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How It All Started

By the age of seven, I had already discovered my penis as an object of pleasure. One Sunday, our family went to another family's house. Us kids got soaking wet from running through the sprinkler, so the parents gave me a dry pair of shorts to wear. They did not give me underpants and there was a hole where the pocket should have been, and I discovered I could reach inside and feel my penis. I played with myself all afternoon. It was probably noticed, but that didn't occur to me at the time. About the same age, my ass also became a sexual place. This happened partly as a result of enemas, which I feared and hated as a young child. If my mom called the doctor when I was sick, I waited in fear of the dreaded word. One day, I got hysterical in the bathroom and both my parents had to restrain me to bend me over my mother's lap, where I lay writhing and screaming. I suppose it was a bit like being raped. Laying with my bare dick and bare ass over the lap of a female (even if it was my mother) was definitely sexual, and being forced to submit probably made it even more exciting. I remember that my little penis got hard and the enema tip penetrating my ass felt good. The warm water gushing into that part of my body felt good, too. Then, my stomach would start to hurt as it filled with water, and that felt bad, but also a little good. I guess you could sum it up by saying the whole experience was confusing, but whatever you can say about it, it imprinted me for life.

In seventh grade, I had to ride the bus downtown after school for my music lessons. I would stop at a drugstore on the way to buy a snack. With the normal sexual curiosity of a 13-year-old, I sometimes roamed the aisles looking for anything that had any sexual intrigue about it. One day I hit the jackpot. In the glass case by the pharmacist's counter, I spotted the most erotic object I had ever seen. It was a douche device with a rubber bulb and a nozzle that was extremely suggestive of a nice, hard penis. It was long, nearly an inch in diameter, had a nice upward curve, and flared suggestively at the end, like the head of a dick. My heart thumped in my chest as I stole a few glances at it. I wanted to go right up to the counter and stare at it, but I didn't dare be that obvious. I really wanted to take it home, get undressed, put some Vaseline on it, and slowly penetrate my bare ass while I beat off. Of course, that was out of the question. How could a 13-year-old boy tell the pharmacist that his mom sent him to buy her a new douche syringe? The mental image of that thing penetrating me served as a masturbation fantasy for a long time after that.


Posted on: 2005-02-12 00:00:00 | Author: