, not so much out of shame–I wasn’t taught by my parents to hate sex–but out of an earnest desire not to have to discuss the whole matter with her.

That night, she went out [mercifully, without any heart-to-heart about my masturbation habits] and I decided to indulge in another variation on my Onanistic theme: jacking off in different rooms of the house. Eleven-thirty found me lying nude on the living room rug, pumping away until I reached my usual creamy finish. Falling into that post- orgasmic stupor, I carelessly drifted off to sleep.

I awoke to the sight of my mother entering the living room from the hallway; she had managed to get into the house and past my semed- spattered body without waking me. I started, sitting upright and feeling my face try to go pale and flush a deep crimson at the same time.

I expected some sort of discussion at this point, but all she said was, “Mind you don’t mess up the carpet.” Then she said good night and went into her bedroom.

The next day one might think I would try to be a little more circumspect in my autoerotic activities, but the resilience of youth helped to forget the previous day’s embarassments and the afternoon found me nude again, bracing myself up on my arms as I straddled a pillow, grinding my cock into its soft bulk. A couple of issues of Penthouse lay on the bed, opened to a couple of pictorials featuring women fingering themselves [my favorite fantasy, you will recall]. I was really into it, about to crest the wave and start spewing, when the door opened again [would I EVER remember to lock that damn thing?!] and in walked the mother figure.

I couldn’t believe my bad luck. Three times in two days! Surely she must think me some sort of oversexed bizzarro by now.

I might have been able to stop my climax, had I made the effort, but my exasperation made me bold and so I pretended not to notice that she had come in and pumped my pillow to orgasm. I let out a few extra grunts as I rolled my hips in small circles against the pillow.

After a while, I lowered myself to the bed and lay there breathing softly, my softening cock bathed in its own cream, anI hazarded a look into the room. My mother had gone, quietly slipping out but leaving the door ajar, perhaps so as not to alert me with the sound of its closing.

I waited, with some apprehension, for that conversation on masturbation, how it was perfectly normal, but perhaps I was indulging a bit much…? But it never came. And, I noticed, my mother started knocking before entering my room.

Speedos

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A story from the Net

Thanks to all readers of the first four installments, especially those of you who responded with compliments, questions, and best of all, stories of your own. As I read your messages of appreciation and descriptions of similar experience, I let my imagination carry me back to the wonder and newness of early adolescence, re-experiencing the shocked and secret thrill I felt at that age whenever I got the slightest hint that I might not be the only boy with these secret sexy feelings.

In this fifth installment, I’ll answer one of the interesting questions asked by readers, and go into some more detail about how I went from being a shy, curious sixth grader to a junior high solo-sex virtuoso, and how, in the school yearbook of my dreams, I might have been listed as:

I was a very horny 12 year old. The summer after 6th grade, my mom and I went on vacation for a week in July. We stayed at a Holiday Inn near the beach. When we got there it was really busy with people checking in so I went to wait on a couch in the lobby while my mom stood in line. It took about half an hour to get our keys, during which time I had my first orgasm in a public place, one of many I would have at that hotel!

I was wearing a t-shirt and a new pair of running shorts. The shorts were red, fairly tight fitting and made of silky nylon material with an equally silky lining that gave me an erection every time I wore them. The feel reminded me of my first pair of speedos, which I had gotten about a month before.

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The Gadget Maker

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A story from the Net

The Gadget Maker

Rodney Phillips was a very rich man who had had very little success with women. Three marriages had broken down in as many years and it seemed inevitable that the same thing would happen again if he married yet a fourth time. It wasn’t that Rodney was unprepossessing or in any way undesirable to women. No the truth was that his sexual demands were of such magnitude that no woman could possibly put up with him for long. Rodney was no fool and was quick to accept the fact that marriage was a mistake for him. He had means and intelligence to devote himself to other pursuits, some of a political, some of a charitable nature. But he gave a great deal of thought also to his powerful libido. If there were not women available or ready to put up with him what was the alternative? It was inevitable that lie grew into a regular masturbator. He calculated that in the first year after the breakdown of his third marriage he masturbated at least twice daily, say a total of over seven hundred times. In the end of course it became a little repetitive and Rodney began to seek means of introducing variations into his sessions of self-abuse, to use the term current at the time. After a few weeks Rodney’s mind was concentrating on the whole question of improving his masturbation and he began to invent numerous small appliances to assist him. It wasn’t long before he realized that the kind of appliance a man used in masturbation depended on the associated fantasy. It was no use suggesting an appliance that encouraged or stimulated masochistic feelings for a man whose idea of sex was simply to force himself on women. From that point onwards Rodney began to develop appliances appropriate for different mentalities.

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