The art of masturbation

As it turns out, I was a late-boomer in the art of masturbation. In other words, I learnt to masturbate well into my late teens, and already here in New York when the Holy Spirit descended upon me in that forsaken bathroom where I had met only failure in so many other sessions at it. I knew about that self-indulgent ritual for years because it was openly discussed among my peers. But somehow I didn’t quite grasp –yes, that’s it –the mechanics of it although I already had a idea of it. So, whenever the subject came up, I would make stories about my own experience on the matter just to fit in. This, however, could have proved devastating for me as the acquisition of sexual favors at such a tender age is out of our realm of possibilities. I remember vividly when I bought my first porno magazine, my trembling knees, the impugn smile of the vender as he handed over causing me a sensation of guilt and disgust with myself. But still a more powerful emotion compelled to acquire the poorly visual black-and-white text. In fact, I even remember the story undergone by the protagonists involved: an affair between a woman and her boss. I explicitly recall that their sexual encounter was disrupted by a third party and they had to wait until the next working day. When the final encounter ensues, the man tells her that he had stroked his penis all night long thinking of her. I was so horny then but since I couldn’t have the satisfaction of release due to my inadequacy on the matter, I decided to climb the wall that separated my back patio from the neighbor’s where a simpleton friendly girl lived to see if I spotted her. The intention was to have sex with her, of course. My method of persuasion was to plainly ask her if she wanted to play mom and daddy. Luckily, she was no where to be seen. I was around fourteen at the time.
I had two sisters and our apartment back in the main land was almost frequented daily by girls, my sister’s little friends. I must admit that not being able to masturbate afforded me the opportunity of engaging the opposite sex with virility quite usual for a kid of that age. Blissfully, girls were never the ogres of our fantasies as my friends would have me believed.
Since I started to enjoy the self-induced pleasure of masturbation so late in my life, I think I may have compensated for all of the time spent without it.