NaMaMo: Day 10


If you’re like many of us, you’ve probably heard the horrors of masturbation, a hundred times over:

You’ll go blind.
You’ll get hair on your palms.
Good girls don’t do that.
God is watching.
Ceiling cat is watching.

And on and on.

Today’s optional prompt? What were you taught about masturbation? Was it good or bad? How did it affect you? Did you carry guilt with you, but do it anyway? Did you not do it? Did you turn your something naughty into something naughtier by defying the odds (and the gods)?

Going blind, stroke by stroke!


“If God had intended us not to masturbate, He would have made our arms shorter.” ~George Carlin


About Shanna Germain

Writer. Editor. Game Designer. Leximaven. Geek.
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2 Responses to NaMaMo: Day 10

  1. Mat Twassel says:

    Close Shave

    Bradley was just about to lather his face when Peg slid open the shower door and steam filled the room. “Hey, how am I supposed to shave with the mirror all fogged over?” Brad said, the shaving cream can in his hand, a smile on his face.

    “Hand me that towel, would’ya,” Peg said.

    “I can do better than that. I can dry you,” Brad offered.

    “Mmmm,” Peg answered.

    Brad had to kneel to get at some of the tricky spots.

    “Mmmm,” Peg said again, “keep rubbing like that and I’ll be wetter than when I started.

    Brad chuckled. He caressed Peg’s belly button with his scratchy chin while continuing to work the towel between her legs.

    “That reminds me,” Peg said, “you might need to have another talk with Jeff.”

    “Talk?” Brad said.

    “The other day I noticed some stains in his underwear. Semen stains. And on his sheets. I think he’s starting to masturbate.”

    “How come I always have to do the talks?” Jeff grumbled. “I just talked to him about sex a couple of weeks ago. Anyway he’s twelve years old. That’s about the right age for it.”

    “It was a couple of months ago, and did you talk about masturbation?”

    Brad pretended to think.

    “I guess you didn’t,” Peg said. “The thing is, yesterday evening he was watching TV and I noticed he had his hand in his pants.”

    “He did?” Brad said.

    “Yup. And anyway, is there a right age for it? Is there a wrong age?”

    Brad shrugged. “I just meant…”

    “How old were you when you started?”

    Brad pretended to think again. “Who says I ever started?”

    Peg snorted. “Come on, big boy, fess up.”

    “Okay, I was almost twelve. I remember the first time. There was this commercial on TV—this really cute woman, smooth olive skin, pretending to shave. I thought this woman was really hot. And she had this sexy teasing voice. And she said something like ‘Is this where you’re sensitive? Poor baby.’ I loved when she said that. Her words were so smooth and creamy. I wasn’t even old enough to shave. I’d pretend sometimes, just to feel what it felt like.”

    “What happened?”

    “What do you mean?”

    Peg held Brad’s head in her hands, tilted it up so he was looking at her. “You know what I mean.” He let the towel fall to the floor.

    “She had these big eyes. Like yours. I’d think about her while lying in bed. Think about her saying, ‘Is this where you’re sensitive?’ It drove me wild. I didn’t know anything about girls back then. And even less about sex. I was touching myself without even thinking about it. And suddenly I came. It was a complete surprise. It felt like everything inside me was pouring out. The eruptions went on and on. I’d never felt anything like it. It felt so good. But at the same time, I was sure I was dying.”

    “Poor baby.” Peg’s fingers made small circles in Brad’s hair. “So what did you do?”

    “I didn’t do anything. I was paralyzed with fear and good feeling.”

    “Mmmm, that sounds about right. Then what?”

    “Eventually I cleaned myself off as best I could. The next time, which was about twenty minutes later, I made sure I had a towel.”

    “Smart boy. Did your parents ever say anything about the laundry?”

    “No. We were in the summer cottage. One of my chores was the laundry, lucky thing.”

    “Lucky thing,” Peg agreed. She patted Brad’s head. “I think I’m dry now.” She helped Brad to his feet. “Maybe we should teach Jeff to do the laundry.”

    “Yeah!” Brad said. “He’s old enough. What a good idea!”

    “But you still have to have the talk with him.”

    Brad scrunched his face to a pout.

    Peg laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get a handsome reward.”

    “What?” Brad said sullenly.

    “I’m going to shave you.”

  2. True story: Though I grew up in an environment in which attitudes toward sexuality were pretty healthy, I somehow didn’t figure out entirely how to masturbate until I was in college. I mean, jeez, I’m a guy–basic technique is usually not a challenge, right?

    I’ll let my Rock My Socks Off protagonist Jacob flesh out (ahem) the scenario–though his version has a more colorful resolution than mine did …

    ‘Do you know that I didn’t know how to masturbate properly until I was nineteen years old?’

    ‘No, I didn’t know that. I must have missed the day in school where they taught us Jacob Hastings’ masturbation history.’

    ‘Have no fear – this embarrassing gap in your education will now be rectified without further ado. As a college freshman, I did not, as I recently said, know how to masturbate properly.’

    ‘What do you mean by properly? Did your university make you take a test, or something?’

    ‘I mean that I didn’t realise that if you pulled on it long enough, you’d actually get somewhere.’

    Normandie guffawed. ‘I’m sorry, Jacob.’

    ‘Don’t be sorry. It really is funny now, and even then it wasn’t tragic. I just didn’t realise I could make myself come in waking life. I thought I needed an accommodating orifice for that.’

    ‘So you found somebody who had one or more of those.’

    ‘Yes. But she also taught me what I’d been missing as far as my solo adventures were concerned. It happened almost by chance.’

    ‘OK, now I’m having a hard time imagining how your honey might have jerked you off by chance.’

    ‘What I mean is we’d been fucking up and down for weeks. It was only because she was a little sore one night –’

    ‘By chance.’

    ‘No, by fucking. Anyway, before I knew what was happening she was pulling and stroking me so deliciously that I thought I would cream. And, in fact, I did.’

    ‘And the man and his penis lived happily ever after.’

    ‘You have to admit, it does come in handy.’

    ‘Oh, yes. Yes, it does. Come. In. Hand. Eee!’

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