When I was in my early teens I hung out with a group of 6 or 7 other boys. There was a similar number of girls who we mixed with on a semi-regular basis. One weekend night during the summer we boys, with parental permission, camped out in a nearby woods. The girls joined us for a time. During the evening, as we sat around a fire, several of the guys sang a then popular song, but substituted lyrics that included a couple of masturbation references. Specifically, the terms masturbation and beat off were used. I expected the girls would take great offense at this language, but there was no reaction beyond a couple of sidelong glances and the moment passed. Our sexual contact with the girls consisted of a game of spin the bottle and no more.
Several days later I learned that this passing reference had generated real curiosity on the part of the girls. Outside of my presence, two of my friends had been asked to describe masturbation. The boys limited their description to 'the guy reaches down and plays with himself.' The girls asked if that was all there was to it. The boys intimated that was not all there was to it, but they did not describe erection or ejaculation. The girls were not satisfied with this explanation, but it was left at that.
At this stage of my sexual education I had the notion that females simply did not share the male interest in sex to any significant degree. After all, did they not routinely resist our advances? I found it both surprising and titillating that they had this determined curiosity about an aspect of sex.
There was an occasion not long after this that I found myself at the apartment of one of the girls, my neighbor Maryann. Maryann's mother worked during the day so her apartment was a frequent hang out place. At first we were alone but, without anybody planning it, we were soon joined by three of the other girls. In attendance were Cathy and Donna, who seemed to be the most aggressively curious, and Nancy who was a type then known as 'a nice Catholic girl.'
The five of us were seated in the living room. Maryann and I were sitting at each end of the couch and the other three were in facing chairs. After a couple of minutes of chatter, Cathy introduced the pertinent subject by saying 'we're still waiting for one of you guys to tell us what really happens when boys masturbate'. Maryann piped up that their dictionary defined it as sexual self abuse. (This was the 60s. I'm an old guy.) 'So what is that,' she asked.
I was no more forthcoming than my friends had been on the earlier occasion. But perhaps because I was the only male present, or because I betrayed my own interest in the subject, the girls were simply not satisfied with my explanation, 'well the guy plays with himself.' They knew there was more to it than that and they wanted to know all about it.
It was at this point that Donna said, 'I think you should just show us.' This comment got the immediate approval of Maryann and Cathy. Their tone was light yet they appeared serious.
This unexpected proposal was being made by girls who were frequently the objects of my teen-age masturbation fantasies. Instead of a reply, I just looked at them. Seeing my hesitation, Donna moved from where she was sitting to a spot next to me on the couch. She placed her arm around my shoulders, her hand on my chest and she leaned into me. I felt her breast on my arm. She asked me in a half pleading and half seductive way, 'would you please show us.' I knew I was being used, but I still became excited.
Without specifically agreeing, I told her I would have to be hard to do it. The naivete of the girls was such that one asked the question, 'what did you mean, you have to be hard.' Not waiting for an answer to the other girl's question, Donna asked what it would take for me to be hard. I told her if I felt her breasts I would get hard. I think this suggestion came to mind because my friend Mickey had recently bragged that he had felt Donna's breasts.
At this point I was still not sure if this was a serious proposal or serious play. But Donna was not tentative. She looked at me and said, 'OK, I'll let you.' The only reaction from the other three was Nancy saying, 'Donna', in a surprised tone.
Looking back on it, I think we were both playing a game of sexual chicken. Each of us believed the other would not take the next step. But with the ball in her court, Donna undid the top button of her blouse and said, 'go ahead'. On one prior occasion I had felt a girl's breasts. I thought their soft fullness was wonderful. Whether we had an agreement or not, I was not going to pass up a chance to touch the thrilling objects again. I reached down her blouse. My access was a little cramped so I asked her to undo another button. She looked at me directly and said, 'Are you going to show us if I let you do this?' I said, 'yes.' She undid a second button and I reached down her blouse and under her bra. She was well developed for her age. After a minute or so of fondling one breast and then the other, she said, 'OK, now show us'.
I took a long look at her and asked, 'you really want me to do this? She said, 'you better do it'. I really did need reassurance that they wanted me to expose myself. I reached down and unbuckled my pants which was the occasion for Nancy to yell out, 'I don't believe this.' At an earlier stage, her reaction would have deterred me. But Donna had gone forward with her end of the bargain and, more to the point, I was genuinely excited. I wanted to masturbate in front of them. Besides, the other girls' approval was made clear when Cathy said, 'shut up Nancy, you can leave if you want'.
After this brief exchange, I parted my pants, and lowered my underpants to reveal my fully erect dick. The girls were surprised by its size though I am not unusually large. 'It's so big', was one comment.
I gripped my dick and began to stroke. The girls were attentive, including the mildly stricken Nancy. When I looked at their faces they occasionally met my gaze but their attention was mainly focused on my rapidly moving hand and dick. The comments were few. Donna asked me if it felt good and I said it did, and Cathy asked what is going to happen, and I said you'll see.
In about two minutes I felt the first tinge of orgasm. Had I been alone I would have stopped stroking in order to continue whatever fantasy was filling my brain, then resume when the sperm retreated. But in the company of these girls I wanted to come hard and fast. I raised my T-shirt to my neck and beat off through the point of release. In my haste I had made no provision to catch the sperm. It came with the force typical of a young teen-age male. It was scattered from my hand holding the bunched T-shirt down my chest and abdomen.
If the sight of an erect dick caused surprise, ejaculation caused a mini-sensation. The comments were spontaneous rather than profound. 'Wow' and 'did you see that' and similar expressions were followed by remarks that reflected the mess of an unplanned masturbation scene, like, 'yuck,' and 'you got it all over you'.
There was no interest in touching, but first Maryann and then Cathy, rose from their seats, came over and pointedly looked at the sperm. Cathy looked at the others and said, 'can you believe babies come from that.' At that point the bold Donna touched a little puddle of sperm on my stomach. She captured a bit of it with the end of her finger. She then rubbed her finger and thumb together while examining it. 'It's gooey,' she announced to the others. Her curiosity satisfied, she wiped her hand on my underpants. Having witnessed the whole scene, Nancy stood up, looked at me and said, 'I can't believe you just did that'. She then left the room.
With Nancy's reproach hanging in the air, embarrassment quickly set in. And not just on my part. The girls were accomplices after all. After the initial comments, nobody seemed to have anything to say. I asked for some Kleenex. Maryann pulled one out of a nearby box and handed it to me. The one was insufficient. When I said I needed more, she picked up the box and handed it to me. Having just put on one of the most graphic of sexual displays, you would think I would have had no further concern about modesty. But I was thoroughly self conscious as I wiped up the sperm under the continued gaze of the girls. I covered myself as quickly as I could. After a brief muted conversation I went home. Though I was filled with regret at what I had done, by the evening I was masturbating to the memory of it. I still do.