Part One of a two-part series.

I'm writing this at the end of a 4-year relationship, one that was quite fulfilling on many levels: emotionally and spiritually as well as physically. It's amazing how sharing physical intimacy can bind people together in ways words won't describe. My partner and I enjoyed each other's bodies quite a bit — whether through full-fledged intercourse or just masturbating face-to-face, watching each other's enjoyment grow, seeing what we do to pleasure ourselves. My definition of sex is pretty wide, so everything counts — including just watching what someone else does with their hands. Being able to share something like this with someone was always one of my big desires. I'm sad it's now over.

As a child, I was always very conscious of strange feelings I could produce around my groin area. My grandparents have a house in the country, and next to their home is a big tree with a truck tire hanging from a thick old rope. I used to climb it and suspend myself there, just hanging by my hands. I've heard that a few other people had tried this, too, but it isn't very common. For me, the suspension tightened the muscles between my legs and could produce something akin to a small "o" orgasm — as opposed to an Orgasm.

I also used to play "doctor" with a neighborhood friend of mine the same age as I, and occasionally with his brother and another boy down the street. My friend and the other boy would get jealous of each other, especially when two of us went off alone to inspect each other. There was a bush across the street from our houses, and when we weren't building forts, we were lounging around naked. It was all "innocent," of course, as we were under 10 years of age; but the sex life of children is often overlooked or neglected. We would give each other erections, compare differences between my circumcised penis and their uncircumcised penises, and sometimes even put them in each other's mouths. Nothing much else happened other than that, though I'm sure if I hadn't have moved away at the age of 11, things would have progressed from there during my teen years.

The only bad thing that came out of it was the fact that someone found out and tattled on us. My friend's mother sat us down at her kitchen table and expressed her disappointment. The family belonged to a small local Christian sect, and she didn't approve of our play, saying, "You're both the same, so there's no reason to be doing this." Well, we weren't quite the same — his foreskin fascinated me, and her admonitions didn't stop us. We just became more discreet!

When my family moved out of town to lake country, my sexual contact with other boys ended. There were a couple boys down the road I became friends with, but they didn't show any interest in doing anything. I was too shy to bring it up, and I certainly wasn't encouraged when my new next-door-neighbor told me that if he "ever found out that [I] was a fag" he'd never talk to me again. I think this was a self-defense mechanism on his part — like all boys that age, gay or straight, I imagine he at least considered fooling around with a member of the same sex. Besides, all of us spent a lot of time in swimming suits and in the water during the summer, so there was a lot of opportunity for that sort of thing.

Around this time I discovered masturbation for real. My first orgasm with ejaculation came through doing chin-ups on a tree branch in the woods surrounding my new home. I often went into the forest to sunbathe in the nude, or to work out my arms (though it was the pleasurable feeling I craved). One time I was doing this and something strange happened. Not only did I get the familiar tickle feeling, but a warm, wet feeling spread through my underwear. When I let go of the branch, I caught my breath and unzipped my pants to see. Though my father had only instructed me about the birds and the bees in very detached biological terms, I immediately knew what it was — and that I wanted more. I tasted it the first time I was able to produce it, and I often do even today.

In books I had seen in the public library, I had read that boys were able to touch themselves somehow and that through rubbing up and down, they were able to make themselves experience the same thing I did while doing chin-ups — except better. Now that I knew I was able to produce the goods, I wanted to give it a try as soon as possible.

The first time I brought myself to orgasm manually, I couldn't believe the intensity of the feeling. To this day I remember how powerful it was. My whole body tightened up, and I was flooded with an incredible feeling that seemed to last forever. I was lying in my bed under my covers, and instead of gripping my penis (I figured that out only later), I just quickly rubbed the palm of my hand along the backside of my penis. When it was over, I was extremely happy. What a wonderful new thing I had discovered.

Go to Part Two.


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