Where it happened: My house
Langauge: English
Sex: Male
Rating: 10
Category: Straight
Nobody circumcised me. My mom told me how certain religions wanted their male children cut. The doctors no longer debated over the improved hygiene. (chuckling) Aesthetics came as a matter of taste. If I made sure to peel back the foreskin and wash and rinse well, I won’t have any problems, said the doctors. So at six years old I pampered my penis and treated it as something precious.
At a slumber party we covered the living floor with sleeping bags. We shone flashlights at each other making a point to focus on other people’s groins. Shirley, ten years old, called our attention to shine our beams at her. She exposed her clitoris making it stand like a pinky toe. We laughed and stayed in shock for nearly a half hour.
My parents kept huge Sears catalogs. Fascinated by bras and the women who modeled them, I stayed in my room for hours. By accident, perhaps by making changes in position on my bed, I found repeated pressing and rubbing against the mattress excited me. It felt good and the pleasure increased. And a pressure grew feeling almost like peeing. I feared I might pee myself but I kept pushing. This felt like falling, hearing my heart beat fast and my breathing quick and heavy. I reached to find something, but I touched nothing unusual or wet. In just a few seconds everything seem to return to normal. So I started rubbing myself against the mattress again and many more times. I kept this a secret. I few months later I gave myself my first handjob after some experimenting and reading up. Maybe this happened before my eleventh birthday.
After a date where I and a senior saw two movies, Legend and I don’t remember the other, we talked in my mom’s car, a Datsun honeybee. She amazed me that she had an afternoon internship at Dow Chemicals. I didn’t think, while still a highschool junior, that I could go to college and internships like she had. While talking we felt like a magnet pulled our faces together. I saw the brightness in her eyes and she tilted her to one side. Our lips drew closer and smack. Our teeth collided. Ouch. I felt with my tongue for any loosened tooth or blood. She checked hers. And we tried again with the same result. She said goodnight and got out of the car thanked me for a wonderful time. I didn’t date her afterward. I don’t remember why not.
My senior year of highschool, I made it a goal to get laid. I didn’t expect the first dance of the year, the Freshman Party, would hook me up with a sophomore named Leslie. We went out exclusively the entire semester. We managed massaging each other and cuddling. When I had told her I wanted to move on and date others we got into a tearful fight. We held each other to say goodbye but we ended up french kissing. It felt like an explosion of erotic heat that kept pouring into us everywhere we touched each other. Our teeth didn’t collide. This openned up my first sexual exploration with another person.
We waited until March. She had her sixteenth birthday. At the time I thought the law couldn’t touch us. We bought a box of thirty-six Sheik condoms. We openned the box together in my room when my parents hadn’t yet come home. We counted the rows of sealed condoms and openned a few to blow up like balloons. Anticipating this moment for months, we hurriedly took our clothes off. I remember slowly undressing her. I read up on this aspect of making love. I rehearsed it in my imagination hundreds of times. We tried everything we heard or saw from magazines and movies short of the deed of this moment. We, two virgins, made the plunge into the act that we could no longer consider ourselves that label anymore. I remember the surprise finding the first time pain of breaking the hymen didn’t happen for her. I noticed no bleeding. I felt relieved. We did it twice, once in the santuary of my bed. Then overcame with joy, we frollicked about the house naked except for our blanket capes. We groped at each other everywhere until we ended up doing it on the carpet in the hallway.
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