Summer Camp

THE PETER FILES, A CASE STUDY OF MASTURBATORY ADDICTION

Published by

The Masturbation Dependency Program

Institute for Correction of Sexual Misbehavior

Series Editor: Dr. Margaret Wilson, Registered Genital Therapist

See Peter File #01 for series introduction and index of chapters

The series "The PeterFiles" presents a longitudinal case study of masturbatory addiction in an adult male, conducted at The Institute for Correction of Sexual Misbehavior. The series is made available in order to increase the public awareness and understanding of the problem of masturbation dependency in males and especially as a resource for women in a co-dependent relationship with a habitual masturbator.

WARNING: this series involves a frank and explicit exposition of masturbatory practices and may cause sexual arousal in susceptible males. IF YOU EXPERIENCE PENILE ERECTIONS OR THE URGE TO ENGAGE IN UNSUPERVISED SEXUAL SELF-STIMULATION, WE URGE YOU TO STOP READING AT ONCE AND SEEK THE GUIDANCE OF A QUALIFIED GENITAL THERAPIST.

Peter File #03: SUMMER CAMP

(Editor’s Note: Experiences in puberty often have formative power in establishing patterns of masturbatory dependency. Peter’s spontaneous discovery of self-abuse was unfortunately confirmed by his pubertal social interactions, of which this is one example. Here we also see a connection established between urinary continence and masturbatory practices. -- Dr. Margaret Wilson, Registered Genital Therapist)

When Peter turned fourteen, his aunt announced her intention to send him to summer camp. This prospect was far from pleasing to the naturally shy and introverted youth: he dreaded the rude, forced contact with other boys of his age. He disliked their rough physical games (at which he was always the loser) and their boisterous society (from which he always felt excluded). He much preferred to keep his own company and pursue his own interests, which lately centered on his secret habit of masturbation. Since recently discovering the rapturous mystery, he was interested in little else. He looked forward to a summer of glorious indolence at home, with long uninterrupted hours to explore the frontiers of his pubescent sexuality.

But his aunt was determined, convinced that fresh air and contact with other people his age would help overcome his extreme shyness. In spite of his objections, Peter found himself at camp, hating every minute: the bad food, the rude and noisy companions, the unfamiliar surroundings. But one complaint dwarfed all others: Complete lack of privacy in the barracks-like cabins afforded no opportunity whatsoever to pursue his private pleasures. After a week at camp, the need to masturbate tormented him cruelly.

Finally one day he managed to escape the regimen of camp into the surrounding woods alone. He wandered through the dense forest until he reached a secluded sun-dappled clearing, which seemed perfect for a leisurely afternoon of self-gratification. He stood for a few moments, musing over the pleasures to come. He would begin, he decided, by relieving the pressure he felt in his bladder.

Peter unzipped his fly, reached in and freed his penis. Taking aim at a nearby tree trunk, he let forth a hissing, golden stream. It pleased him to stand thus, freely exposing his member, making water in the open air. A sudden sound froze his heart: He heard the silver laughter of a young girl. In a moment, a bush swayed, and the owner of the laughter stepped into the clearing. Peter recognized Pam, one of the other campers, a popular attractive girl about one year older than himself. In the shock of discovery, his urine continued spurting forth in flood tide. Finally he regained control of his sphincters and painfully shut off the stream. As she walked boldly up to him, Peter collected his wits and covered himself, infinitely grateful that she had not discovered him engaged in his main object.

"What are you up to, out here all by yourself, peeing in the woods?" she grinned.

"I... I was taking a walk, and... I didn't think anyone could see..."

She giggled. "Well I saw, didn't I? Do you like to do that, Peter?"

"Wh... What do you mean?"

"I mean, does it give you a kick to come out here and pee in the woods, to pull your britches down and just let go wherever you are? Do you get off to that?" She gave him a conspiratorial grin. "I do. That's what I was doing in the bushes!"

He relaxed a little at her confession: at least she had her own secret. His loins still ached with the pain of forced retention, and she noticed him shifting from one foot to the other in nervous discontent. "You

didn't finish, did you? Why don't you go ahead and finish your pee?" She made no attempt to withdraw or turn away.

"You mean... right now? With you...?"

"Yeah, I like to see boys pee. I watch my little brother all the time. Come on, I won't tell, I want to see you do it!"

The naughtiness of the idea filled him with a strange thrill. He had never "played doctor" or similar children's games, and the prospect of exposing himself to a girl excited him. In spite of his shyness, he let himself be persuaded. "Well... OK." He reached inside his fly and pulled out his penis. He made ready to complete the interrupted action, when her next demand took him by complete surprise.

"Let me hold it while you do it."

"I... I..." he stammered, both wildly excited and terrified by her offer. His tender maleness had never felt the touch of a girl's hand.

"I want to see what a boy's thing feels like when he pees." While he stood paralyzed in confusion, she brushed aside his hand and took his penis in her own fingers. Pointing him at the same unfortunate tree she said, "Go ahead, do it!"

But Peter's plumbing froze at the strangeness of the situation, and try as he might nothing happened. Pam was annoyed. "What's wrong? Nothing's coming out. Come on, make it pee!" She yanked sharply at his spigot, and Peter yelped. She ceased pulling and said, "Well then, go on. Do it."

At last the psychological dam burst, and Peter loosed his golden stream. The torrent arched several feet and crashed noisily against the bark of the tree. "Ooh, neat," Pam cried. "Look, I can aim it. See that rock? Got it!"

She played the stream about for a few seconds. Then another idea dawned. "I bet I can make it stop by squeezing your thing." At once putting her theory to test, she firmly clamped Peter's member in her fist. The strength of the grip attested to her well-known athletic prowess. The stream ebbed to a trickle and ceased.

"Ow, don't Pam! It hurts! Don't squeeze so hard!"

"Oh, all right, if you're going to be such a sissy about it." She relaxed her grip and again let his water flow freely.

Soon Peter was empty, and the last drops dribbled from the tip of his member. "Mom taught my little brother to shake himself when he drop. finished, like this." She shook his penis, throwing off the remaining "Do you do that, too?"

"Unh... yes, Pam... unh..." he stammered. She did not stop when he was clean, but continued her vigorous shaking, watching his member flop up and down.

"Oh, look what it's doing. It's getting stiff! Does it always do that when you finish peeing?" She stopped shaking it and held him by his growing erection.

"Uh... no... not usually."

"I bet it's because I'm holding it, isn't it? Does it feel good when I hold it in my hand?" She gently squeezed his organ two or three times, giggling at its trout-like leap in response.

Peter felt week in the knees. "Oh, Pam, oh... yes."

"I thought so. My boyfriend likes me to hold his thing, too. He'll do almost anything to get me to hold it. You know what he really likes? He likes me to rub it back and forth, like this." She began sliding the skin of his penis up and down. "Do you like that, too?"

Peter could barely answer in his rapture. "...mmm...yes..."

"He says it makes him feel real funny, sort of like being tickled, only better. After a while, he gets this dopey look on his face, he sort of jerks, and his thing shoots out some white stuff. I think he looks real funny when he does it."

Peter was thrusting his hips unconsciously, stretching forward into her stroking hand, softly moaning in arousal. "Is this the first time a girl has ever rubbed it for you?"

"...yes..."

"My boyfriend says some guys, he says real sissy guys, rub it themselves to make the white stuff come out. He calls it jerking off. Do you do that, Peter, do you jerk off?"

He was helpless to resist her questions as the fingers did their work. "Oh... I... sometimes... mmm"

"I thought so. The other boys think you're a sissy because you can't play games very well. I bet you jerk off a lot, don't you? I bet that's why you came out here all by yourself, to rub your thing and shoot your white stuff, didn't you?"

"I... oh... yes..."

She giggled. "You're getting that dopey look on your face. Are you gonna shoot, Peter? You want me to make you shoot your white stuff?"

"Please... Pam... please."

"All right. I'm going to aim you at that rock. See if you can hit it." Peter stiffened and thrust his hips forward as his seed burst forth. "Wow! Look at it go! It's shooting all over!" She aimed his spasming penis this way and that as he squirted his fluids in ecstasy. Quite a lot of the pearly nectar wound up on his shirt and trousers.

When she had completely drained his virility, Pam wiped a few drops off her hand with his shirt tail and made a face. "Oh ugh! You made a big mess, Peter. You better clean up before the camp director sees you. She caught one boy last year for jerking off. She spanked him good and sent him home to his folks with a note. See you later."

She disappeared, leaving him to hide the sticky evidence.

* end *