I don't want to bore you. Jerking off has been my comfort since I was about 14, and before that, it was my wild fantasy world: a place where the anger and shouting outside my bedroom, disappeared. I had seen pictures of naked girls, like any boy I guess, and liked what I saw. At first, there was no physical arousal (that I knew of), just that satisfaction of seeing a "bare naked lady." I'd experienced random erections from as far back as I can remember. They didn't mean anything, other than discomfort and embarrassment. I also had this thing about being naked. At first, nobody bothered to tell me not to. Then, after being properly shamed for wanting to expose myself (at age 4), I found places to take my clothes off in private. There was no connection to sexuality. None. It just felt great, and it was something I wasn't supposed to do. At age 14, I was alone at my aunt and uncle's place, it was hot, and I was bored, so I took my clothes off. I got a boner, as usual, but didn't give it much thought. Then, I ejaculated. I thought that I was going to die. I was sick to my stomach, and repulsed by the gooey stuff that came out of me. I may have fainted. It was awful. But soon after that, I began chasing that feeling. Every day. Sometimes twice a day. I destroyed socks, and bed sheets, and well, it was gross. I couldn't stop. Let's fast forward. I'm 55, married to a wonderful woman, with two incredible grown children. 41 years of masturbating have been interrupted frequently by periods of: sex with my wife and abstinence from masturbation. My wife and I incorporated it into our sexual activities; me getting to finish off on her butt or boobs - sometimes, not always. I was the best of both worlds as I love her so much and absolutely cannot get enough of having sex with her, and I love to jerk off too. Then, a few years ago, the sex stopped. Growing children, emotional strain and who knows what else were to blame. Also, my penis wasn't up to the job. Literally. Those one-hour raging hard-ons I'd learned to rely upon, were gone. My wife was understanding. I wasn't. I started freaking out that I had lost my ability to do it, even though I seemed to be able to get things going with my fist. The masturbation got more frequent, and stranger. The getting off part was becoming secondary to the sensations of playing with my penis. I collected a stash of Internet porn - mostly bikini shots, but they escalated to wilder shots, of beautiful young women, with huge breasts and tight bodies. I started looking for pics of them pleasuring themselves. This led to pics of them having sex. That's where things started to get away from me. I've never been interested in men, but the fantasy world of the Internet allowed me to look at the male equivalent of the fantasy woman I was masturbating to. I found weirder and weirder stuff to look at. Started going on Jackinchat to make myself feel like it was okay - everyone is doing it. And that was when I realized that things were not good. The excitement of masturbating with another person, was always mitigated by the fact that both of us were sitting alone in front of our computers, and probably lying to each other about who and what we were. Two years ago, I hit the bottom; chatting with other men, while masturbating and looking at porn. I was disgusting to myself. I missed meetings. I was feeling depressed (for the first time in my life). I took on more work than I knew I was able to withstand, and for 117 days, that did it! I didn't look at porn. I didn't jerk off. I didn't think about it. Tits on the movie screen did nothing more than make me smile. Erotic art was simply, erotic art. I felt that I had cured myself of what ever had taken over me. I found all the stashed porn, and deleted/destroyed it. I put parental controls on our browsers. None of the usual stimulants were working on me. My work got better, and I felt great. Then on March 26th 2012, I was doing the laundry. I stripped down to my socks, and without any reason, went to our basement computer, and started looking at naked women. After four hours of masturbating, I ejaculated into a sock, and felt both relieved, and ashamed. Within weeks I was looking at hours and hours of porn pics (it's an old computer, so no video). I was jerking off constantly. This went on until early this year, when I managed to break away again for 49 days. Like the previous time, I dropped even lower, spending hours and hours looking, jacking, and finally, ejaculating into whatever I could find. Also this year, I dipped lower. I joined 2nd life, and immediately started taking on fantasy personalities (male and female), doing things I know would disgust (or at least scare) me in real life. Yesterday was the worst. I took my female avatar to a place where I could have her screwed mercilessly for hours, by two men. After nearly four hours of being lost in this fog, it occurred to me that I was masturbating, but totally flaccid, and had been so for a long long time. An article by Isaac Abel in the Atlantic today was perfectly timed. The author explained his rationale as to why Internet Porn Addiction is different from sex addiction. It gave me myriad places to corroborate his thesis. It got me to the yourbrainonporn site. It got me here. Please tell me that it's not too late. Internet porn, and chronic meaningless masturbation has to become merely some facet of my past. Permanently.