Part One of a three-part series.

The first sexual thing I can remember happened at about age 9. I had left my bed, probably to get a glass of water, and on my way to the kitchen I saw that the lounge-room light was on. I went down the hall, and at the door I saw my father lying on the couch with his clothing pushed down to his knees and up to his chest. My mother was kneeling down beside the couch with my father's penis in her mouth. I watched for only 5 or 10 seconds before my mother realized I was there and sprang up, alerting my father, who also sprang up and started to adjust his clothing. He yelled at me to get back to bed, which I did as fast as I could go.

The second event took place about a year later. I think perhaps my curiosity was getting the better of me, as this time there were no lights but I still crept up the hallway to my parents' bedroom door. I don't remember if I had heard anything to attract me, but I probably did. When I reached the door I was confronted with the sight of my father and mother, covered by much bedding (it was very cold), in the throes of orgasm with my father grunting and my mother moaning and the covers thrashing about. I was fascinated with the sight and just a little scared by all the violent activity. I think I may have started to develop a voyeuristic streak in me, because I remember a few trips down the hall in the hope of seeing more of this vaguely exciting scene.

When I was around 12, in the middle of summer (it was very hot), my nocturnal trips up the hall struck the jackpot. My parents' bedroom light was on, so I walked quietly down to see what I could see. On reaching the bedroom door I saw my father and mother, totally nude, about to assume the missionary position. I could not have been more than 8 feet from the foot of the bed, so my view of the scene was totally unrestricted. My father entered my mother and began slow and steady movements that seemed to go on forever but probably did not last more than 5 or 10 minutes. The whole scene slowly became more frantic and the sounds of my father and mother more loud as his grunting and her moaning climaxed. As my father came to a rest and made movements that indicated he was about to break away from my mother, I thought I had been discovered, so I turned tail and fled back to my room. To this day I do believe my mother knew that I was there but for some reason said nothing. I remember I was sexually aroused by all I had seen, but at that age my fondling of my immature penis did not result in that rush of feeling and fluid I was to learn to love so much. From then on I made many trips up the hall but was never able to see again what would stick in my mind to this day.

Just before my 14th birthday, I went to boarding school and soon struck up a friendship with one of my classmates. His name was Doug, and during one of our conversations he asked me, "Have you had a 'wet-dream' yet?" To which I answered, "What's a 'wet-dream'?" He explained what it was, and I thought no more about it — until later in the dormitory. I dreamt again about what I had seen in my parents' bedroom that unforgettable night. I woke up with the classic wet-and-sticky PJs, but I knew what it was, so I wasn't concerned. I informed Doug the next day that I'd had a "wet-dream," and his response was I would now start "pulling myself." Sure enough, a few days later my penis began sending me messages about fondling and playing, and this over the next few minutes grew to much more urgent stroking, and eventually full masturbation. The feeling was amazing, and I think I knew then this was something I would be doing constantly all my life.

My school dormitory was a very large room with 4 rows of double bunks, 1 down each wall and 2, head to head, down the center line. Soon my masturbation sessions took on a nightly timetable, and after a short while I noticed that the metal frame of the bunks was transmitting a regular shaking rhythm from the bunk below. The boy below was obviously masturbating just the same as I was. I was curious to see if anyone else was doing it, so I checked out the bunks on each side across the aisle. There was a street light outside the dorm, so I had some light in which to observe the urgent up and down movement of all of the bunks that were lighted at the correct angle. My masturbation sessions seemed to set off the boy below me, and the same thing happened when he masturbated — it set me off, too.

The dormitory-block showers were spartan, consisting of 10 to 12 shower heads with no privacy screens. I constantly feared that my penis would stand up and disgrace me, which it did sometimes. It was common to see a teenage boy with an erection under the shower. One day one of the boys who was at the end of the line had a full erection, and he turned into the corner as if to hide it from view. After a while it became obvious he was masturbating. No one said anything about it, as we probably all felt it could have been us.

My friend Doug had discovered a trapdoor that led under the stage of the assembly hall, and he had established a hideaway with a couple of blankets, candles, and "nudist" magazines. Porno mags were not available in Australia then. We often went down there for a regular masturbatory heaven, totally private, and learned much about how to satisfy that wonderful thing between our legs. The activities were not homosexual, but we tried mutual masturbation and found that attending to our own needs was best. Watching each other was good fun, though.

One weekend a few of the boarders went for a walk in the bush outside of town, and at a clearing we had a rest. We were in a generally circular group, and the conversation turned to sex in general and masturbation in particular. Someone suggested a race to see who could ejaculate first, so I had my first and only "circle jerk." This only went to confirm that masturbation was universal and the rumors of blindness were rubbish — that would mean all the men in the world would have been walking around with white canes.

Go to Part Two.


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