Morning Musings

30 Apr

I awoke this morning with masturbation on my mind and, no, I’m not really sure why although I suspect my bladder might have had something to do with it since it chose to wake me up with an overly full feeling.  So now I’m up and starting the morning routine as the rain was really coming down, pelting the bedroom windows and giving my bladder more reason to continue to fuck with me.  As I began to wash up, my mind was working hard to recall when I learned – or perhaps was taught – that if I played with that thing between my legs, not only would it get bigger but it sure felt good.  I dimly recall one of my friends showing me how he made his ‘ding-a-ling’ hard but I dimly remember that it was already old news to me – he wasn’t showing me anything I didn’t already know.  I can’t remember if I was six or seven but by the time I got laid for the first time a eight, I knew what that “good feeling” felt like and was amazed that one could get that good feeling by putting his ding-a-ling inside a girl’s kitty cat.

Wonders of wonders, huh?  I ejaculated for the first time when I was nine, just before I had my first taste of dick… but I can’t remember (or haven’t remembered yet) when I figured out that if I played with it enough, that baby-making stuff would come shooting out and give that still-scary feeling like I was gonna die or something.  It’s funny… I can remember shooting my stuff into boys and girls (made me kinda popular since I was doing that before my peers) but I can’t seem to remember “officially” jerking off for the first time… but I can remember spending a lot of time in the bathroom and going through a lot of toilet paper and even trying to get rid of the evidence when I’d make myself shoot all over the place lying in bed – and I totally failed at that and remember my father telling me that I had better not be doing anything with girls and get them into trouble, just as I remember laughing to myself as I thought his warning was a day late and a dollar short – kinda silly to tell me not to do something I was already doing with great glee and, oh, yeah, just not with girls.

As I returned to the bedroom and started to set up our morning medications, I was trying to remember the first time someone other than myself jerked me off and whether it was a guy or a gal that did it.  Something in the back of my head whispered that it was a girl ’cause I kinda remember the look on her face when I shot my stuff all over the place and it was all over her hand and that she wasn’t happy about it.  My mind switched from this to trying to remember when a guy did it and he wasn’t pulling on my dick to get it hard so I could stick it in him.  I can easily remember later years and getting with a few guys whose only interest was mutual masturbation, which sparked a thought of whether or not I had ever participated in a circle jerk.

I was in the kitchen after getting dressed, getting the fixings for my first cup of coffee for the day and getting Linda’s tea set up so I could get that going once she got up… and my mind was still pondering a few mysteries or blank spots  in my memory and I decided then that I was going to write about this and with the hope that by doing so, those missing things might get uncovered or shaken loose.  I said to myself, “It’s not like I don’t enjoy masturbating…” and I felt a moment of what I’d call pride to think about not having one ounce of shame about doing it; but as I sat down with my coffee and started my usual daily routine, I was a little frustrated because I couldn’t remember the first time a guy jerked me off – and I still can’t remember it even though I can’t shake the certain feeling that a some point in my early debauchery period, some guy did jerk me off and just because he could.

My mind was quick to point out that being jerked off while getting my dick sucked wasn’t quite the same, citing examples where I was with a guy who didn’t want sperm in his mouth… but I saw that as being different from any situations where jerking me off – and me doing the same for him – was the only item on the table.  It’s not like I didn’t know that men engaged in mutual masturbation as a singular activity; I’d heard of it, even saw it in progress once and even remembered that I had arrived too late on the scene to be invited… or something like that – I just remember being a spectator and not really upset about being relegated to the sidelines until the jerking was all done with and things escalated to giving blow jobs.

I started writing this and took a few moments to curse my bladder for putting this thought in my head – I’m still sure it was the culprit and I don’t care that it keeps denying any involvement.  I can remember moments where a guy wanted to play with my dick because, as he said, he wasn’t into sucking dick and then being not-so surprised when he went from pounding my pud to giving me a pretty good blow job; the old noodle, now primed with some caffeine, started to work with a purpose as I began typing, trying to figure out when a guy jerked me off for the first time and if I remember who it was… and I’m beginning to think it’s gonna take more than caffeine to find what I’m looking for, although I also have to admit that this initial event might have resided in the parts of my memory that got damaged by the stroke.

At this point, I’m just not sure; I know it had to have happened – after all, there is a first time for everything.  While fixing Linda’s tea, thoughts about all the times I had another guy’s hand on my cock and how those guys never seemed to choke my chicken the way I would, not that they did a bad job of making it feel good… except this one guy who was doing it so hard and fast I had to make him stop before I gave into the urge to punch him in the face; I remember him asking, “But ain’t that how you do it?  That’s how I do mine!”  That would explain why his junk looked like he had some permanent bruising…  Since I complained about his jack hammer technique, he decided to give me a rather nice blowjob.

I know that I’ve finished off a guy with my hand because I either got tired of sucking him, wanted to see him shoot his load, or his pre-cum told me that the real deal wasn’t going to be very tasty.  I know guys have asked me to just jerk them off… but I still can’t remember the first time a guy did me like that; it’s not really bothering me but it is bothering me because one would think I’d remember it… but it is what it is and with the way my luck tends to run, I’ll finish this, move onto something else, and then I’ll remember that first time and who did it, where it was done, the whole nine yards.  I might even be able to figure out why I woke up with this on my mind…

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Posted by on 30 April 2014 in Life, Living and Loving


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