I don't remember when I didn't fondle my penis. I still do, every chance I get. My first memory is of sitting in my highchair at the dining-room table with no pants on, fondling my penis. Apparently, I had wet all my pants and they were in the washer. My father was yelling at me to "Stop that." I had no idea what he was talking about, so I kept right on fondling myself. He then said that if I didn't stop, he would throw his water at me. I didn't stop, since I didn't know what he was talking about, so he threw his water at me.
I am a 67-year-old circumcised man who has been very happily married for 44 years and yet still indulges in the pleasurable pastime of masturbation.
I suppose I must have been about 10 years old when I first discovered that by playing with my penis it would stiffen and produce a delightful sensation. My elder brother had already reached puberty, and he showed me the "fist" method so that I could induce the wonderful feeling that I later learned to be an orgasm.
From my earliest memories, I knew "playing with myself" was fun. Right behind that memory is the memory of my mother telling me not to "play with myself," so never again did I do it — in front of her, anyway. No big deal was made of it, but I sensed it was not an activity for her to see again. My siblings were sisters and we all satisfied ourselves that boys and girls were different and pretty much let it go at that.