Frequent, open and free, socially acceptable masturbation… places where this is the norm are few and far between. Ah, boarding school. Those were the days. When a guy could suddenly stand up and announce he was just off for a wank, return 10 minutes later, and no one would bat an eyelid over it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not condoning boarding school in any way here, but there are certain things you learn to appreciate in life while you have them. Maybe not the parts like being made to consume jugs of water and soggy bread until you spew, or being a third former forced to fight your friend just because some senior is bored and threatening to thump you himself unless you go all out at each other. But being in an environment where there are no hangups whatsoever about masturbating… that was unique.
Recently I was telling a friend about my time at an all-boys boarding house during high school, College House (or ‘Cockers’ as it was commonly known). I was joking about some of the worst parts like the early morning runs before breakfast, archaic punishment and hierarchy systems, the fact that the place was so macho it swung right back around into “gay”… and suddenly more and more stuff was coming out of my mouth, I couldn’t stop, and practically broke down. I realised then how much I hated it without ever really telling anyone.
Almost everything as a junior was terrible, generally because you were left in the care of the prefects and a blind eye was turned to what happened. To teach us not to move or fidget during marching practice we would be made to stand at attention motionless for anything from 5-30 minutes while rugby balls were drop kicked onto us, undies were wedgied or pants were dropped, mosquitoes savaged you, or another form bull charged and tackled you. If anyone moved even a fraction, to slap a mossie, itch, or evade a senior trying to dive tackle you, everyone had to run or do press ups then start again. I remember when people spat in all the marmite containers and it took a week or two for everyone else to find out. I remember how common it was for guys to masturbate in bed and use the curtain in their cubicle to clean up, or the time some guys got annoyed at Phil and popped the roller ball out of his deodorant bottle, took turns jacking off into it, replaced the roller ball and let him use it the rest of the year. I remember waking up one night and seeing the guy I shared a cubicle with wanking out the window.
I remember Fitchett the phantom shitter, he shat in the air conditioning vent on one of the master’s cars so that when the engine heated up the smell would disperse, or when he shat in that guy’s shoe as revenge, or when he just shat out a window. I remember in the first day or two of boarding school learning the prefect’s ultimate punishment, the ‘ring kick’, where you sit on your hands and knees with your head under a desk while the prefect kicks your ring or balls from behind hard making your head jerk up and hit the desk. I remember the ‘wheel of punishment’. I remember dorm raids where people would come with pillows stuffed with shoes, and the time during one raid where Jewel was caught and tied up with school socks, beaten, and left until the master found him. I remember when porn was a form of currency. I remember if you took more than a few minutes in the shower when there was a queue, the door would be kicked in and you would be thrown out starkers. I remember catching some guys in the year ahead of us in a masturbation circle. I remember the guy who could self suck. I remember the times someone would have somehow got their hands on a porn video and there would be a commonroom full of guys watching while jacking off under their duvets, every now and then someone running to the ablutions to finish the job. I remember at the end of my third form when it came time for the traditional beating on the last night dealt out by the seventh formers, who bucked tradition and didn’t come charging in, they came the night before silently when we were asleep, woke us one at a time and made us go out to the back field quietly so no one could get away like in previous years (my cousin slept in his locker with the padlock on the inside in his year), where they gave us hell while others trashed our dorms. Oh yeah, good times.
Good. Fucken. Times. But at least it wasn’t a girl’s boarding school, seriously. I tell ya, I’ve seen some of them and they absolutely terrify me! The mental and emotional torture that goes on in those… I’d take my masturbation and ring kicks any day of the week.