Part One of a two-part series.

I first remember masturbating when I was about 7. I'm sure I was doing it before then, but that is my earliest memory of doing it. I would put my hand in my underpants and, holding my hand flat, move my soft penis up and down. The rubbing of my hand and of my penis head on my cotton underwear felt fantastic, and if I was lucky I would reach a sort-of orgasm before I got too much of an erection for my technique to work. Of course, I didn't use those words — "boner" was what my best friend and I called an erection, and orgasm was just some final, great, nameless feeling.

At that age, my best friend and I didn't masturbate together, but we did play "doctor" — Star Trek doctor, where a phaser blast meant the other had to do some surgery that always seemed to involve pulling down the patient's pants. When we were a little older, 9 or 10, we began to trade what little knowledge we had about sex, and we always masturbated while trading stories. By this time I had graduated to a more standard way of doing it, and both my friend and I would, whenever we could get away from adults, have our penises out and would stroke away. It seems like we always had erections, and his little brother would sometimes join in — it was just easier to show him how to do it than to try to hide from him all the time.

Things began to get more serious as I hit 6th grade and started, barely, to enter puberty. I remember asking my friend one night if I could look at his penis — we had seen each other naked lots of times, but I had never really looked. He agreed, if he could see the hair I had told him was coming in on my testicles. It's funny to think back on how shy we were, even though we had both seen each other's stuff before. I had suddenly become worried about the size of my penis, probably after hearing someone joking about penis size, and I was happy to see my friend and I both were about the same size. I was still worried, though, because I knew that soon I would have to shower in P.E. at school, and even though my friend and I were the same size, I knew our 3 inches was still little — because my neighbor had joked about someone having a 3-incher.

About this time, I found a book by Nancy Friday called Men in Love — it's a study of men's sexual fantasies. I learned the nuts and bolts about sex from this book and used some of the accounts as masturbation material, especially the ones written by boys close to my own age. I didn't worry quite so much about my penis size anymore, although P.E. still embarrassed me — there were some guys in the showers with huge penises, or so it seemed at the time. Mine looked tiny when it was soft, and I assumed these other boys' penises grew as much as mine when they were erect. That would have given my next-door neighbor about an 18-inch erection! I finally figured out that some don't grow as much as others, and as my pubic hair grew I became at least middle of the road in the showers: not as developed as some of the guys, but more than others. By the 9th grade, I was more or less fully developed. One boy, who was the same age as me to the day, had always liked to punch me in the arm as hard as he could. He had a similar last name, so our lockers were always next to each other in P.E. — and he stopped picking on me the first week of 9th grade, as soon as he saw me dressing down for P.E. He still had a little boy's button of a penis, with no pubic hair. He actually stared at my equipment for a couple minutes, and apparently decided that even though he could punch harder than me, my bigger penis and curly pubes meant we were equals of a sort.

All through junior high my best friend and I had been masturbating together. Sometime in the summer between 6th and 7th grade, I had my first ejaculation. I wish I could remember the exact time, but I can't — I just know that when I read a popular Judy Blume book at the end of 6th grade, I didn't have any clue what the heroine of the book was talking about when she said stuff shot out of her boyfriend's penis. But by 7th grade, I was shooting stuff myself. I do remember showing my best friend. We were hiding out in the middle of some pine trees that had been cut down, burrowed in the middle under all the branches, like a fort. No one could see us, and we were masturbating. I offered to show him how I could shoot, and then said that if he would masturbate me, I would do it to him. We were just about to start but his mom called us — and even though she had no idea where we were or what we were doing, we both pulled up our pants as fast as we could, as embarrassed as if we had been caught red-handed. That night, I masturbated to orgasm and he watched. Then I knelt in front of his bed and masturbated him until a small drop of clear semen oozed out. From that night on, we couldn't keep our hands off of each other.

Whenever we were together, one of us would start by asking how much hair the other had grown. It was such a stupid thing to ask — we saw each other at least every weekend and usually once or twice during the week. We would masturbate each other, and finally one night he agreed to suck my penis. It was the most incredible thing I had ever felt, and I didn't want him to stop, ever. I didn't do him that night, but by the next time we spent the night together, I was ready. As soon as dinner was over, we went to his room to play, and I just unbuttoned his pants and did it. After that, we would do it all the time, often doing each other at the same time, letting one person lead. "Do to me what you want me to do to you," one of us would say, and that person would mimic the other's movements — fast, slow, teeth, no teeth, where to rub with our hands. We never got caught, although we had to push a chair against the door to keep his little brother from barging in. He had seen us masturbate before, but this was a different thing altogether. We kept this up until I started 10th grade — high school — and we drifted apart.

Read Part Two.


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