Therapy

Submitted by William

This is the first time I’ve shared this story with anyone but if there was ever a good place to do so it’s here.

I’m a happily married man in my 50s. My wife and I married when I was 28 and she was 24. It’s probably true that it’s rare for such marriages to stand the test of time but we do indeed love each other dearly and we’ve had a wonderful 25 years together.

My upbringing was an unconventional one. I had no siblings. My mother was distant and cold and my father was an authoritarian. He was an extremely religious man.

Watching movies or listening to music was forbidden unless it was approved by my father first. I had a shelf in the living room with ten vinyl records and some VHS tapes. Mostly I listened to classical music and read books.

I didn’t have many friends, really just my neighbour Tom. Our fathers got along well and although his dad was far more relaxed about things than mine would have approved of I suppose my father needed a friend, too. I was allowed to sleep there on occasion and we could watch the TV.

I played tennis, cricket and rugby but I was always an outsider even among my peers. I didn’t understand most of what they talked about. Conversations I overheard or the ones I was reluctantly dragged into were like trying to speak in an alien language. My knowledge of pop culture was nonexistent so when they talked about music or films I didn’t know what was happening. Mostly I just nodded and agreed and hoped they would move on to someone else.

Now I know just how much young men learn from their peers and I do feel as though I was robbed of that development.

When I went to university I felt like I’d been dropped into a completely different world. I found a handful of friends who likely found me to be odd but interesting. I was intelligent and “weird” and that made me “cool”. Suddenly I had all this freedom to do as I pleased and although my father had enlisted the help of a professor he knew very well to “keep an eye on me” the man wasn’t as inclined to spy as my father had obviously hoped.

After a month of checking in on me the professor admitted that he thought my father was a distinctly disagreeable man (his precise words) and he wouldn’t be giving him any information about my time at university as long as I stayed out of serious trouble.

He also suggested that I visit a therapist he knew. He said it would likely help me navigate my time at university more easily.

This wasn’t Good Will Hunting but there are moments in that film which hit a little too close for comfort.

In hindsight it’s clear the professor knew I was quite stuck emotionally and psychologically, and that this new environment posed a number of challenges for me. At the time I just thought he was being helpful.

So I started attending therapy. I still don’t know how it was paid for, or if it was paid for at all. The man was in his 30s, a very pleasant and professional man who lived nearby. I would catch the bus to his house once a week and sit on his sofa and tell him about my life, how things were going at university and what I planned to do in the future.

We had a lot in common. He was raised by a bullying mother and absent father, enjoyed sports and played the violin extremely well. He told me he’d used music and sport as a means to escape his home life and he asked me if I perhaps did the same with studying. I hadn’t thought about it but he was probably right. He tried to engage me on topics of music and film but I was quite ignorant. We usually spent some time talking about sports and it just seemed to easily flow into me opening up about my life.

I suppose that’s exactly what therapists are good at.

A month after starting therapy he inquired about my romantic life. Everyone around me was seeing someone but I hadn’t found anyone who interested me or that I felt comfortable talking to.

Talking about sex was an extremely uncomfortable thing for me. I’d blush deep red and sweat profusely, thinking of ways to change the subject. Of course I’d picked up things here and there. My father had given me a kind of birds and bees talk but it had been limited to biology text books and misogynistic nonsense about women.

My therapist picked up on this very quickly. No doubt he could see how uncomfortable it made me and he took his time, making sure I knew there would be no judgment and that sharing information would be beneficial in the long run.

Ultimately I admitted to him that I didn’t know much, that I was a virgin, that I had wet dreams regularly and that I had never, not once, masturbated to completion.

I vaguely knew what “wanking” was. I’d overheard conversations and there was a very brief mention of it in one of the biology books my father had allowed me a day to study.

I think I’d instinctively tried something like it maybe once or twice but nothing had ever resulted.

The idea that a young man of 20 had never masturbated is an unlikely concept and most of you might think it’s impossible, but I assure you it’s true. My erections were routine, several times a day, but I would just ignore them. I’d have thoughts about sex but I’d distract myself with a book. I’d get erections in the showers with teammates and I’d seen several of them get erect too but I’d trained myself to divert my attention to something else.

I don’t think it was necessarily guilt, more a pattern of behaviour I’d gotten used to, a force of habit. Certainly if I’d known how much fun wanking was I wouldn’t have waited so long.

My therapist said he had a few ideas about how he could move me forward but he needed to speak to someone else about it first.

The following week he told me that he was putting together an instructional video for me. He said he’d needed to investigate the ethical question of giving a patient such material but that as it was intended as a means to both educate and assist me in development it was considered okay to do so. He asked if I had a TV and VHS player and I said no. I didn’t have much in my room apart from a desk and a bed.

The week after that he gave me two VHS tapes, a player and a small TV. He said I could keep them. They weren’t new but they worked. I still have the TV in my office and the VHS player is in a box of my university items the attic.

He gave me the task of watching both the tapes.

To say I was excited would be an understatement. The minute I got the heavy box back to my room I set it all up and sat on my bed, watching the first grainy moments of the VHS as a couple appeared on screen and kissed. I’m not going to relay the entire experience but it was a very good film, about an hour long, and left nothing to the imagination.

It was very creative and artistically filmed but still incredibly graphic.

I’d never seen oral sex, never read about it. I suppose I must have known it existed, but seeing a man being sucked like that was one of the more revelatory things I’d ever experienced. Watching him licking her was just as interesting. My sex education had been entirely restricted, in and out several times and that’s it, job done. The final moments of each scene were just as incredible to me, seeing the man ejaculating in slow motion with such force and such volume. I’d never experienced that myself.

My penis was so stiff and I found myself playing with it in my trousers while I watched every minute of the first tape from start to finish.

Then I played the second one. It began with a young man not unlike myself, leisurely masturbating in the shower. I watched it intently, recognizing myself in the scene but enjoying watching him gleefully masturbating until semen erupted from his penis in slow motion, flying in big arcs from his member to splash all over the tiled wall.

A moment later the scene changed to two men masturbating. One was a mustachioed man in his 40s and the other was a younger man in his 20s, both very well endowed with thick penises that they leisurely played with poking from their jeans with while they watched a naked woman dancing on a little stage.

Once again I’d never seen anything like it. I was fascinated by the prospect that two men could do this together so freely. I think my therapist had given me that film in an effort to show me that masturbation wasn’t something to be ashamed of, that everyone did it, that men can be open about it.

By the time I’d watched the two men ejaculating, again in slow motion and with impressive results, my penis was out of my trousers and I was rubbing it slowly. I grasped my member and pumped just as they were doing. I’d reached this point before several times but never progressed beyond these first stages. This time I was determined to do what these men had done and I rewound the tape to watch the two men again while they masturbated together.

I don’t know if other men remember the first time they fully climaxed but I remember it very clearly. I could feel this strange pleasure swelling up inside me while I rubbed my penis, a hot and deep sensation growing around my arse and through my cock while I watched the two men. I studied them and copied whatever I was seeing on the screen while they played with their fleshy ends or massaged their testicles hanging over their jeans. My eyes were locked on the screen, their hands sliding along their erections, openly enjoying themselves together.

I didn’t reach the end of the film before I was completely swallowed by the most incredible sensation I had ever experienced and I looked down as masses of semen flooded out of my penis and showered my trousers and shirt.

This had never happened before but now that I knew what to expect it was a blissful release that seemed to continue for 20 seconds before it was done and I was laying back on my bed panting and sopping wet.

I’d made such an incredible mess but I didn’t feel any guilt about it at all. I might have just relaxed there for ten minutes thinking about it while the tape continued to play a blank screen long after the two men had released again.

I watched it again that evening and masturbated naked on my bed. The following week I watched it again and again, both the first and second films, but mostly enjoying the two men enjoying their penises. I wanted to see if there was anything they did that I hadn’t seen already, a way they massaged their penises or caressed their testicles. It was like I was studying a puzzle.

By the time I went back to see my therapist I felt like an expert in male pleasure and I was eager to tell him all about this new adventure I was having.

You might imagine that there was something potentially improper about his inclusion of this scene on the tape, but he never gave me that impression. I would have loved the prospect of that, I admit I thought about asking him to join me and masturbate, but he never hinted once that he was inclined to move me in that direction. It was quite the opposite.

He found it all quite humorous and said he was glad that I’d been exploring this side of myself. He didn’t appreciate the questions I asked him about his masturbation. He shared a little, such as how often he masturbated (about twice a week) and how much he ejaculated (not as much as the men in the film). I asked him whether he had ever masturbated with another man and he said he had, several times while at the same university. He told me that it was rare but that some men enjoy the opportunity to share things like that between them.

We talked about homosexuality, bisexuality, solosexuality. He was quite an open-minded man and looked at it all very analytically, which I suppose helped me to form my own perceptions of it all.

All the while he was maintaining a professional distance and I think he could sense that I wanted to experience that with him. He wouldn’t have it.

I concluded that I was mostly heterosexual, but that I had a little bi-curiosity when it comes to masturbation specifically. He suggested that this was perfectly fine and totally normal, that the diversity of sexuality was relatively unknown or rarely discussed truthfully.

Eventually we moved on from the subject but we would occasionally return to it when we talked about my love life or sex in general. He would encourage me to ask someone out on a date, even if they said no it would be another little milestone passed.

I did everything he suggested. I went on a date with a couple of girls and had a good time. I started finding new friends. I began socializing properly in ways I’d never done before. I went to my first live concert, started going to the cinema and attended parties.

All the while I was enjoying my masturbation and watching those two tapes. I watched them until the tape stretched out and then one day the machine chewed up the video of the two men. I wish I could find it, it would be a nostalgic treat to enjoy it again.

I had sex for the first time a year later and it was okay. It wasn’t remarkable but it was fun and opened a new world. I had several sexual partners but soon after that I met my wife and everything changed again.

To this day I have never fully masturbated with another man. I did have a few close calls while working in London, mostly in public toilets at night when men would display themselves or admire my penis. It would usually be observational, showing off erections and masturbating in front of each other. One man tried to bend down and suck me but as soon as his lips touched my cock I fled.

Another time a man took hold of my penis and I reached out to masturbate him but as soon as I touched his member I ejaculated all over the urinal and ran. I don’t consider that a true experience. I barely felt the heat of his erection in my grip before I was finishing and letting go of it again.

I suppose I still have some hang ups but I really would enjoy having a male friend to enjoy my masturbation with in the same way those men on the tape did. That’s why I’m an avid reader of BuddyBate. I enjoy living vicariously through everyone else and reading their experiences. It makes me wonder about the experiences I could have if I sought them out.

I do have a BuddyBate t-shirt so perhaps I’ll wear it at the right time and place and find someone else who wants to just watch something and enjoy a shared experience. In the meantime I’ll carry on the way I am, enjoying my almost daily masturbation and thinking about the opportunities out there.

My therapist was the kind of mentor I needed at the right time. I wonder what kind of man I would have become if that professor hadn’t sent me to him. I know he was still working ten years ago and he’s since written several very good books. I’m wondering if one day I might open one and read about the peculiar student who had never masturbated before.

Thank you for indulging me while I shared my experience. It’s not very much like the raunchy experiences of other men but I hope some of you might take something from it. It was certainly fun to share this with you all and just writing it all down for the first time has been therapeutic for me.

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