Quitting for Lent

I did a stupid thing when I was 15. I tried to give up masturbation for lent. At church everybody in the youth group was talking about what to give up. The emphasis was on giving up something important. Okay, jacking off was just about the most important thing in my life at that time.

 I had a room of my own and a bedtime routine. I would read comic books in bed while touching and feeling my hard dick. Just lightly touch or jiggle myself until I was close to a climax due to sheer stiffness. I used washcloths to catch my sperm. As I would get closer to cumming I would force myself not to do the final strokes because I wanted the feelings (sexual sensations) to remain at their peak. Eventually I would turn out the light, put both hands under the covers, and give myself the last little strokes. I held the washcloth in place and lightly jacked while looking forward to my ejaculation, the best thing in my whole life. My nightly climaxes were the supreme moments of my existence. I would stop just at the instant before ejaculation, groove on the way I felt, and then go for broke. I shot huge slugs of cum every night, loving the way it felt when my loads shot out.

Therefore, on the spur of the moment in youth league, I told myself that jacking off was what I would give up. Fortunately we were not asked to reveal what our decision was.

Almost immediately I realized I'd made a serious mistake. I was in agony before the first night was over. I refused to touch my stiff dick. It got harder and harder, but I was determined. I woke up several times during that night, sometimes fully erect and sometimes less hard but still thick, enlarged and sensitive. Either way, I was always horny, in need of releasing the mounting pressure.

Then came Monday at school. And then another night. And then more days and more nights. I was going crazy. There was a constantly hard ridge in my pants. My mind cursed my foolish decision. I would see boys that I'd jacked with. I'd tell myself, don't think about their dicks. But it never worked. I was totally focused on the thing I couldn't do. I was steadily going crazy.

Somehow I made it to Saturday without spilling my seed, feeling like I was losing my mind. Without the structure of school I was in an even worse stressed condition than on weekdays. Maybe a nap would help. I lay down on my bed fully dressed and must have gone to sleep. Suddenly I woke up thinking I had pissed on myself. Close, but it wasn't piss. I had ejaculated while sleeping, a crappy mess inside my boxers plus a wet patch soaking through my jeans. My weakness angered me beyond belief. And I was also griped because the spontaneous emission had wasted a cumshot without letting me enjoy a climax.

That night, only about six hours since the involuntary ejaculation, I lay in bed with another humongous erection. I simply gave up. I rationalized to myself like this: My body made that cumshot, not me. The ejaculation proved that my Lenten resolution was impossible to keep.

The bedtime routine resumed that instant. I hurried to the bathroom for a washcloth. My straining erection welcomed my hand. Once again I prolonged my arousal until finally my repressed reproductive system produced the most amazing ejaculation and climax that I ever had.

Although I never gave up masturbation again, I did discover that skipping a day or two increased my pleasure enough to be worth an occasional vacation from jacking.

Ned