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I grew up in a small, rural town in a dusty state famous for nothing. Well, cattle, I guess. My high school had about two hundred kids in it, and I had to ride a bus for nearly an hour to get there and again to get home.
I had neighbors, but none close by, and none my age to do anything with. It was not just boring living out there, it was soul-crushingly lonely.
I learned to masturbate by accident when I was thirteen. I had no friends, my father had no pornography that I ever knew of, and cable television, home video, and computers, let alone the internet, didn't exist yet. I was getting erections nearly constantly by then, and I didn't understand why my manhood would get so hard and feel so tingly when I didn't have a girl to make a baby with. Health class in school was useless for explaining that.
All I knew about my privates was that my johnson would grow, especially now that it had started growing hair around the base of it. It would get longer and thicker, my testes would grow larger and heavier, and one day I would be a man. Then I could marry a woman, and we would consummate our love, and somehow use my penis and her womanly parts to create a baby.
One day I woke up and Dad was in the bathroom, so I had to wait to use it. It wasn't the first time I had woken up with an erection, but this morning it felt as if I had to piss very badly, sort of. I had been dreaming of something sexual and was aroused, as was becoming more and more usual. I reached into my pajamas and pulled the skin over the tip and pinched the end of it to keep from wetting myself. I almost went to the window and peed out of it, but the kitchen window would let Mom see me doing that if she was at the sink, and she probably was from time to time as she fixed our breakfast. I sat on my bed and pinched the skin tight over the tip. It tickled. I wasn't sure I had to actually piss, but it felt like it. I kind of wiggled my thumb and finger and it felt really good. I didn't have to pee so bad, and it felt really neat. I pulled down my pajama bottoms and kind of looked at it, and moved the loose skin back and the end of it was a little wet. It tickled to touch it, and felt really good. I rubbed my finger over the hole in the end of it and smeared that fluid around, knowing it was too sticky and thick for pee, but not sure what else it was. Surely it wasn't semen, right? But whatever it was, it was slippery and felt great when I rubbed it around on the end of my penis. I pulled my skin all the way back and my whole body shivered. It had never felt so hard. I can remember even all these decades later how utterly impossibly hard it felt. And how strongly and overwhelmingly tingly it was. And how much it bounced all on its own.
Over the next couple of minutes I found out just how much fun a guy could have all alone. Rolling the skin back and forth with my hand felt better than anything else ever had. I got scared when it suddenly felt like I was going to pee all over the place, but it felt too good to stop! I aimed it at the corner so I wouldn't have pee all over my floor and then closed my eyes, feeling my body tensing and twisting and my breath catching in my throat.
Holy shit, that was something! I bent over forward and felt warm, thick stuff squirting out over my fingers, and my balls ache, and my anus clenching. All my muscles seemed to be tense and wiggly. I even squealed. I was afraid my Dad or Mom would hear, but it felt too good to care!
When it was over, I toppled onto my bed and panted and looked at the warm, white, sticky mess I had made in my hands. I was panting like crazy, and a little sweaty. The semen smelled funny, but felt neat when I smeared it all around the end of my penis.
I was hooked.
I didn't make friends. I knew that I was different, but I hadn't been brainwashed yet about what it meant. I just knew that I didn't like girls the way the other boys did. And I knew that I liked boys the way the other boys liked girls. I could live with that, so long as no one else knew. I knew I would be alone, probably, but I knew there had to be others, too. I hoped I would some day meet one and we could be friends.
When I went to school the next year to the much larger middle school, I learned a great deal from the older boys there. I'd hear those older boys talking about jerking it off, and I knew what they were talking about. Now when they talked about how far they, "shot it," or how much, I knew what they meant. When they bragged about a girl touching it and making it shoot, or sucking it and making it squirt, I knew what had happened.
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