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We try to ignore stereotypes, but some are based on reality, such as this one: Men really like to masturbate.

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I said this before all my stories are real and actual encounters So it all started on yet another night I was craving cock and cum hopped on Craigslist to see what I could find replied to a few adds…. Towards the edge How strong is that sensation, you just want to flood everything with your juice, can't think of anything else, just wanting to spread every fluid part of yourself over everything but no, it's up to her and…. As you may know from my other stories, I travel a lot for work.

What is my age 33
Body type: My body features is fat

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Written by: Roger.

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My first experiences with sexuality were like most boys, I expect; disted emotions and experiments starting from an early age. I remember being about eight years old and needing an enema, and after that having a love affair with that little rubber bulb filled with warm, soapy water.

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When I locked the bathroom door, I would fill the syringe with lukewarm water and insert it in my anus with the feeling of filling up my bottom and squirting it back out. Even though I knew nothing about sex, the sensation of tepid water shooting up my rectum was very appealing to me.

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Also about that time I remember my mother talking to her friend and the friend telling her that when she was a little girl and was naughty, her angry mother would pull down her panties and paddle her bottom. I pretended I was asleep, but at her description of her punishment my little weenie stood at attention.

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When I was about ten, I could not believe the stories I heard on the playground about what a father and mother had to do to make a baby. She laughed at how his butt moved.

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At twelve I can recall having an erection inside my pants while we were in the garage, and taking the same neighbor girl who was close to my age by the hand so she could feel it, how hard it was. Also, I remember the two of us playing in our walk-in closet under a blanket, and I would put my hand under her dress on top of her panties and press my fingers into the soft flesh of her little pussy, causing her to scream with delightful indignation and slap my hand.

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I must admit that whoever was the writer, I got quite an education as he read the graphic descriptions out loud. But it was at the age of thirteen in the early sixties that I was initiated into the sensuous world of masturbation. I was locked in the bathroom, sitting on the commode when I started playing with my foreskin, moving it off and then back on to the head of my erection.

It was such a beautiful feeling that it made me shiver; I repeated the motion over and over again, with the tips of my fingers grasping the foreskin like one of those claw machines you see at the mall. I could feel a warm sensation rising up my cock like the mercury in a thermometer and I backed off, letting it settle down and then started rubbing it again.

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But the last time I manipulated the foreskin, the feeling became more intense and I quickly pulled my hand away; now it was throbbing without my touching it at all, and waves of sensation were coursing down my ball sack and thighs.

Suddenly my stiff penis began erupting like a small volcano, sending what seemed like torrents of hot white lava pouring out of the opening and running down the shaft.

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For the first time my body seemed to be out of control, and I asked God not to punish me for what I had done. When it was over I was a gummy mess, and so was the toilet seat and the pants and underwear around my ankles, and my legs were weak with pleasure, the head of my penis sensitive to the touch.

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I imagine something similar happens to young girls, only without the benefit of orgasm, when they have their first period. No matter how many pamphlets they read or how many discussions they have with their mothers, the first sight of blood between their legs must be a traumatic sight for some girls, making them wonder what they did wrong.

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As with any endeavor, the longer I did it the better I got and I soon learned that by turning my hand so that the fleshy heel of my thumb was under the dark ridge of my hard-on, it would act as a cushion while I jacked it under the sensitive head, like milking a cow, only upside-down. That way I could use less or more pressure and movement to control the urge of my impending ejaculation. And when I did spurt it was a glorious experience, with the Men cream leaping out of my penis inches in the air, causing me to wonder sometimes if anyone ever died from the ecstasy of self-pleasure.

While stroking myself I would fantasize about a cute girl from school sitting next to me and unzipping my pants, pulling out my penis and rubbing it smoothly and sweetly, asking me if it felt good and if she was using the right amount of motion and firmness on it.

She masterbation be very attentive at my every story as I explained the finer points of jacking me off.

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My childish male ego also imagined that she would wipe up the cum for me and tell me how impressed she was with my ability to ejaculate.