Typical Day

Ah, to have the great outdoors again.

The July air is heavy with the sickeningly sweet fragrance of honeysuckle growing along the sides of the path. I delight in chasing and disrupting the dust devils as they prance across the newly plowed fields. Rivulets of sweat trace lines down my dust covered legs and bare feet. Even the birds have stopped their singing and sought shelter from the heat in some shady place. I run down the path toward the small stream, which meanders through the woods from springs back in the hills.

Looking around to make sure I am alone I remove my ragged cut-off overalls and toss them over a branch at the streams edge, rinse the dust from my legs and splash water over my chest and thighs. The water is surprisingly cold and my member withdraws into my body. 

As the sun warms me my cock blossoms to its freestanding state once again. I revel in the freedom of running through the forest free of encumbrances with my erect penis slapping against my stomach with each stride. I wind my way through the thicket at the edge of the stream and up the hill to one of my private spots comprised of large outcroppings of limestone surrounded by a ring of small pine trees.

The smooth stone is warm against my bare skin as I lie down and watch the parade of clouds drifting by bringing brief moments of shade in their passing. I run my palms over my chest and nipples and down to my stomach lightly brushing the end of my penis, which responds by lifting off my stomach in anticipation of the imminent attention to which it has become accustomed.

I trace the underside of the shaft with the tips of my fingers and fondle my testicles hanging loosely in the heat of the noonday sun. Beginning at the base I wrap two fingers and my thumb around it slowly drawing the loose skin up toward the head and down again with increasing frequency until I feel the urge beginning to peak and then slow down until it subsides. I have become very good at pushing just to the edge and then backing off thereby maintaining a high level of arousal for even several hours.

But today, I slip beyond the brink on the third cycle of stroking and relaxing. As the delicious sensations begin at the tips of my fingers and toes and rush through my body coming to a focus in the pit of my stomach I pump faster and faster until streams of pearly fluid surge in several quick spurts onto my stomach and chest. Every muscle in my body is tensed as my back arches and my hips thrust involuntarily skyward until the last spasm subsides and the flow diminishes to a few glistening drops which roll off my stomach onto the limestone.

As the passion subsides I begin to feel the familiar twinges of guilt that took years to overcome after being bombarded all my life with dire warnings of the consequences of the "sins of the flesh". I learned early on that touching myself "there" was not acceptable behavior... There were  moments in life that become indelibly etched into one's memory along with other seemingly insignificant occurrences that can affect our lives forever.

Later, I understood exactly what was happening with my erections and masturbation fumblings, but since there seemed to be no adverse effects and the pleasure was so extreme that, I routinely indulged three to eight times a day always being alert for any opportunity to engage in my hobby.

Most of this time I didn't know if I was the only person to engage in the activity since no one ever talked about it, at least not in my presence. It was a tremendous relief when I came across a magazine article at the library which stated that it was natural and normal and there were no physical dangers inherent in the practice (other than blisters!). I was further relieved to read that it was impossible to do it too much.

I still didn't talk about it with anyone though and the knowledge had little effect on the need for or the frequency of my self-pleasuring but most of the feelings of guilt went away and I finally realized that I wasn't a bad person.