The Luck of My Pornosexual Journey – Onania Masturbator Forum

Look back, I am still grateful for my pornosexual history.

Very early on, before my tweens, I had a close friend I shared everything with. Everything. We were a year apart and grew up with a property line defined by field sections and forests and creeks; right next door, so to speak. He was the same–we never felt any shame around each other. Nothing was taboo to us–after all at that age, everything is exploration and curiosity, mixed with some thrilling discoveries. Nobody had told us why anything was unmentionable and unquestioned and unobserved. We wanted answers.

We often spoke of “sex.” The things we were told, but even before that it was implicit in our Christian culture, we were not supposed to ask about, or was dirty, secret, and forbidden. To us this was very much the forbidden fruit. What is so important nobody will talk about it openly? Why won’t they let us watch the sex scenes? Naturally, when nobody was looking, we explored a lot. We would spend hours exploring the hundreds of acres of farmland and forests that connected our fields and woodlands. Building forts and talking about sex and other things. But often sex.

As even younger children we would tell each other dirty jokes we heard from other boys and girls at school. After telling them and laughing privately, we’d wonder what the scenario would be like. I know I was aroused by those discussions, and if I was, I know now, so was he. At some point, probably right after I found it by the secluded river bend, I told him about the two pornography magazines I had seen and the discovery I had made about sex, pussy, boobs, and cocks, anal too, and blowjobs. We had hidden our secret pornography addictions from each other until around nine or ten, but eventually I told him about the time by the river at eight. He then told me he liked it too. He would also sneak a peek at the magazines racks like I did, or quickly open a random page in Joy of Sex in the book store every time he passed it. Very similar ways of getting our budding porn addictions satisfied. He liked the Sears magazines with the big lingerie and swimsuit sections like I did. We loved porn the same way, independently.

Our conversations progressed. We both began looking forward to sleepovers and bed. Sleepovers were as often as we could during summer holidays from school–sometimes that meant several times a week at one or the other’s house. Oddly, for us, we had no trouble getting ready for bed when we were at sleepovers. We would go to bed early sometimes because we were, “Just a little bit tired already…” Horny–we were both extremely horny. It was there in quiet whispers we talked about what we like to think about–what caused us to get hard. We would discuss the sensitive areas of our penises, less than an arm span away from each other. Both of us erect and secretly playing with ourselves. What kind of body do you like? What do you think of Mrs. [Name]’s breasts? Do they make you as hard as they make me when she bends over in class? What would you do if she was here right now? Does it make you hard when your mom wears that new boob showing swimsuit too?

When we acquired porn, we immediately shared it with each other. If I had seen it so had he. We both loved finding new porn and loved to share it. We had a mutual porn cache out in the bush between our properties, sealed up in a plastic bag and hidden under a natural tent–a thickly needled pine tree. After school we would head out there to look at it and masturbate. Keeping it in our homes was a big risk a that time, so out in the wilds was safe. However, we’d sometimes borrow it for a night, passing it back and forth, but never keeping it somewhere in our houses for long. We were both too paranoid about getting caught when we were quite young. As time progressed and that little cache became a large collection, we both found ways to keep a small amount permanently in our bedrooms so we didn’t need to ever go without. Our addictions grew together at the same pace–always needing to have it handy when the urge arose again as it always did. As we intuitively always knew it would continue to even then–thus the newly proximate porn.

On sleepovers, porn supercharged our fantasy life at night once it was introduced–right from the Sears clippings onward. Among some of the porn we collected were booklets such as Penthouse’s Forum. Filled with both images and many stories. There were black and white porn books too, with scores of stories each. Black and white photos from way before even my time at that young age. Porn history and erotic stories. It set my sexual imagination on fire. It did the same with my friend. Our mutual secret masturbation sessions under the covers became ever more detailed and perverted.

We would make up stories about teachers at school we thought were hot, girls in our class and elsewhere, celebrities, and so on. Quite often the other’s mother–how she’d jerked us off, or how we spied on her in the shower and saw her boobs. My friend was obsessed with my mother’s breasts–he was the one who informed me about bra sizing and told me my mother’s were 36E(he went though our dirty laundry basket in the bathroom after she had a bath). He swore to God, which held weight between us, that he had actually seen her naked boobs once when he was seven as she was leaving my parent’s room, with a towel around her waist, hair up in another towel. He would constantly jerk off to her and that memory, he said, so maybe he was telling the truth. These were sometimes explicitly stated as made up fantasies beginning like, “I would love it if…” But sometimes we would like to make up a realistic fantasy for the other, and ourselves: where we saw some real boob or a teacher had fondled us, a girl had shown us her pussy behind the school, etc. Anything and everything, and presented as if it really happened.

“I was the last one in class. Mrs. [Teacher] told me to wait up. When the rest of class was out she pulled out a cloth and rubbed my crotch over my pants. I didn’t know I had a stain on them. It was a grass stain from recess so it wasn’t coming out. I tried to stop from getting hard but I couldn’t. I think she noticed, she must have noticed. I know she noticed because she slowed down a lot. She sort of outlined the shape of it with the cloth. Then she kept going and she leaned over to let me see her boobs. I got even harder and she went even harder and faster. She kept going until it made me shoot. The stain wasn’t out so she told me to take my pants off…”

Multi-partner class orgies with teachers and all of us fucking and sucking and cumming. Cumming in each other, on each other, with each other, for each other. Grunting and moaning as desks were pushed around from all the rampant sex we would make up. It would drive us crazy as we stayed up for hours each night, secretly edging ourselves. Eventually we’d know that it was time to orgasm secretly and turn away to blow our loads next to each other while we pretended to fall asleep. These fantasies were often much more arousing than the porn that got us going. Like, scorching hot fantasies. Some I won’t repeat!

Somewhere along the line, maybe when we were around eleven or twelve, we progressed to mutual touching. It was semi-sexual, and a new way to thrill ourselves and each other. Occasionally, though not intentionally, we’d be very exhibitionist with this form of arousal once we discovered it. I remember clearly the first time. We were walking back to his place via the partly paved road that passed by both our driveways. There aren’t many houses between us, just three actually, and all stacked within about 700 feet of each other, leaving the remaining 2.5 miles free from prying eyes. We were talking about the way we liked to hold our cocks, touch them, brush them, where the sensitive parts were and all of that. I was telling him about a motion I liked to make on the posterior of my glans, where rubbing it made a nice sensation when done a certain way. I was explaining it to him but somehow one or the other of us “needed” to be felt to transmit the location and proper motion of this nerve-dense spot. That was electric–when he made the motion I had just taught him on me, using his hand. It made me buck. Out there, between places, cocks out while we strolled, touching each other and masturbating. We realized that having our cocks out like this in the open made all of it even more arousing.

After that, we loved to get partially naked, then soon fully naked, in each other’s yards when everyone was out form home–masturbating on the trampoline while we spoke our nighttime fantasies out loud was rocket fuel. Getting to grunt and groan loudly outside where any old peeping tom might see us thrilled us both. Strolling through each other’s houses naked as we jacked off and looked at porn when everyone was away. Rewinding bikini scenes in VHS tapes and edging over and over–we’d take turns so on the rewind button so the other could get a good edge going, then switch so the other could, over and over. Shooting into and onto various household objects with each other. We were aware of getting caught and would often leap at false positives–a car coming up the driveway, a dog barking at an intruder when naked outside. We’d scurry back in, still hard as rocks and continue the escapades once our alarm passed. This led to us imagining scenarios where we were caught by someone.

“What would your mom do if she saw us doing this, do you think? What would your sister do? What if we had a sleepover with girls from school and they caught us doing this? Do you think girls do this too? What if we caught some girls who like to do this like we do. We could have so much fun!” Everything was a tool in our kit–whatever made us horny and hold back our loads the hardest when we spoke them got added into our fantasy and story times. By the time we were twelve we had to be the most deviant two boys with hundreds of miles. Total porn addicted perverts.

Am I lucky? Or is this more common than people admit?