I grew up home-schooled in a very strict family where my father preached about the sins of masturbation. My friend Paul taught me a lot in one weekend.
I grew up in the mountains of North Carolina on a small farm in a cove about 20 miles from the closest town of any size, Murphy. My father farmed and 'saved souls' at a small clapboard Pentecostal church. He wanted to keep us away from the sins and temptations of the world so my three brothers and two sisters were all home-schooled on the farm.
Daily life included frequent prayers directed by my father. One of his prayers was a purity prayer to help us avoid the sins of the flesh as he'd call it. I was the youngest of the boys and as each of us reached adolescence, we'd get sermons about the evils of masturbation. Sex was only something to be done in marriage and only for the procreation of children. Women were to do their duty for their husbands and allow them sex within marriage. If father ever noticed any of us boys with an erection, we'd get a brief sermon about the lust of the flesh and he'd start praying for us.
Needless to say, I never learned much about my body and with all that pressure never tried masturbating. I shared a room with my three brothers, so even if I wanted to try it, I never had any privacy except in the outhouse which had an opening on the door so it was not very private.
For my sixteenth birthday, my parents let me go camping with another family from our church who had a son my age, Paul. It was the first time I'd ever spent the night away from our farm.
It was a great experience being away from home. Paul's family, though they were part of the same church, were much looser and seemed to enjoy life. Paul and I hiked up to a waterfall and went skinny dipping in the pool at the bottom. After we swam for a while, Paul asked me if I wanted to beat off with him before we went back to camp.
I knew what he was talking about and was horrified that he'd confess to doing it. He was surprised when I told him I'd never done it, that it was sinful. He laughed and told me I'd love it and urged me to join him.
Interestingly to me, even though I was denying that it was OK, my cock had its own idea and had gotten really hard.
'Come on Robert,' he urged. 'Give it a tug.'
We sat on the bank and Paul started rubbing his cock which was gradually growing as he did. 'Just do what I'm doing,' he prompted. 'It's OK, I promise you.'
I hesitated and then began rubbing. It felt good, but scared me. Watching him stroke was turning me on as I continued mimicking his movements.
As we increased our pace a little, I began feeling this rumbling in my balls and cock. I didn't know quite what the feeling was. I felt like I needed to pee really bad. Paul realized what was happening, and urged me to keep stroking. All of a sudden this huge wad of cum gushed out of my cock followed by another ten of so large spurts, which was the most amazing feeling I'd ever experienced. Then Paul started spurting also which fascinated me to watch.
Guilt struck me almost immediately, but only momentarily as my guilt quickly turned to anger at all those purity prayers and lectures I got from my father. How could something that amazingly pleasurable be a sin against God? I asked Paul if it could do it again. He told me that it usually took him a little while before he was recharged, but that I could probably since it was my first time. I started stroking again with much less timidity and my orgasm was not as intense as the first, but wonderfully pleasurable.
Only one brother was still living at home and I'd realized after my weekend with Paul what I'd hear some nights from his bed. I learned to keep my sanity by masturbating quietly in bed and by disappearing into the hay loft or by the creek frequently for my daily sessions. My brother and I never spoke about what we'd do in the dark.
I was able to go visit Paul about once a week and we had great sessions together, sometimes stroking each other. He had found a stack of porn in a recycling bin one day, so we developed a lot of new desires and fantasies.
After my weekend with Paul, my father at first was much more adamant about the purity prayers, but after a few months he seemed resigned to the fact that he'd lost me as part of his flock and quit harping on it.
After I turned eighteen, I got a job in Murphy and went to the community college there where I learned a lot more about life than the landscaping course I was studying. I became a much happier boy after I'd learned the pleasure of masturbation.