Fergus MacDougal’s – First Four Stages

 

This began as an essay about the importance of Playboy magazine, to society in general and to men of my generation specifically. I think it is a worthy topic, and might interest younger men for whom Playboy is sort of tame and lame. But readers of this forum will probably enjoy the other parts of the story much more, so I will present them here.

This is yet another recounting of my sexual history, just up to the point where Playboy entered my life at age twelve. It is more structured and analytical than the account on my blog.

Stage one was that I matured physically. When I was ten years old I was still just a little boy with a little boy’s dickie. It got stiff once in a while, which was sort of puzzling, but not of any consequence. When I was eleven I realized that my penis had been growing, a gradual process but a surprise when I first noticed it. I was suddenly an adolescent, with a relatively large heavy penis hanging down, or bunched up in my jockey shorts. Periodically it would swell up and grow to shocking size, uncontrollable erections that would occur without warning. I was of course fascinated by this new phenomenon, this huge stiff thing sticking out from my skinny body. But I didn’t know what to do about it, if anything.

Stage two followed quickly. I started having intense erections every night as soon as the lights were out. I discovered that touching my penis resulted in pleasure I had never known before, something new and exciting, truly wonderful. I tickled it, squeezed it gently, rubbed the palm of my hand lightly over the knob. It took only a few nights of experimentation, hands on penis, to figure out what felt best. Being uncircumcised, all I had to do was wrap my fist around the shaft and slide my foreskin up and down. The pleasure was so intense it made my head swim and literally took my breath away. When I did this with the lights on I was astounded at how large my erection was, how hard and stiff, how tightly the skin of the knob was stretched.

Stage three was when I discovered that if I continued to play with my erect penis, if I stroked it steadily, the feelings got increasingly more intense until I just had to stop. There was some sort of threshold that I was at first afraid to cross, a level of excruciating pleasure and excitement that I didn’t know how to deal with. Over and over I would build up to that amazing level, then abruptly let go, my penis quivering. Maybe I feared that pain might come next, or that I might be damaging myself, but mostly I was just afraid of the unknown.

But I couldn’t stop myself from repeatedly building up to that crisis point, and eventually I bravely decided to find out what might happen next. So I recklessly kept on stroking. The result of course was my first orgasm, a truly life-changing experience. There were a few drops of semen produced the first time, which worried me. My second and third orgasms, which followed within a few hours, were accompanied by a lot more white stuff, forcibly ejected. I decided it was just a part of the experience and stopped worrying about it.

Stage one, the anatomical changes, probably took several months, but stage two, when I timidly explored the pleasure potential of my new toy, lasted only a few nights. It took just one day to figure out how to masturbate.

Stage four was the inevitable consequence of learning how to do something so incredibly pleasurable and rewarding – I wanted to do it again and again. I became a compulsive masturbator, as many boys that age do. It wasn’t about the simple pleasure of stroking my penis so much as the excitement and intense sensations of orgasm. I didn’t spend hours masturbating, I just went as rapidly as possible to climax. Several times every day I would find an opportunity to pull my pants down and let my penis spring up, instantly stiff. Then I would stroke it, gradually increasing the speed and intensity, not pausing until I triggered the contractions of orgasm with a few satisfying ejaculations.

I loved to feel my penis swell and stiffen in anticipation, often long before I had an opportunity to do anything about it. When I was safely in the bathroom or my bedroom I watched it straighten and stand up, fully erect within seconds, and admired it as I began to stroke. But after a few seconds I usually closed my eyes and concentrated on coaxing it towards orgasm, making subtle adjustments of grasp and tempo until I triggered inevitability. Then I opened my eyes again to admire that ultimate erection in my hand, followed immediately by sudden spurts of semen and the euphoric pleasure of orgasm.

There was an interesting paradox in this period of compulsive pursuit of orgasms. I was interested in girls, and aspects of female sexuality, but I didn’t associate them with what I was doing with my penis. I was profoundly uninformed about the practical aspects of sexual anatomy and function, and had never even seen photographs of an overtly sexual nature. My mind was free of fantasy and prurient images when I masturbated, it was exclusively about my penis and my compulsive quest for orgasm, just a minute or two of intense sexual excitement, my mind empty of all else.

This phase lasted four or five months, masturbating to climax six to ten times a day. I calculate that I enjoyed about a thousand quick and uncomplicated orgasms.

Next I will describe how girly magazines changed my masturbational behavior and became a new obsession.