Like most guys, I had learned to love masturbation pretty much as soon as I started getting hard-ons. I lost my virginity and began having sex with girls at the age of sixteen but, of course, I wasn’t having tons of sex back then. Most of my sexual enjoyment was the type that was readily available: self-exploration.
I had a neighbor friend whose dad kept a huge stack of Playboy magazines behind a file cabinet in his workshop. We swiped a few from time to time and we would sneak off into the woods behind his house and admire the sultry images on the glossy pages. From time to time, I was able to sneak home with one without my friend knowing. I would lock myself in the bathroom and stroke my cock while thumbing the pages until I exploded in ecstasy…and of course, being careful not to get any cum on the pages of the magazine. After all, I didn’t want to provide any evidence that could interrupt my harmless borrowing.
I soon became an adventurous masturbator. Sure, like most guys, I would typically masturbate in the bathroom, shower, bed, and sleeping bag on camping trips or sleepovers. But I soon discovered that I liked a little bit of a controlled risk factor when I masturbated. Don’t get me wrong, I was terrified of getting caught by my super-religious parents. But the more I masturbated, the more I wanted to be adventurous. The more I sought adventure, the more I masturbated. It became a wonderfully vicious cycle of self-stimulation.
As that cycle progressed, I found myself masturbating in what some people might call strange places. While playing in the woods (we did that a lot in the 80s), I would sometimes hide behind a tree, unzip my bluejean cutoffs, and rub out a quick one. Once, I masturbated in the supply closet at my mom’s work when she sent me to get a box of something-or-other. Another time, I masturbated in the back of our family’s conversion van while we were on our way to Thanksgiving lunch at my grandparents. More than once I masturbated in the lean-to clubhouse that we had built in the woods behind my neighbor’s house. A few times, I jacked off in my car while parked in the corner of a parking lot, or at the end of a street, or at the gate to the Smithson’s hay field down the road. One time, I even managed to have solo fun in the seat of the team bus on the way back from a tournament late at night as most of my teammates slept or listened to Bon Jovi on their Walkman. How did I manage to do this without leaving a cum-stained mess, you ask? Why do you think I packed that extra pair of socks in my team bag?
My most adventurous wanking session, though, without a doubt, was at Gulf Shores, Alabama, while on a college trip with some friends. Five of us had crammed into my buddy’s Ford Bronco and headed to the beach one Saturday for a swim in the Gulf. I was kinda the “fifth wheel” in the car since each of my buddies had their girlfriends with them and I was currently nursing a recent breakup after a short-term girlfriend turned into a quick fizzle.
To say that I was in a slump was an understatement. My recent relationship had been hot and heavy at first and then the chemistry just wasn’t there anymore. We were both too busy with classes and projects that it was probably just bad timing for us. For the most part, it was a mutual breakup. But it had been a couple of weeks since I had had enough down time to have a masturbation session. This was a rare occurrence for me, since usually I was stroking my cock at least five or six times a week on a slow week.
During the three-hour ride to the beach, I was sitting in the back seat next to the driver’s side window. Next to me were my roommate and his girlfriend. Sitting in the front passenger seat was my other friend’s girlfriend, dressed in a skimpy bikini and a loose sheer white coverup that was left unbuttoned and dropped loosely off her shoulder.
As we rode toward the beach, from time to time she would adjust her bikini top, and I’ll be damned if her side boob didn’t reveal itself on more than one occasion. Her tits, from what I could tell, were beautiful full C-cups, maybe pushing a D-cup. While the sight of her left nipple peeking over at me was driving me crazy in my sex-starved state, I was actually more interested in smaller tits. Don’t get me wrong, I would easily be entranced by the sight of any set of melons. However, I have always preferred women with perky, petite boobs. B-cups are nice but I’m even more aroused by a flat A-cup or even an AA-cup. To me, small boobies ooze of sexual innocence. And a girl that is comfortable with her small tits is one of the sexiest and most confident women around. Any woman can be proud of her large chest but it takes next level confidence to love your flat chest.
So I've been sitting here for hours watching this sexy girl’s boob slip in and out of her bikini top. I wasn’t necessarily interested in her as a girlfriend or anything, but when a hormonal college guy sees boobs, he can’t help but notice their beauty, I’m not the type of guy that would violate bro code and make a move on a friend’s girl. I was simply a pile of hormones with skin in my sights. More than anything, the periodic boob glances just got me even more sexually charged up.
When we arrived at the beach, I had already spent the better part of the morning hiding my erection with my beach towel. As I climbed out of the Bronco, I was careful to keep my body turned away from my friends to hide the tent in my trunks. Soon, we made our way toward the beach. Fortunately for me, the sun-scorched sand on my feet soon helped me to lose that boner, and I was able to make my way to the beach without any more risk of embarrassment.
As we reached the cooler sand by the water, I could feel the stirring of my erection coming back. That growing reality was likely because we had walked by dozens and dozens of college girls, all who were wearing sexy bikinis and spreading Hawaiian Tropic suntan oil on their silky smooth bodies. Fuck. My soldier was quickly standing at attention again. Something had to be done before the entire beach could see my raging hard-on. The instant that we staked a claim on our spot of beachfront property, I dropped my towel and shirt and sprinted toward the surf. Not bothering to wait on the two couples, I dove into the waves and submerged my cock in the cool Gulf waters where no one would see.
With the coolness of the gulf waters calming the sizzle in my shorts, I swam around for a bit to distract myself. I needed to slow my pace before I blew my load in public… Wait a minute… maybe that was the solution. If I could relieve the sexual tension by cumming, then I wouldn’t be so hot and bothered.
As I stopped swimming, I realized that I was about fifty feet away from the nearest person. I casually surveyed my surroundings. There were hundreds of people all around. I saw people of every walk of life. I saw families enjoying building sand castles. I saw teens playing frisbee on the dunes. I saw sexy girls everywhere…no seriously, everywhere.
It dawned on me that no one was looking in my direction. I was just far enough away from the crowd that no one really noticed that I was alone in those crowded gulf waters. Instantly, my erection came to life once more. Even with the cool water shriveling my balls into my crotch, the lust within my rigid shaft was relishing the thought of what I was about to do.
I reached into the waistband of my swim trunks and found my hard cock begging for release. I gave it a few light strokes. I wasn’t as close to blowing my load as I thought. Another few strokes, this time a little faster and with purpose. Oh wow. The cool water was keeping my libido at bay…somewhat.
I looked around again and still no one was paying me any attention. Just to be discreet, I released my grip and swam a few yards down the surf, keeping my distance from the crowd. I stopped and began treading water to scan the crowd once again. Barely fifty feet away from me was a group of college girls who gathered in a clump of tubes and pool floats. Each one of them could have been a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. Then my eyes caught a raven-haired beauty that had pale skin and a tiny frame. She had a subtle gothic look, but not one of those looks that was so apparent that the nonconformity was ridiculously conforming.