The many contributions from teenagers show how different things are from the days of my youth, in the 1940's. With no TV, let alone the internet, we were far less prepared for the changes that puberty brought. My first ejaculation came as quite a shock, but that is getting ahead of the story.
I attended a rather posh school for boys. The compulsory uniform meant that we had to wear shorts, shorts with very wide leg openings, right up to the age of sixteen. In the third year we had prep periods, a time for some private study or homework. A new boy had joined the class. Rather overweight and wearing thick spectacles, he seemed to be something of a loner with few friends and usually would sit in any spare seat in the class room, or so I thought.
One day, he sat next to me in the prep period. I was puzzling over some complex algebra, and he leant over to help me. As he whispered the solution, his hand slipped up the legs of my shorts and started to fondle my genitals. It was so unexpected that I just sat there frozen and unable to think what to do. Meanwhile my body was reacting to the stimulation and I soon had a raging erection. In truth, I did rather enjoy him fondling my penis and testicles. In later prep periods, I watched him sit next to other boys. After a while, there would be that shocked look on their face, no wonder he sat with different boys. After a while his groping became a pretty routine thing, and I didn't worry too much about it.
The following summer, I was cycling home with him across the fields. It was a glorious sunny day. We stopped for a while to lay in the deserted field, and enjoy the warm sunshine. As I lay there, watching the swallows circling overhead, his hand strayed up my leg into my shorts and was soon fondling my erect penis. There was no one about, so it didn't worry me that he pulled it out into the open air. His fondling technique had changed a little, for he now rubbed my penis up and down, in what would soon become a very familiar activity. After a while, there was a feeling in my groin rather as if I wanted a pee. But I was quite enjoying his attention and tensed my muscles to damp those messages, but not for long. There was the most fantastic, powerful build up and then fluid, a white creamy fluid, spurted out all over his hand and my clothes. He was shocked, and wiped his hand on the grass. I just lay there, suddenly tired but so content.
In bed that night, I thought about the events of the afternoon. OK, I often had spontaneous erections, and they could certainly be a problem, but what had happened earlier was very different indeed. I grasped my already rigid penis like he had done, and moved it up and down. Before long there was that feeling, and the glorious release. I had been introduced to the pleasures of masturbation, and with hormones flowing freely through my veins, it would soon be a regular and necessary release. It wasn't long before other boys in the class admitted to indulging. A little later, one of my friends boasted to several of us that he was saving his sperm in a milk bottle, and that it was already half full. In those days, milk was supplied in wide mouthed glass bottles that held one pint.
We laughed at him, but he was adamant and insisted we go home with him one day. Sure enough, he took us to the garden shed and there was a milk bottle half filled with a rather greyish fluid, and the smell was very characteristic. In retrospect, it wasn't too surprising that he had managed to produce so much semen. For the first seven or eight years I often masturbated three or four times a day. Marriage brought sexual release in a different way but very frequently, even after children were born. True, the frequency of orgasm dropped gradually over the years, but a rough calculation suggests that over the last fifty odd years I have produced the equivalent of over sixty milk bottles, some eight gallons or so. Makes you think.