A true experience from my Junior High days. Some details have been slightly altered to protect identity. I offer this story because I now know that I was not the only freak out there.
Up until 8th grade I lived in a very small, rural town in central New England. Being precocious both in my physical and intellectual development and drawn to art and reading rather than sports I was a constant target for ridicule and hazing. Worse, as a second-generation Anglo-American living with my extended family under the influence of my British-born grandmother, I had some fairly fey, old-fashioned (and frankly middle-class Edwardian) habits and mannerisms such as drinking hot tea with milk at lunch (not strange for adults in New England or Canada, but certainly weird for an 8-year-old boy). In fact my family was generally regarded in the town as freakish, foreign and Socialist (which was true--they had been forced to emigrate from England for organising labor union violence) and some of the teachers I had not only taught my father but also shared this suspicion about my family and allowed quite a bit of nasty hazing to go unpunished. Worse yet, I knew for sure by about the third grade that I was attracted to men.
From the time I sprouted my first pubes about 4 months before my 11th birthday I masturbated constantly, fantasizing about my male classmates. By fifth grade I was regularly rubbing myself raw, even excusing myself from class to masturbate in the boys' loo--always 'pulling the chain' afterwards to hide my habit. By 12 I was ejaculating 4 or 5 times a day and experimenting with eating my spunk and massaging my anus. I did everything I could to hide my development, because I knew it would become a source of ridicule and torment. I even shaved the hair under my arms. By the time I was in 6th grade there were four of us maturing early--each of the other three fairly popular kids who would have nothing to do with me.
One day in 6th grade gym class--I believe it was in the Spring semester because the lilacs had bloomed and the bulbs were gone by and my grandmother had long since ushered Spring in with her saying: 'Christ has died, Christ is ris', I wonder where the flowers is'--I got to looking around the locker room at the other boys and got a raging erection. A less-developed classmate shouted, 'Look, Ian has a boner'. I could have died; every one of my classmates stared at me and taunted me. I knew they were jealous because of its size, but I was just devastated. The gym coach was my saving grace--he stopped the taunting and pulled me aside to tell me that my development was natural. I told him that my family felt that way too, and that gym coach really went out of his way to protect me and give me special help to develop my growing muscles and loose weight.
Walking home from the school bus stop that day, I ran into Richie, the boy who taunted me. He didn't exactly apologize, but he wanted to see my erection again. I told him I would jack off for him if he would join me. So, I pulled out my mature penis and he pulled out his boyish, hairless dick and we went at it in a maple grove. After he saw me shoot my load, much of the taunting stopped. Our masturbation sessions, however, did not. Soon he matured, and we were jerking and sucking almost every day after school. We even kissed.
Although he was never a 'friend', he never again participated in the hazing and we jacked and sucked each other raw for the next couple of years. I don't know what happened to him but knowing that I wasn't the only horny teen in town contributed to my later healthy and happy acceptance of my sexual orientation. I still keep a hot pot of tea on my sideboard (we call it a 'Welsh cabinet') from morning until bedtime, and still drink it, as my grandmother would have said, 'with milk in'.