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Posted by: Author: Age: 12 then Posted on: 0 comments
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A few months before I turned 13... my first cum was a surprise ..


I had been sick with walking pneumonia when I was twelve a few months before my thirteenth birthday. I remember it well because it was the time that President Kennedy had been shot. I had to stay home from school. The doctor told my mom I had to stay in bed, rest and basically ended up being bored during the convalescence.

I'm not sure why, but having all that time to dwindle, I thought I should like to kick around in my pj's without my underwear. I remembered the pleasant sensation I felt when I had to sleep without underwear at six (another sick time occasion). I remember it was a thrilling sensation that I had forgotten about... But now, at twelve, with all this time on my hand, I recalled that time so long ago, and wondered if I could recreate those feelings.

So, mostly, during the day, my mom let me lay in bed or on the couch to watch TV . I would get all wrapped up in a blanket, nice and comfy, then slip off my tight white shorts. I half daydreamed while watching TV. I thought about my friends and remembered the times during the summer when we caught glimpses of one another while changing for swim. I began to wonder how I compared to some of my friends. Some of my friends back then looked much bigger and more developed than me. Some had much more hair and dark colored privates, but then again, some guys were 4 or 5 years older than I and were much more developed. It was hard not to stare at them.

Now, as I lay on the couch, I wondered when I would start to look like them or if my dick would get as big.

I stretched and pulled my dick to see how long it actually was. I took a ruler against my hardon, the feeling was incredible. I don't remember how long it measured, but, I remember the feeling of smooth wood against my private parts was causing me to get hot. While I was doing this, my mom walked in to the TV room to tell me to come to the dinner table for some soup. I know she noticed what I was doing. I blushed, my heart was racing, I was nervous wondering what my mom would do. I pulled up my bottom pj's and covered myself with the blanket really quick. My mom pretended not to notice. She never did said anything. Whew, but what a rush it created. I wanted to recreate that rush again. So, as I sat at the table eating my soup,I reached down, and pulled my dick out of the fly of my pj's. It felt great feeling the air in the open, even if it was under the table. I just pet myself into hardness giving me a very powerful feeling. In a way, it was a game I was playing, hoping not to get caught, not knowing how long before mom would notice and say something, maybe she would punish me. It's not knowing, wondering, letting the imagination run wild that helped create the rush. The rush did come back. Every time my mom turned around to speak to me created a rush. I knew she could not see me exposing myself under the table, but still... I had a hard time to talk normal and keep a straight face during that lunch.

Later on, while back on the couch watching more TV, I daydreamed about foreskins. I was cut, but I tried to stretch my skin over my penis head wondering what it would be like if I had that extra skin like a friend of mine had. I kept this up for awhile, stretching my skin beyond my dick head, hiding it, folding it down in the ball sack, it caused me to get erect and it became more difficult to cover my penis head with loose skin. I got up to walk over and get a drink from the fridge, my erection shot out from the fly as I walked to the kitchen. Again, the rush came back, as I wondered 'where's my mom'? will she see me? The whole scene created a 'high point' of 'daring do' and excitement for me that lasted quite a while.

Later that evening, while laying in bed, I wondered about sharing my new found discoveries with some of my close friends. I thought I had discovered something new and thrilling. I wanted to show my friends how they could pull their cut skin over their helmet and how 'playing' with it like that would cause the dick to get hard and rubbing the skin up and down caused unbelievable good sensations. I wanted to tell all my best buddies what I discovered, perhaps, we could show each other about these sensations. Wouldn't that be great!

During the evening, before dosing off to sleep, I was playing with myself by holding my dick between my thumb and index finger. The feelings grew more intense as I rubbed myself slowly and rhythmically along the side of my leg. Then, all at once, a burst of feelings exploded from within me. I felt wetness and noticed clear liquid with some white goo on my leg. My dick was throbbing even as I let go of it. It was my first time and I was scared of what just happened. I thought I shouldn't do this anymore that perhaps I hurt myself. I worried I may have to go to the doctor's and everyone would find out what I had been doing. After waiting it out for a couple of days and nothing bad happened to me physically, I could not resist the urge to repeat the episode. One more time, I thought, just to see if the same thing would happen. Each time I tried rubbing myself along my leg, the feelings came back only more intense. I got really wrapped up in myself, in my own little world of discovery. I started to wonder if I was normal because I couldn't stop repeating the play. I became obsessed with myself. I began to worry what my friends would say if I told them about this 'discovery', I became scared. So, this first discovery became my 'little secret'. I tried to 'cure' my habit by myself not wanting to tell anyone else. At first, I worked really hard every day to overcome the desire to repeat these masturbation sessions, but, instead, every day I thought of more variations, looking to discover something more intense, more heighten feelings. In the end, it became impossible and not realistic to think I could end this habit, but I tried. I never did tell anyone, not even my friends about my discovery. I thought I was the one not normal. Too bad. I guess that's what happens when we become afraid. We fall into a deep well onto ourselves, ever more difficult to climb free of our obsessions or to share of our secrets.



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