Bike10 26.01.2015 09:17

    I was raised by my single muscle bear nudist father after he separated with my mother when I was 5 (she was domineering and hyper-jealous of my Dad, according to him, and it was my mother's decision to leave, according to Dad. She abandoned us) and I can't recall a time when Dad wasn't naked in my presence stark naked, so he set the dress code around home. My Dad slept nude and I followed his lead. He'd warn me, if any women folk (aunts -- I got plenty of female attention from Dad's sisters -- or a girlfriend of his) were planning on visiting when, we'd wear clothes. Of course, if the weather was freezing out, we'd dress appropriately in doors. Dad also volunteered as a lifeguard at the local YMCA when bathing suits were not allowed in the pool. Dad was naked at those times as well and I'd accompany him for each and every shift. So as you see we were very comfortable being naked in each other's presence. So asking him to pose for a penis portrait wasn't all that strange. Dad and I were in a hot tub and I had my camera in my back pack and just asked him if I could document the family jewels for posterity. At the time he laughed it off when I explained I wanted to keep a visual record of the family jewels. He was a confirmed nudist and had no problem posing for the photo. He got a kick out of that. This occurred years ago before he passed away. No, I don't have a pic of him boned up. Sorry.

Being caught bating by Dad

    This occurred in the late1950's and my Dad passed 40 years ago. I had discovered my Dad's stash of Playboys in the end table next to his bed around age 5 or 6. I opened the center fold to expose a sexy big busted naked woman and immediately boned up mostly because I was doing something covert along with viewing the perfectly air-brushed photo. I had discovered stroking my cock in the bathtub by myself but now I was doing something nasty all alone with this bate fuel. I saw him masturbating and how he stroke his cock earlier, so I had a proper example for imitation. Being in a tiny bate hole I never noticed my Dad walking in on me and I was embarrassed along being ashamed that I was busted snooping around in his "stuff". But rather than being angry he was quite calm and took his time to explain that every male on this planet that had a penis between his legs did the exact thing that I was doing and that it was jacking off is perfectly natural for guys to do. He took this opportunity to give me the classic "birds and bees" speech using not only his sizable uncut hairy dick as a visual aide along with mine as I followed him stroke by stroke as he explaining how our stiff dicks shot cum that created babies and he busted a nut to show me the cum that had created me. My old man was pretty fuckin' evolved. He just basically led me by example. Allowing me to bate guilt free, letting me know that jacking off was something all men do no matter what they are willing to admit.
    After that initial encounter we masturbated freely. I was raised in an unusual house hold by a single father who made sure I suffered no shame or guilt beating off. Very often, some time in a duet, sometime solo. He warned me about getting clothed when my aunts visited. If Dad had a date over, I had total freedom to remain naked and hard. Our home was a true "man's world". No shame and no limitation to sexuality. I masturbated any damn place, not bothering if my father was nearby or in front of me. When you live with nudist men we fart and bate when ever we wanted to. If I didn't want to be interrupted, I went into my room; but for some reason we'd leave each other alive and alone, if we were in our bed rooms.
    It's important for us, elders, to pass on tradition and technique of bate culture. My father taught me body pride and no shame or false modesty about boners and our natural need to beat off. After years of focusing on this gift I have been given that hangs between my thighs, terms that top my list are cock, dong, dick, but not the penis.
    Dad had a very complex relationship with my grand Dad that, what I gleaned over the years, was what lead to his openness when it came to sexuality. Dad was purely turned on by ladies with big perfectly shaped tits and facially very attractive. My penis was of no interest what so-ever for him other than I was comfortable with my naked body and erections and orgasms. He never coached me verbally or physically about bate technique. He was very verbal about the Playboy centerfolds that we would often enjoy in tandem. He would give me positive reinforcement verbally about my style and amount of cum that I'd put out. While his focus during these shared session was clearly upon the dame in the centerfold, not me. I, of course, was transfixed by his handsome boner and his skillful manipulation to orgasm. He wasn't an edger. My father never was focused on edging and never gave me some advices or examples of edging.
    I was in my late 30's when I started to learn edging. I had moved to NYC in the early 70's and discovered the NY Jacks. I was hooked on the club. I bated with a couple frequently there, they were in their 50's They invited me to a private bate party at their apartment and taught me the mysteries of edging. I had always loved to take my time in private but always found riding an edge with other bators was a challenge. They got me into facing that challenge with them and a few of their close bate buddies. They were great instructors. I am always fascinated by what knowledge I pick up from all of the Master edgers. No matter how long and how much instruction there is always one more technique that we haven't explored.
    I suppose my father was under the assumption I was straight because I was jacking of over Playboy centerfolds. I think they were the only fuel around the house and I instinctively felt that was his bate fuel and probably that was what got me hard. It was years later that I tried to work out in my mind that men turned me on rather than women like Playboy featured in their fold out. I had a few disastrous attempts to have sex with women. It only took on failed attempt to put an end to that.
    My mother was a very bitter white conservative Republican Christian so even discussing my homosexuality was totally repugnant to the woman. She felt that going to the gym was somehow a vanity thing that was going against the teachings of Jesus. Dad's nudist tenancies and exhibitionistic attitude was beyond her comprehension. Why she married him in the first place was a question I always wanted to know the answer to. She was disgusted by his uncut dick and his hairy body apparently. She ok'd my circumcision without my Dad's approval.

My first lube

    Not long after discovering the magic of masturbation I came upon the wicked thought of lubrication beyond the precum that I discharged from my piss slit and then came up with the nasty concept of spit. For some reason the mere idea of spitting on my hard boner was so erotic and wicked that dollop of warm spit drooled out of my mouth nearly made me shoot hands free. From that moment I realized I'd run dry of spittal and quickly conceived using something synthetic. I had a bottle of Coppertone suntan oil in the bathroom and Bingo I had my very first bate lube. That worked great for a long time, until a little bate buddy turned me on to baby oil which disgusted my father because of the scent. It reminded him of my shitty diapers as an infant. Dad brought home a bottle of mineral oil (the scent less basis of baby oil). I used mineral oil and then olive oil. Not until I moved to New York City and bated with an theater actor that I got turned on to Albolene that he explained that many in his profession would use Albo to remove stage make up. Albolene became my gold standard for bate and edge sessions. For a time I used olive oil because it tasted good. That makes me imagine of ancient Greece.

Boy Scout Confidential

    Our scout group did a hike in the dead of winter to some cabins in Ohio country-side with bunk 6 beds with a pot bellied stove to heat the place in the middle of the room. All we had with us were our sleeping bags and the cabin wasn't insulated but we kept the stove full of wood all night. I have no recollection of eating or drinking but I know for sure there wasn't a toilet in there so if we had to piss in the night we had to put on your boots and step outside. I just recall it was brutally cold outside. If you chose an upper bunk it was hot as fuck and the guys were in the lower bunk beds were freezing. By dawn there were a lot of boys in bed together to fend off the wicked cold. Even though nobody stripped naked a lot of us slept in our long underwear one piece (union suits). There was some jacking off for sure. Especially between me and Tom, the scout ladders kid that was a show off and couldn't get over the fact my dick was bigger than his. It was the first time ever anybody spit on my dick. Tom felt I wasn't putting out enough pre while he was jacking both of us. And I nearly nutted when I felt his spit on my young boner. I loved being in the Scouts.

Bate Olympics

    As a 13 year old bator and a few of my bate buds being so horned up in the throws of puberty, we somehow came upon the notion of using our non-stop boners for sport. Cum shooting was obvious. How far, how much, how quick we could bring it off; how strong our bones were? Size, of course, played a big part of our emerging penis sport. Soon we officially named it the dick Olympics and took great pride in our prowess we each possessed with our young hard cocks and delighted in showing off our strengths. Summertime was certainly seemed a natural time to hold the event and we'd push the season into the fall and winter using basements as our arenas. A Synchronized Masturbation event was an artistic blend of sport and sex.

Discovering a bate room mate

    My very first room mate in college was in a dorm and he had unpacked most of his stuff when I entered the room that we were assigned and after a friendly handshakeand introduction, Rusty quite frankly told me that he jacked off quite regularly and if this was going to be a problem I should see the resident floor advisor to immediately get a room change. I liked his aggressive attitude and of course at 18 yo I was quite the chronic batorI as well. I let him know I was in full compliance of his room rules. We never bated each other but became very comfortable with our living arrangement. To the point our room nearly became a masturbatorium for a few chronic bators. Unfortunately. Rusty flunked out the first quarter.

Great on straight

    I witnessed a scene on the History channel's Vikings. The Viking Norwegian earl "Ragnar" invaded England and pillaged a holy Christian church in the process he and his men killing off a small British defenders but rather than leaving with their booty Ragnar realized England had fertile soil to grow crops and farm rather than plunder. He offer to meet the ruler of this fife to work out a peaceful deal. In the scene the King grates Ragnar an audience in his private indoor heated bathing pool with no guards around to which Ragnar strips naked in front of the King and joins him in the warm water. Once submerged shoulders deep the King tells Ragnar. "Now we are equal so we can talk honestly, man to man" This sounds so familiar to what we all do.