Some background

Like most people I was taught from an early age that "normal" couplings happen between a man and a woman. What little deviation from this norm that was talked about fell into a category labeled "fetish and deviant behavior". It would be years later during my first clumsy sexual experience with another person that I realized that what I had been taught was wrong. The decades of my life that I spent hating myself for what I was thinking and desiring had been foisted on me by a society who was more concerned with their discomfort of talking about sex than explaining to a child that he wasn't an evil spawn of Satan for finding Ricky Schroeder incredibly desirable.

Preceding that first sexual encounter was, of course, the discovery of masturbation. We've all heard the joke before: "only 15% of boys masturbate ... the other 85% are liars". I've never met a guy - gay, straight or other - who didn't do it. I've rarely met guys that are willing to talk about it and am hard pressed to think of a single guy who would be able to admit to a group of strangers that they enjoy the hell out of it without feeling "dirty". As a country we fired an Attorney General who dared to talk about masturbation rather than face the fact that we have a seriously fucked up attitude about sex in general.

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I couldn't tell you how young I was; suffice it to say that I had no hair growing on my body from below my eyebrows. I remember toweling off after a bath and unconsciously lingering between my legs. At first it felt as though I was scratching an itch, not a wholly unpleasant experience. But unlike an itch, the longer I rubbed the better it felt. I remember my penis getting more rigid under the towel and while it concerned me slightly it felt too good to worry about it for more than an instant. After a few minutes I threw caution to the wind (and the towel to the ground) and placed my dick between my palms. I "rolled" it between my hands faster and faster until finally...

My mind exploded with a thousand shiny lights. My body trembled as I bent over and was temporarily breathless. The rigidity left my dick as quickly as it had shown up and I was left wondering what the fuck had just happened to me.

What do you do in that situation? It's not like you can go running to your parents to ask them why the hell you have flashes of ecstasy when you manhandle your cock - it deals with your private parts that you are never supposed to talk about. Similarly, you can't ask your teachers or your friends about it. I slinked off to bed that night wondering if I had broken a part of my body. Maybe I had experienced some type of seizure or brain condition?

The morning after I found myself back in the bathroom repeating my experiment from the night before. The success I experienced from that second attempt led to my repeating my actions at virtually every moment that I could find an excuse and privacy. Repeating my actions is probably not the best way to describe it - I refined my actions and explored new ways to do it (some more successful than others).

Somewhere in my brain I made the connection between playing with my "naughty bits" and the pleasure I was experiencing with the concept of sex. I actually spent a few desperate hours worrying that I might get women pregnant by doing what I was doing. In retrospect I don't know exactly how I thought I would impregnate women or why I thought this, but it was a concern during my down times.

I finally decided that the only way I would be able to understand what was happening was to go to an unimpeachable (and completely anonymous) source. I started going to the public library whenever I had a chance to read about it. It kind of seems silly now, in the age of Google that I would have to find a book on the subject - but that was the option that I had available to me at the time. Of course, I couldn't check the book out without the Librarian finding out what I was up to (let me answer your unasked question right now - yes, of course I masturbated in the library) so I had to read the book in stages in the back portion of the reading room.

The book was called "Everything you ever wanted to know about sex (but were afraid to ask)" the author's name escapes me at the moment. This was the one and only book that I could find that addressed the issues that I was curious about. As an adult, I purchased a copy of this book and re-read it. If you have never read the book, I highly recommend it. I don't know the back story on how it came to be, but the book is written in a question and answer style with the questions being very frankly worded questions about sex and the answers being equally frank and straightforward.

What I didn't pick up on as a kid was blatantly obvious as an adult - the author is the most misogynistic, homophobic, prudish curmudgeon on the face of the planet. Although the basic information was correct, all of his answers are shaded by his beliefs. According to the book: homosexual men can never have fulfilling sexual relationships, women can never consistently achieve orgasms unless they douche regularly, and all food service employees are gay.

Back to the original point that I think I was trying to make. I realize that not everyone has the same view of sex as I do. But I don't understand why we are so hung up on it as a society. I enjoy most of the acts that I was taught to believe were "unnatural" growing up (I'm pretty sure I've done things that those teachers have never even imagined). Sex is an amazing thing, and I refuse to limit myself to a set of scripted acts.

So you will have to excuse me if I go now and masturbate with a bunch of strangers watching me on my webcam. After all, we all do it - so why not share it?

The first post

First entries in blogs are very much like first kisses, they have to be done just right in order to leave a lasting impression. This one, however is going to have to violate that rule.

There are a bunch of things that I need to get out of the way pretty quickly because I am pressed for time tonight. First off, my name isn't Colin and as you will find out if you continue reading this blog I am a great liar. I lie to people constantly about who I am and what I do because I am more interested in having sex with them than getting to know them.

In most people's eyes this probably makes me a bad person. However, I have set aside that part of my brain because I quite enjoy being this way.

I'll have to get back to you on stuff later, because I am late to my next anonymous sexual encounter.