This is my real history
I remember my first erection, retrospectively of course. I don’t recall my age, but I was, I believe, not yet 8. I was visiting Grandmother for a week and was occupying my days with the neighborhood kids my age (2 girls, go figure). We were playing in the heavy bushes cascading down a slope next to the neighbor’s property. The terrain made a naturally concealed shelter from all but the most observant pedestrians and none of the low volume country vehicle traffic.
While exploring the bushes we somehow wound up naked and were playing with each other’s genitalia. It was naughty to see a naked girl. I was yelled at for walking in on Mom when she was changing so there was something wrong here, although I didn’t understand exactly what: only that it had to do with seeing a naked girl. This added another level of heightened excitement. Given the expected reaction to the mutual manipulation, I had an erection. As a natural association to being naked and for lack of anything better, we decided to pee on each other since it too was a “private”, therefore secret, thing that no one was supposed to see. This was, by default, wrong which compounded the intensity of the experience. I had no clue what to do with that little rock hard body part, but it was there and I vividly recall the total absorption to that area and yearning for more. Something was missing. After the event, I remembered the excitement of the arousal birthed that day. I wanted to recreate it, to finish it, but I needed an agreeable female partner. Actually any partner would do, but it seemed as though the woman had the key, but to what I had no clue. So I read Wonder Woman comics (or any other comic with prominent female characters), paying attention to her butt, crotch and breasts since twhat was what everybody was so set against my observing.
I would make up fantasies about her capturing me sitting on my face and making me kiss her anus since that was another anatomical “no-no”. After all, I didn’t want to do something wrong, but I wanted the excitement and whatever else I was missing. So I had her forcing me to do things to her “taboo” features. I was at a loss for my own stimulation since one was not supposed to “play” with one’s self so it was the heroine’s roll to punish my taboo parts. I was often aroused, but clueless as to what to do with it.
I actually played at abusing myself, as only a pre-adolescent can. I fantasized that I was captured, tied (I was a naughty boy after all) and my taboo parts lowered onto a pot of boiling water. The first thing I actually did was fill a 16 oz tin cup with water as hot as I could tolerate with my finger, placed it over a towel on the floor and lowered my scrotum therein. At first touch I winced at the intense sting and forced myself down until I had a raging erection sticking up and the hot water splashing up and out against my anus making me gasp.
That wasn’t enough. I refilled and replaced the cup, repositioned myself to lower my pencil-stub erection into the steaming water, fantasizing all the while of wonder woman hoisting my shoulders and feet; hands tied in back; all my weight supported by the biting edge of the cup. I actually managed to lift my legs off the floor, supporting my torso by my fingertips and the hot cup. The intense sting of the near-scalding water and the sharp bite of the tin cup supporting my slim weight coupled with the eyes-closed fantasy of being tortured by a beautiful woman in a kind of corset and panty thing pushed me over the top. I ejaculated under the intense stimulation, toppling to the floor twitching in the warm water, a thin stream of cloudy (not white, no sperm yet ) seamen now soaking into the towel.
That was my first orgasmza.
I had no idea about relationships or any true knowledge of what sexual reproduction was all about, nor had I realized how the conditions of my first sexual release experiance would ultimately shape my need to eroticly experience extremes of sensation. All I knew was that men were always trying to get into women’s pants so that was what I focused on – all the taboo parts off the body. I was clueless, but not without imagination. One thing I noticed was that underclothes were almost as naughty to observe as body parts. I began surreptitiously watching for glimpses of women’s underwear. It was a glorious time to observe these things, the early 60’s, because there was an incredible amount of variation and an immensity of trappings needed by women. There were the stockmings, the panties, garters, corsets, braziers, girdles, panty girdles, with a wealth of combinations therein. I began perusing the Sears catalog under women’s apparel.
I also started playing with women’s underwear. I would sort through the dirty hamper for Mom’s panties and slip them on. My little prick would stiffen against the material. I was especially pleased when she would leave a panty girdle or any heavy foundation-wear since feeling of greater restriction added more effect to the fantasies I was developing as my explorations matured.
My preadolescent imagination flourished richly and vividly without bound. They nearly always included spankings or anus kissing as punishment for seeing something naughty, (I didn’t know what else to do with it).
I would go upstairs at Grandmother’s cottage into a closet area with some of her underwear, place it over my head and devise ways to torment my penis. I often resorted to a tin cup of hot water. If it worked once, it would work again. That was a frequent pastime.
I also had naughty epeisodes with our next door neighbor’s girls. Given my initial foray into arousal, it isn’t surprising the direction they went. Sandy was the oldest, about 16, and when I was about 12 years old she got pregnant and had to go away for a while. Cathy was 2 years her junior. They would close me in the outside shed, make me pull my pants down and play with myself. They could watch through the windows in the doors. They would also “play doctor” and make me shed my pants for manual medical observation poking stiff crabgrass pieces into my urethra and sticks into my anus. Never did I ever even consider refusing them their demands. It was exciting and, looking back, isn’t surprising since I was fundamentally submissive.
Just before I became aware enough to be side tracked by girls, I had a somewhat homosexual episode with my cousin. I was staying overnight as we did several times a summer to spend time playing with family and getting out of mother’s hair for a few days. There were already three kids in the low income apartment in which they lived so I shared a bed with my oldest cousin. We were talking about naughty things, like the time I peed on the little girls, and fondling each other’s hard little pricks and probing each other’s anuses. It felt good and I started licking and kissing his hard penis. He readily reciprocated. It felt good but not enough. We had no real idea what we were doing. As neither of us yet had the “parental talk”, we speculated on what the process and unspoken functions of those taboo areas really were. I don’t really recall whose idea it was but we both agreed that pricks must go in butts. We agreed that it felt pleasant and naughty for someone else to play with our hard pricks and finger our puckered little holes and we really didn’t grasp the association of difference in sexes to the pleasant feelings so we decided to try to poke my prick into his butt. We positioned ourselves, I was trying to get in and he was pushing his but against me trying to achieve entry. I had just gotten my glans past the initial resistance of his anal ring when we heard my uncle coming up the stairs. We quickly separated and tried to look like we were asleep as he opened the door to check on us before bed. That was the end of that, but it, none the less, is one of my early experiences.
Hormones created an entirely different game which must wait until I’ve sufficient nerve to continue.