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Part One of a three-part series. The first I can remember receiving pleasure from touching myself was when I was a young boy, probably around age 5 or so. Saturday and Sunday mornings were always quiet around the house, as the older people recuperated from the week, and I was allowed to lounge around in my PJs and watch cartoons in the den. Usually I was alone, and I can remember idly playing with my penis with my hand down in my pants. Unlike many of my friends who wore underwear under their PJs (a habit I could never figure out), I was loose and free, and I can remember that it felt good after being constricted in tight underwear all week. (Boys all wore "tighty whities" when I was a kid; boxers were for old men. The only time I ever saw a boy wearing boxers was in the changing room at the pool, and everyone stared at him. Turns out he had a bad rash in his crotch and the doctor told his mother to get him boxers until it went away.) I would lie on my side on the couch and watch cartoons, and just play with myself for long periods of time. I don't know what age I first got erections while doing that, but it was also pretty early — perhaps I always did. My recollection was always that I was stiff when doing it, and I realized it felt better that way. Mostly I would hold my penis between my thumb and forefinger and gently roll the head around, which felt really good. Once in a while I would stroke up and down on my penis, which also felt good, but not as good as rolling the head. I have read that many people, including some "experts," don't believe very young children can experience orgasm — that it happens only at puberty. But I can say with absolute certainty that such is not the case, as I had frequent, and excellent, orgasms from a young age. When I was 7 (I remember the age because it corresponded with the death of my friend's mother), I was doing my thing, and it kept feeling better and better, so I kept rubbing my penis more and more, and I had my first orgasm. Of course I didn't know what it was, but I did know it felt really good, and I knew I wanted to do it again. I was kind of afraid, since I didn't know what happened, and my penis felt a little sore and I felt tired for a little while. But the next day I did it again to see if it really was as good as I remembered, and it was even better, since I was looking forward to it. Of course I was hooked on doing that whenever I could. I called it "my good feeling." On some mornings I'd do it two or three times. I also discovered that I could get the same feeling by putting a cushion from the couch under my crotch and humping it, and that felt good. The problem was that I had a brother two years older, and though he didn't like to watch cartoons in the morning like I did, he would wander in once in a while, so I had to keep a good lookout if I was humping the cushion because I didn't want him to see me. But it was much easier to pull my hand out of my pants if I was doing it that way. So for years I did that, and would play with my penis almost the whole time I was watching cartoons, which was 3 or 4 hours until my mother chased me out to play. Nobody in my family ever did or said anything to lead me to believe there was anything wrong with playing with myself, but I somehow knew it was something to be done in private, and I didn't want anyone to see me doing it. I wasn't hung up or anything; I just knew it felt good and that if it felt good, there was nothing wrong with doing it, at least in private. I can also remember in first and second grade doing that in my seat during school. My teachers rotated kids around to see who might have vision or attention problems and therefore should sit in the front. I had good eyesight, so frequently I sat in the back. One day I was sitting there bored while the teacher read a story, and I put my hand in my lap. I could feel my penis, and I began to wish it were Saturday so I could rub myself. Thinking about it, I got a little boner in there, and I rubbed it gently through the fabric. It felt good, so I put my hand in my pocket and was able to grip it and rub it, and after a while I got my "good feeling." The feeling was so powerful and good that I felt lightheaded and felt like I was going to faint. I didn't do that often, but I enjoyed it when I did. That habit kicked itself when one day my second grade teacher asked me to stay in the room a minute when it was time for everyone to go to the playground. She told me it wasn't good to play with myself in public, and to please not do that again. She said she'd seen me doing it two times that week (I'd done it three!). I was really embarrassed and said I wouldn't do it again. I didn't, and she never said anything else about it. I was afraid she'd tell my mother, but as far as I know, she didn't. Sometimes on weekends I stayed over at a friend's house for a sleepover, and one morning when I was about 9, we were watching cartoons and I noticed he had put a pillow in his crotch. I could see his arm on the other side from me slide into his crotch under the pillow and make slight movements, and I could tell he was doing the same thing I always did. So I got a pillow and did the same, and we sat side by side on the couch playing with ourselves, pretending we didn't notice each other doing it. The difference was that my friend was more obvious when he had an orgasm. Though I was careful to not make any noise or outward sign (I think someone looking at me would never have noticed), he hunched down over his pillow and tensed, and let out a soft combination of a groan and an "ahhh." It was pretty obvious what had happened. We had more frequent sleepovers after that first time, and we'd masturbate side by side. We didn't do it openly until several years later. I had a hard time masturbating in bed at night. I wanted to, but I still shared a room with my brother. But by the time I was 11 he was in middle school and had to get up earlier than me, so I had a little time alone in bed in the morning during the week, and I would do it then. I longed for the weekend when I could do it for a long time, but a quick "good feeling" was better than nothing, so I did it nearly every morning before getting up for school. Go to Part Two. Go to the JackinWorld Random Biography Picker Go to the JackinWorld Biographies Index | |||
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