This is my first post, maybe others will follow. The story is a bit long, but I hope you like it.
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I started jacking off when I was about eight, so, at the time of this story, I would do it as often as I could, for I really enjoyed it. I think I found out about masturbation on my own: I can't remember anybody teaching me, or even talking about masturbation in front of me. My parents never talked about sex to me neither; they just bought some books for me, which were more about how babies are born than about children's sexuality (do such books exist, for that matter?). I never asked questions to my parents and that was fine for all of us.
By the time I started my masturbator's carreer, my dick was too short to fit into my fist. I would wrap the ring formed by my thumb and forefinger around my dick and move the foreskin back and forth until I came. Being so young, I had dry orgasms of course, but they still were very enjoyable and they spared me the chore of catching my semen with a tissue and finding a clean and discreet way to dispose of it. My dick would pulsate with the familiar rhythm, but nothing would come out of it. With regular ejaculations, I would never have been able to play the game I'm going to talk about.
One summer, my whole family was going on a holiday by car. The journey was very long and VERY boring. The blazing sun had turned the car into an oven, for it had got no air conditioning. I had no water to drink. There was a bottle shared by my parents and my sister, but I didn't want to drink from a bottle that had been used by someone else. My parents used to treat me like a baby, or so I felt. They never bothered buying me my own bottle and didn't give me the money to do so myself. My dad disapproved my disgust in sharing tableware with someone else, so he might have done it a little bit on purpose too. Thinking back many years later, I still remember this journey as the worst of my life.
Shade, shade! This, and the end of the journey, was all I longed for. I was wearing only a T-shirt and a swimsuit and my tighs stuck uncomfortably to the large towel I was sitting on. Then, I had an idea. I pulled up my feet and covered myself with the towel, which was now resting on my head and my spread knees. This setup allowed for the shade and air flow I needed, and I began to feel better. I could close my eyes and even snooze a bit.
As I hid under my shelter, my mind began to wander, but I always ended up thinking about something sexual. I would think about resting my cheek on the cool and smooth ass of a girl or about kissing her on her mouth. I wasn't interested in intercourse at that age, but the mere thought of myself having some fun with a girl of my age always gave me a hard-on. I decided that my dick deserved some relief, so I pulled my swimsuit up and down to my ankles. My dad was driving. My mum was staring ahead or she would have been sick. My little sister usually slept and anyway I didn't care if she noticed anything. The sight of my boner was arousing me further as was the fact of being in such a narrow place with three other people who didn't know about what I was going to do. There was enough room for my hand to move unseen, so I went for it and I masturbated to orgasm. It was the first of many and the only good memory of that terrible journey, that lasted two full days.
Some final thoughts. At that time, I thought I was the only one in my family to know what masturbation was, and I thought that anyway nobody would ever suspect what I did. Today, I think my parents probably knew more than I imagined, but it doesn't matter. We never talked about masturbation and probably never will.