Like most guys, my fascination with porn and masturbation probably started around the age of 13, just as puberty was hitting. But this was back in the late 80’s, and kids my age couldn’t just go out and get porn. It was hard to come by. (No puns were intended in the previous sentence.) I have no idea where my first pornographic materials came from. I’m sure it was in the form of magazines, but that’s all I can remember.
I do remember that I resisted the lure of masturbation for quite a while. I thought it was “bad,” and I had a semi-formed notion that if I started I might not be able to stop – that once one has crossed that line, there’s no going back.
I should stop here to note that when I say I thought masturbation was “bad,” I’m neither making fun of myself for being silly nor am I saying that I was right and should have gone with my instinct. I’m just passing on what I thought at the time. (I’m sure future posts will talk about this at great length. The fact that I call myself an “impenitent porn lover” should indicate that I’m not trying to stop, though; I’m not one of those guys who’s trying to kick the habit.)
I remember the nervousness, the excitement, the fear, the times I started to touch myself before chickening out. I remember how amazing it was the first time I didn’t stop myself, and actually came. And I literally mean “amazing:” I was amazed how it felt. When I lost my virginity it was seedy and impersonal, it’s not something I look back on fondly, but I do look back fondly on the beginnings of my masturbatory explorations. Few orgasms these days can ever match up to those early ones. It was new and incredible (but still a little bit scary).
And I was definitely right about not stopping. I had no idea at the time that I had an addictive personality, but once I took hold of myself there was no looking back.
I’m fairly sure there was no pornography involved when I first started masturbating. Not because I remember, but because I can’t imagine where I would have gotten it. (Then again, it was to come along shortly thereafter and I can’t remember where I got that, either, so I can’t say for sure.) To this day I can remember wrapping my bed sheet around my cock and fucking the bed until I came, fueled by pre-adolescent fantasies in which I would save some girl I liked from a horrible fate and she would let me touch her boobies, or something juvenile like that. Frankly, I doubt my fantasies even involved sex for the first little while, as I was doing my best to get my bed pregnant.
As I say, I don’t remember where my first pornographic materials came from. I know that it was in the form of magazines. Very, very occasionally I’d get a chance to see a video. My best friend at the time was similarly under the thrall of pornography, and he was sometimes able to swipe a video cassette from his mom’s boyfriend’s drawer. For me that was the holy grail: magazines were all well and good, but what I really wanted was to see the videos.
Let us stop here, for a moment, and dissect that last point. There was a long period in my life when I had access to pornographic magazines but not to video cassettes. Fine. So when I was looking at those magazines, instead of thinking to myself, “I wish I was fucking her!” I’d be thinking to myself, “I wish I had a copy of the movie this picture is taken from!” If you wish to use the comments section to tell me that I’m fucked up, feel free. If you wish to simply not bother, that’s even better.
Anyway, going with an earlier post’s comments that porn has always been a very private thing for me, I didn’t really like the idea of watching with my friend. But I do recall watching Debbie Does Dishes with him, in my living room. I even remember that there’s a scene at the very beginning of the movie when she’s making breakfast for her husband (or something), completely naked (or maybe she had an apron on), and I was turned on by her walking around nude. Perhaps that doesn’t seem all that special to you but by that stage in my life I was already at a point where mere female nudity on the screen (or in a magazine) wasn’t really enough to get a “rise” out of me anymore; I needed something more.
I also remember a time when a neighbour friend of mine had been dumpster diving and found a stash of magazines that someone had thrown out. I went back to that dumpster numerous times, but never found more.
In addition to the magazines I also added pornographic novels to the mix at some point; I discovered early on that the brain plays the biggest role in sexual stimulation, and novels were great for that.
Although I can’t remember where I got them from, I know that I accumulated a small collection of magazines, and I know that they were fairly hard-core. They weren’t Playboys or Penthouses, they had straight-up fucking, sucking, and cumshots in them. (At the time only really hard-core magazines would have cum; Playboy and Hustler and Penthouse didn’t have it.)
At one point my mom found them and I had to get rid of them; when I eventually replaced them I got a bit smarter: I removed the covers and inserted them into the middle of a Mad Magazine (ask your parents), to hide them.
And for the life of me I still can’t remember where I was getting my magazines from.
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