DIY: A personal history of wanking
Judging by the breathtaking number of 'personal sex toys' on the market, pretty much every female of a certain age is wanking themselves into a frenzy 7 days a week. Not me, I like to give myself weekends off. So what is masturbation, to give it it's grown up name and what is it's place in the modern adults life?
The early years
If like me, you can’t remember life before you found the good stuff, you’ll probably agree that it wasn’t ever about sex or arousal. In fact an esteemed head doctor i know says that masturbation when very young is usually about harmless bodily exploration or a way of comforting ourselves during scary times.
Not sure that dildos or vibrators were even invented during my teenage years and even if they had been I had no chance of getting my hands on one anyway.
Masturbation at this age was still very much about exploration, with the odd focus on a sexy teacher or someone in ‘Dynasty’. It didn’t stop me devoting as much time to it as I did my A-levels though.
By adulthood I’d cast aside my favourite hairbrush handle in pursuit of something far more interesting. And, like all perfectionists I was determined to practice until perfect.
I loved doing it and I loved watching my ex do it. I even shared a few fantasies with her, after all we were sophisticated women of the world, what could go wrong with that?
Quite a lot as it happened. In fact such was her disapproval of my ‘material’ I found myself feeling an unfamiliar sensation. Shame.
For several years wanking became more of a chore than a pleasure as I spent my time trying to banish some of the more controversial thoughts from my mind. Thinking about anyone else was definitely categorised as ‘cheating’. What should have been harmless fun started to feel like a test.
It obviously didn’t work out, and I suspect my fantasies had done little to help an already very insecure relationship.
So thank the lord that wasn’t how my wife operated. She wouldn’t care if I thought about the Newcastle Utd squad during my ‘alone time’. And between her and my head doctor friend I’ve realised that my fantasies are exactly that, mine. I won’t feel bad if a woman at work enters my head or if I decide that tonight’s all about men with big cocks.
This is probably the only thing in my life that is purely about me, and what I want or need. No consequences, no explanations needed.
Me and masturbation, friends through good times and bad.