I remember the first time I masturbated quite clearly. It wasn’t glamorous or exciting, just a tired boy on a tuesday afternoon glued to PBS.
Antiques roadshow was on, a program I quite enjoyed watching in the boring hours between school and homework. Hidden treasures, locked away in dusty old houses for generations finally being brought into the light. How inspiring. I remember the opening item was a pair of antique flintlocks from the 18th century. The carvings in the ivory handle excited me in a way that was largely new to my experience and I felt a rise in my loins.
It wasn’t till 2 items and a request for donations later that I saw the object of my first and greatest passion. An elderly Rhode Island woman had wheeled in a chaise lounge with the help of her son. At first glance it was meeting all the criteria for an outstanding piece of furniture. The finely maintained gold upholstery had an intricate pattern of thick protruding vines running along the surface. The dimples were gentle valleys stretching the fabric inward towards the blood red mahogany backing. My eyes were drawn to a pearl inlay of wheat atop the wood ridge exposed superior, suddenly halted by thick bronze protuberances shaped like rolling waves on a New England shore at the corners.
Needless to say I was very taken aback by this wondrous artifact and felt a stiffness that couldn’t be ignored. I pictured a world where there was no divide between couch and man, one where simply touching the fabric of antique furniture would result in complete annihilation of the self. My hand slowly reached down to the crotch of my catholic school mandated shorts and kneaded.
The rest of the experience is truly a blur. It was as if the beauty of this lounge was being channeled through my being, from eyes beholding to loins vibrating.
“So what do you think this piece is worth?”
I approach the television in anticipation, preparing for when my la-z-boy lover leaves my life forever.
“It’s pretty old and easy on the eye, I’ll say $5000?”
I pull the diamond pleasure wand out of my pants and suddenly feel a surge.
“Well you’re gonna be one happy camper, I’d insure this for…”
My ears failed. A small box appeared under the smiling owner with a figure. A thick, white, viscous fluid had covered the numerals long before my mind was capable of processing their meaning. I never found out how much it went for in auction, but whatever figure it drew was far too little.
To me, it was priceless.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/4seupn/furniture_fantasy_mast