Where it happened: bedroom
Langauge: english
Sex: Male
Rating: 5
Category: Straight
For many of us who grew up in the 50’s and 60’s, sex was a taboo subject that was never talked about in the home. Certainly my family, as conservatively religious as any, was no different. When I hit puberty around age 13, I had only the barest idea of where babies came from. About all I knew about sex was that it was wrong.
I remember the first time I got an erection. I was in the hospital because of a kidney infection. I woke up one morning and felt funny “down there”. I looked and was shocked, a bit confused, really scared to see my penis was hard and sticking straight up. I’m not sure where I learned this was “naughty”, but I knew it was. I quickly looked away feeling guilty.
I needed to pee, and I thought that maybe my penis had filled up with pee. Seemed logical. Or maybe it was because of the kidney infection. I was much too embarrassed and ashamed to say anything to anyone.
After I got home from the hospital, over the next couple of weeks (or longer) I started getting erections more and more frequently. There was always a sensation like I wanted to pee, and I continued to think that, somehow, as a result of the kidney infection my penis was now filling up with pee. There was also a strange urge to touch myself which deeply ashamed me. So, not only was I careful not to touch, I wouldn’t even look.
Then I discovered the Playboys under my brother’s bed. I was breathless, amazed, stunned looking at those pictures. I don’t remember how long I sat on my bed looking at those Playboys – a long time. Long enough that my physical condition had become very uncomfortable.
The urge to touch myself was too overwhelming. I knew it was Wrong. But it hurt. It occurred to me that if I kept my pants on, I’m not really touching me, just the pants. The touch became a sort of rub, though. It did make things somehow less painful after all. The pants were tight, though. Just making things worse. So, I figured it would help to take them off, and then I’d stop. Well, I did have underwear on, so I still wouldn’t really be touching myself.
The “sort of rub” became more than just sort of. The underwear, now, was kind of chafing. But if I don’t look, then it would be all right if…
Of course, I did look, stared. I was surprised and scared by how swollen – maybe it was punishment for being Bad. I was consumed with guilt, but I couldn’t stop. I laid on the bed, imagining one of the centerfolds touching me, rubbing, while a sweet, wonderful pressure, building, growing… Suddenly, I felt something…break loose, an odd, deep pulsing…
A panicked thought flashed through me that I was starting to pee. “Don’t pee on the bed!!” I don’t actually remember getting off the bed, but I found myself on the floor in a sort of sprawl, watching this stuff shoot out seemingly every where. It felt so beyond good that I didn’t care. After, though, I was horrified, terrified. I had been BAD. And because I had been, it was clear that the kidney infection was back.
I made a solemn oath never to do that again! Ever!
An oath that lasted all of two days.
Fortunately, I eventually came to realize that I wasn’t Bad nor did I really have an infection. I did feel rather guilty about breaking that oath, though. It was a solemn oath after all.
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