I was thirteen the first time I masturbated

I was thirteen the first time I masturbated  
 
 
My first experiences with sexuality were like most boys, I expect; disjointed emotions and experiments starting from an early age. I do not ever remember not having erections. They popped up unexpectedly, sometimes to my mother’s embarrassment.
 
I remember being about ten years old and needing an enema, and after that having a love affair with that little rubber bulb filled with warm, soapy water. When I locked the bathroom door, I would fill the syringe with lukewarm water and insert it in my anus with the feeling of filling up my bottom and squirting it back out. Even though I knew nothing about sex, the sensation of tepid water shooting up my rectum was very appealing to me.
 
Also, about that time I remember my mother talking to her friend, and the friend telling her that when she was a little girl and was naughty, her angry mother would pull down her panties and paddle her bottom. I pretended I was asleep, but at her description of her punishment, my little weenie stood at attention.
 
When I was ten, I could not believe the stories I heard on the playground about what a father and mother had to do to make a baby. They seemed absurd at first, and I certainly could not imagine my own mom and dad doing such a thing. But it seemed more plausible when the neighbor girl described how her female cousin had been babysitting her and had put her to bed upstairs. She had sneaked partway down the stairs to see her cousin leaning against the living room wall with her panties down, and she was fully dressed boyfriend against her, putting his “thing” (as the neighbor girl called it) in her. She laughed at how his butt moved. I laughed too but felt my own “thing” pressing against the cotton of my briefs.
 
At twelve I can recall having an erection inside my pants while we were in the garage and taking the same neighbor girl (who was close to my age) by the hand so she could feel it, how hard it was. At the same age, I also took my pants down in my father’s old panel truck so she could see my penis naked; she squealed at the sight of it close-up, and I was surprised at the length it stood out from my body. Also, I remember the two of us playing in our walk-in closet under a blanket, and I would put my hand under her dress on top of her panties and press my fingers into the soft flesh of her little pussy, causing her to scream with delightful indignation and slap my hand.
 
That was also about the time that one of my good male friends from school who lived near us would bring over some hand-written stories of his older female cousin’s sexual escapades, swearing that she had written them herself (although I suspected he was the true author) describing such things as soda bottles in her vagina and playing with the pet dog until he came in her hand. I must admit that whoever was the writer, I got quite an education as he read the graphic descriptions aloud.
 
But it was at the age of thirteen in the late fifty’s that I was initiated into the sensuous world of masturbation. I was locked in the bathroom, sitting on the commode when I started playing with my penis, moving my fingers up and down onto the head of my erection. It was such a beautiful feeling that it made me shiver; I repeated the motion repeatedly, with the tips of my fingers grasping my penis like one of those claw machines you see at the mall. I could feel a warm sensation rising up my cock like the mercury in a thermometer and I backed off, letting it settle down, and then started rubbing it again. Even though I had listened a few times to boys at school describing how they jacked off, I did not associate it with what I was doing.
 
But the last time I manipulated the foreskin, the feeling became more intense, and I quickly pulled my hand away; now it was throbbing without my touching it at all, and waves of sensation were coursing down my ball sack and thighs. Suddenly my stiff penis began erupting like a small volcano, sending what seemed like torrents of hot white lava pouring out of the opening and running down the shaft. For the first time, my body was out of control, and I asked God not to punish me for what I had done.  
 
When it was over, I was a gummy mess, and so was the toilet seat and the pants and underwear around my ankles, and my legs were weak with pleasure, the head of my penis sensitive to the touch.
 
I imagine something similar happens to young girls, only without the benefit of orgasm, when they have their first period. No matter how many pamphlets they read or how many discussions they have with their mothers, the first sight of blood between their legs must be a traumatic sight for some girls, making them wonder what they did wrong.
 
But the mess and the fear of God did not deter me from trying it again and again and again as the days went by. As with any endeavor, the longer I did it the better I got and I soon learned that by turning my hand so that the fleshy heel of my thumb was under the dark ridge of my hard-on, it would act as a cushion while I jacked it under the sensitive head, like milking a cow, only upside-down.  
 
That way I could use less or more pressure and movement to control the urge of my impending ejaculation. And when I did spurt it was a glorious experience, with the surging cream leaping out of my penis inches in the air, causing me to wonder sometimes if anyone ever died from the ecstasy of self-pleasure.
 
Until I was about fourteen or so, because of the negative impression from movies and television about a woman’s reaction to certain things sexual, my beginning masturbation fantasies were about masturbation.  
 
While stroking myself I would fantasize about a cute girl from school sitting next to me and unzipping my pants, pulling out my penis and rubbing it smoothly and sweetly, asking me if it felt good and if she was using the right amount of motion and firmness on it.  
 
She would be very attentive to my every word as I explained the finer points of jacking me off. In the fantasy,  
 
I would manage to gasp the words “Yes, that’s it!” before her tender grip would cause me to explode my semen over her fingers with such power that she would be amazed at how much shot out and with what force. My childish ego also imagined that she would wipe up the cum for me and tell me how impressed she was with my ability to ejaculate.