Date: Tue, 09 Mar 2004 13:58:23 -0600
From: Paul Wilson <paulwilson45@hotmail.com>
Subject: My Sander

I don't know when I started masturbating.  It was at such a young age that
it seems like I always did it.  When I was little I did it a couple of ways.
  I can remember laying on my stomach on the couch in front of the TV with
my hands in my PJs and rubbing into them until I got that great feeling.  In
bed I'd rub on the mattress or pillow.

When I was 11 I was doing little project in the garage making a wooden
sword.  When I got to the point where I was ready to sand it smooth, I
struggled to hold it still while using the electric sander.  One position I
tried was putting the handle of the sword between my legs to hold it while I
sanded the blade.  That worked well, and as I sanded, the handle slid up
toward my crotch, and suddenly made contact with my penis, which was hanging
limply down a little in my boxers.  I jumped at the sudden sensation, but
realized that it felt good.  So I did it some more.  I got a little boner
pretty quickly, and held it against the sword, and it felt better and
better.  I realized I was going to get the good feeling that way, so I
pressed harder and all of a sudden I started spasming, holding myself hard
against the sword as it vibrated from the sander.

I liked that.  I liked it a lot.  And of course I found the need to sand
that sword several more times over the next couple of days.  I finally
realized the sword was just a middleman in all this, and it was cumbersome
to hold both it and the sander in position at the same time, so I tried the
sander alone.  It was too powerful and hurt a little, so I got a good sized
terrycloth rag and covered it up, and that worked fine.  I just held the
sander to the front of my pants and had a great time of it.  I'd do that
when I knew no one would be home for long enough for me to have the privacy
I needed.  I also discovered that it felt good to do it while not wearing
underwear - the feeling of being loose in my pants helped to get me in the
mood for a good session with my sander.

When I passed through puberty and started ejaculating, I had a new problem
to deal with:  The mess.  I didn't like the mess in my pants, so I
experimented with new techniques and settled on propping the sander against
a board nailed to the workbench so I didn't have to hold it.  Then I'd put
the rag on top of it, unzip my pants and pull out my penis and hold it onto
the rag-covered sander.  That felt really good, and I found that being able
to hold myself and move my hand on my penis allowed me to be more subtle in
how I stimulated myself.  If I pushed forward and back, it would pull my
foreskin back and forth, and I found that at different stages of arousal the
best position of my foreskin varied.  Sometimes I'd keep it over the head
for a more gentle vibration, and sometimes I'd pull it back for stronger
stimulation.  I found I could make it last a lot longer by doing that, and
it felt better overall.  And when I ejaculated the rag would catch the mess,
so there was no appreciable cleanup.  I kept the rag behind a box on a shelf
in the garage.  When it got too crusty, I'd just toss it into the washing
machine.

I had a really funny experience when I was 14.  I can laugh about it now,
but sure didn't at the time.  I was in the garage having a great time with
my sander, and was very close to orgasm, when suddenly the garage door
started to open.  Mom was home!  I was just about to shoot, and was past the
point of no return.  In a panic, all I could do was stuff my penis back into
my shorts and zip up, and just as I did my orgasm let loose, and I shot
everything I had into my shorts, just as the door reached the top and my
mother was right there behind the windshield.  Unfortunately, the buildup to
orgasm when I used this technique for a good long session meant I shot
larger than normal loads, and this is what happened this time.  There was
jet after jet of copious sperm unloading into my shorts.  I tried to act as
though nothing was happening, but the look on my face must have been a
giveaway.  As my mother got out of the car, she asked if anything was wrong.
  My penis was still pulsing in aftershocks as I squeaked out, "No, the door
just startled me."

She walked into the garage with a bag of groceries and headed for the door
to the kitchen.  I pretended to be busy at the workbench, and could feel my
sperm dripping down onto my thigh.  There was a rivulet dribbling below my
shorts, and a quick glance down showed not only was it visible all the way
to my left knee, but also there was a nice wet spot that was forming on the
front of my shorts.  I quickly turned so the mess wasn't visible to my
mother as she walked by.  My face felt hot with embarrassment -- I must have
looked really strange.  The only good thing is that the shock of it all had
made my erection deflate almost instantly after I finished ejaculating, so I
wasn't sporting a tent in my pants.

My mother went on into the kitchen, and there I was, red faced, sperm
dribbling down my leg, several blobs had dribbled onto the floor, a big wet
spot was on the front of my shorts, and the garage door was wide open.  If a
friend or someone came I'd be busted, big time.  I ran to the garage door
button and closed it, then started to clean myself up.  It was tricky
because I couldn't just take my shorts off because my mother might come
back.  The best I could do was go into a corner with my rag and wipe up as
much as I could through the fly of my shorts, then sneak to my room to
finish cleaning up and to change into another pair of shorts.  Sperm was all
caked in my pubes, and I felt like I reeked of semen.  The smell was
probably not as strong as I imagined it, but I was paranoid by this time.  I
couldn't help but remember the times when I'd actually taken my pants off to
do my thing in the garage.  If I had done that this day my mother would have
gotten quite a surprise when she opened the garage door!