I was in high school from September 1979 through June 1983.  In those
years, the time of day during which I would masturbate would vary, but
it would be most often right before bed, upon waking up in the
morning, and after coming home from school.  I tried to be fully naked
as much as possible, and that was certainly true of my early weekday
morning sessions when I would often masturbate lying down in my large
shower.  But, I was always under the possibility of having my parents
walk in on me, so I often had some kind of clothing half-on in case I
needed to make a quick cover-up (especially when in my usual,
preferred spot on my bed).  If my parents were gone at night, I would
sometimes masturbate on the living room couch or lay a blanket in
front of our television set — this was when I could watch erotic or
downright “adult” movies on a movie channel that was available via
microwave where I lived at the time.  In those years, I would
masturbate at least once a day, but it was usually at least two to
three because I was full of hormones, almost constantly erect, and had
no other regular type of sexual contact.  However, there were also
many days that I masturbated up to seven times — especially on
weekends when my parents were out running errands.

I began college in September 1983 and dropped out in January 1986.
These years were more difficult for me as I was almost always in the
position of having roommates.  In the first small dorm room that I was
stuck in, I could only get in one session late at night as my roommate
was sleeping mere feet away from me.  Under my covers, I would very
quietly pull down the sweatpants I would sleep in and, as quietly as
possible, squeeze my penis (using my fingers in kind of a ripple
motion) until I could ejaculate.  Later, that roomie dropped out and I
was able to be a bit more free in my activities since he was not replaced.

In my second year, I moved to a more apartment-like dorm, but still
started off with somebody sleeping in the same room as me.  So, it was
back to the not-as-satisfying but still functional “quiet squeezing”
method.  That roomie moved out as well and I again got a little more
freedom at night.  Yet, with all of these other people around, I
usually only got in one session per night unless I could afford to go
to one of the local adult video arcades (a story I will be describing
in detail on my blog in the near future).

I spent the very end of my time in college at a small house where I
yet again had somebody sleeping in the same bedroom as me.  But, as I
lost interest in school, I was able to occasionally be more active and
free, especially as the other people in the house went out to work or
to other local colleges.

Overall, it was not a most favorite time in my masturbation and porn
collecting career because I had to go through great lengths to keep my
“hobbies” away from those who would have made my life miserable had
they discovered my porn stash or seen me pleasing myself.  On the
other hand, those years did result in some very strong and exciting
memories, and I’m sure that the “danger” of being discovered (plus
feeling the freedom of my independence from my parents after 18 years
of “captivity”) adds on to that.

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What is this,  a sociology quiz.    Perhaps I should wear a hat.    I always liked cock. I always liked guys.  Well, I always liked girls too.  I had a gf  freshman year high school, and again when I was a junior and senior.  I still got a woman who keeps trying to chase me down for high school class reunions who I don’t recall spending much time with , but apparentally she keeps getting my address from one of my bros.    Sheesh.   I wasn’t allowed to date.  Well, actually I could date.  I couldn’t use the family car and the time that I was expected home was ridiculous, and my curfew seldom matched when I might think about double dating  w/ a friend who could access a car.   Pick a parent, any parent on this one,  and you know how it is.   It was the guys though, that gave me a hard on, to watch the nuances as their pubic hair grew more over the summer, as some of them developed (treasure trails) and fur around their belly
 buttons as we changed grades together;    and as we enter fall ,  to anticipate and hold my breath as we each change into our gym shorts the first days of fall classes–   this was like new years and the 4th of july,  and my eyes held the cracker jack supprise inside my head.      It was my own secret.  Never to discuss and never ever stare direct at your friends in the locker room or showers.    By the time I entered high school way back in 1962 I was well practiced at masturbation and had even more perfected the art of stealth,  and then sneaking away to be alone.  I was perpetually horny.   The first two years of high school,  we lived in a small community in the northern lakes area and both parents taught school at the next town beyond.  If I was lucky,  and one of them wanted to go early, we could get a ride and get dropped off as much as an hour before school, otherwise it was wait on a cold driveway in the winter for
 the bus.   When I would get there early,  I would go to the john and jack off.   I started this routine in jr high actually.    In high school, after while I heard foot steps in the hallway as others arrived.   I discovered and went to the boys locker room, where no one was at that hour and sat in there and masturbated.   We were issued wire baskets for lockers to hold our shorts/ tshirts/ jox straps and tennis shoes.   We all pretty much had standard issue wide baggy leg white shorts.  This one guy had softer cotton shorts and they had taper legs.  He also had a big cock and filled his jox out nicely too.  I fished around in his gym basket once and hauled out his shorts and took off my clothes and tried his on.  Admired myself in the mirror.  Another day I hauled out his jox strap, its elastic pouch had nicely formed the size and shape of his cock and balls.  Fool that I was, I don’t recall sniffing it, I must have.  Don’t
 recall examining it for stray pubes either.   Damn, that I can’t recall.   I must have.   Mebbe not.  I was young.   Today I would wear it across my face;  at that time I put it on and expected my dick to fill out like his, my penis pointed strait out is all , didn’t look the same, and still didn’t even fully stretch his basket, and I thought I had a good enough size cock.   He had a smooth dimply hairy butt too, mines was more acne pimply, a course of shame at the time and surely an act of displeasure from god to show the world  that I masturbated.   I figured out by freshman year I wasn’t the only one who was marked by god,   but still wasn’t too sure about the rest of the guys.   Locker rooms have a decidedly delicious smell of guys sweat that never goes away.  We were required to empty out our lockers at Christmas holiday break and presumably that is the only time things got taken home for washing ( Boiled by our
 mothers, I’m sure).  So I would get nekkid and try on his gym stuff a few occasions  and jack off in front of a mirror over the sink.  Mostly a lot of times jacking off over the sink nekkid.  My clothes hung up on the hook behind the closest stall door in case someone came in.   No one ever did.  Mostly, it was where I remember morning jacks during the school week. No time at home in the am.  Weekends were different.  Summers.   We lived on a lake in the country, and there were plenty of woods and hidden places to find that made masturbating all the more fun.  Out doors.   A continuation with where we made forts and huts when we were little kids.   In the winter, it was my room or  the garage (cold but conducive sometimes for privacy).  Summer nights, mebbe the back yard if it was late enough or simply behind the lilac bushes behind the garage.   Interestingly,  I never  ran across either of my brothers doing the same after
 they hit puberty.   They had to be doing the magic deed somewhere !!   
 
The summer before beginning my junior year we moved to the city and both parents accepted teaching positions at university, even though my dad only had his masters and mom had a year until she completed her phd.  They did things different then I guess.   When I hit my senior year ( fall 1965 thru 66) I was taking several accelerated classes.  Dad or mom or both would sometimes go to their offices on Saturdays and I would go along to study at the library, it held more extensive reading  and “reading”.     It was a good place to masturbate the day away.   Also that library held sex books, in the psychology section.  I didn’t dare run over to the health sciences library for more extensive “research”, since that was where my mom often studied.    Except.    The main floor john was always traffic heavy with people doing their business.  The basement men’s room had many stalls and they were always about half occupied, yet always
 seemed so quiet even with people in there.   Hmmm. .  So it was not conducive to masturbating alone.  It wasn’t until I was a junior in college that I discovered the o so very private johns on the upper floors of this library and It wasn’t until I was well into the 2nd semester freshman year of college that I understood what the penciled graffiti on the stall walls  –tap foot for bj — meant.  I took to exploring other classroom buildings until I would come across a john that was empty and then spend the rest of the morning masturbating.   I had two younger bros at home, and privacy was often an issue.  I had explored our new neighborhood , and summers daily,  I would head off to a local park and beyond that was an area no one seemed to go to and it was a great place to take off your clothes and lay in the long grass and masturbate.  It was also where I kept part of my porn stash, only a couple magazines at a time, folded in half and
 stuffed inside a bread bag and inside a smaller size coffee can and then pushed into a tree trunk hollow.   One time the mags got wet and I was letting them dry in the sun as best they could otherwise the pages were totally glued together, just like normal, except I hadn’t had the fun of sticking the pages.   This older guy( probably nearly 30 !!) in Sunday best dress pants and a white shirt and tie came up on me laying there nekkid in the grass stroking my cock.   I hadn’t seen him cum upon me until he was right there, and me laying down spread out on the ground !!   I grabbed my shorts on, and left my shoes and tee shirt and hauled ass on my bike and rode around awhile.   Then I thought,  I need my shoes,  I can’t go home and explain how I lost my shoes.  So I rode around the park lake and eventually snuck back to where I was.   The mags had been disturbed but everything else was how I left it.  Later, as I thought I about it
 then, and as I think about it now,  what is a guy doing dressed up and sneaking around in a half block of a tree hidden weedy patch beyond the park,   nerdy, scary, molester,  or simply horny like me.   At any rate, I didn’t go back there for a few weeks. 
 
I masturbated at home only in my room, or the bathroom.   Mostly my room, and in there, never in bed.  I learned early enough, if I didn’t want a spanking with a belt across my bare butt when I was much too old for spankings, to not to make rhythmic noises on my creaky bedsprings.   So mostly I did it standing up.  I had a half size dresser with an attached mirror on the back that would tilt forward.  I could even lay on the floor and watch myself masturbate.  Sometimes I just had to lay down to do it, rubber legs I guess.   The dresser top was perfect height for standing there paging thru my illicit porn stash too.   My absolute best time of day to masturbate, and always my horniest time,  was  right after school.  I would push my wooden desk chair-back under the door knob to keep little prying eyes out of my room and go to it until parents got home.  Then it was as much as to wait until bedtime and repeat.  Sometimes evenings got
 soooo long until bedtime.  Boy, was I a good boy about going to my room, if not exactly to bed, on time.    In the summers I satiated myself throughout the day, if that were ever possible, and have a good mosquito free wank again before bed.   
 
I don’t recall how I learned to edge.   But that is what I apparently did.  I used to just tell myself,   probably after a preceding cum,  don’t lose it too soon this time.  So I would back off.  I would do this over and over, especially when I had all the time in the world to masturbate.  And I had many many times and many hours to circle the globe with my hand. 
 
I didn’t feel my first pussy until junior year in high school.  I think I didn’t wash my hand for a week. I will always remember this.   I barely remember her name.     I remember her pussy.   I cranked off so many loads to that pussy, I am supprised I didn’t wear my penis down to a stub.   I was a virgin until 2nd semester freshman year in college, when I did in fact get my first bj.  Then I learned to give bj’s too. And hand jobs.  Lots and lots of hand jobs.  Understall.    I lost my virginity with a woman right away first week of classes sophomore year in college.       In college, I continued to live at home freshman year, and moved in with a houseful of guys sophomore year.   Fucking-A!!   freedom in a house with an seemingly revolving door and a house full of guys was an eye opener.    Sex drugs rock and roll.   Only a few women.   Occasionally I got lucky.    Plenty of 420 and beer.   I didn’t do
 so well academically that quarter.   It sure was fun.