I don't have the best memory in the world. In fact, although I had a happy childhood and relatively peaceful adolescence, very few specific things stand out to me. But I'll never forget the first time I came.
I was 14 at the time. Thanks to some recent snooping in my parents' bedroom closet (I was actually looking for a favorite toy that my parents had said I was too old to play with, and they'd hidden it), I came across a stash of old Penthouse and Penthouse Forum magazines. Now, I was a fairly naive kid, and while I knew about Playboy, I'd never seen anything like this before.
I knew it was wrong, but I decided to sneak a few issues away, fully intending to return them later. The stash was big enough that two or three missing mags wouldn't be that noticeable. (By this time, of course, I'd forgotten all about the confiscated toy.)
I took the magazines to my bedroom and, that night at bedtime, went in and closed the door (nothing odd in this, as I always slept with my door closed). I said I was going to do some assigned reading for class the next day, so don't worry that I have my light on a little later than usual. And I started browsing.
At this point, I was simply curious. I'd been given 'the talk' long before I hit puberty, so I was aware of the basics of the birds and the bees, but girls and women were still very much a mystery to me. I had no sisters and, being a shy kid, little social experience with the opposite sex.
But these magazines opened up a whole new world to me. I saw things I never even knew existed-ordinary things, of course, but brand new and extremely exotic to me. And while I was salivating over the women and sporting an achingly hard erection, I had not yet even heard of masturbation, much less tried it. So, frustrated, I put the magazines under my bed and eventually went to sleep.
The next day was a school day, a Friday thank goodness, and all day I couldn't get those images out of my head. I was checking the girls in my class out more closely than usual, but it was the era of baggy sweatshirts and sweatpants among high-school girls. So I didn't get a good look at anything-except one girl, who was cute but had a skanky reputation. I couldn't wait to get home that evening.
The trouble was, my parents were having company that night, a family from our church with a couple of kids younger than me. I expected I'd have to babysit while the adults visited. Fortunately, I was wrong. The couple came alone, leaving the kids behind with their own sitter. That left the evening free for me to be alone while they socialized. What a break!
After dinner, while the adults visited over drinks in the downstairs living room, I snuck up to revisit the magazines. After looking at all the photos, I started to peruse the literature-the 'letters' and so forth. And I realized that, for the first time, while I was engrossed in the stories, I was touching myself through my pants. Not rubbing, exactly. Just sort of pressing here and there. And it felt good.
So, to increase the security of my privacy, I decided to go into the upstairs bathroom outside my bedroom. The adults were having a good time downstairs, so I had no worries of being bothered. I sat down on the floor, against the bathtub, and resumed reading.
The story was about a tryst that, at one point, involved the woman masturbating with a banana, and getting it all mushy inside herself. (I wouldn't have thought you'd peel it before inserting it, but I was new to all this.) And that's what did it for me. That image, for whatever reason, made me take the step of pulling down my pants and underwear, and touching myself directly.
And just as I reached the end of that story, I started feeling this out-of-control spasm in my penis. I had a fairly good idea what it was, judging from the story itself, but was still rather taken off guard. I let go of my penis, and all of a sudden, I started shooting-and I mean shooting. It shot stream after stream across the room, some hitting the cupboards and dripping down, the rest landing on the floor. And holy cow, was it intense. To this day, decades later, that may have been my strongest orgasm ever.
I calmed down, feeling both dirty and grown up at the same time. I immediately put two and two together, and realized that it was that fluid that made babies inside women, and that's how you got it out. And it made the stories in the magazines make sense. And it was an incredible revelation that only made me want to do it over and over again.
Of course, by this point I was sensitive, having been touching myself for about an hour. But I managed to get another one out before heading to bed.
That 'aha' moment led me to understand what masturbation was (I've never been one to talk about that kind of thing with other people), and I eventually, by experimenting with different grips and methods, learned how to do it right.
I've been doing it ever since, and when I don't have a woman in my life (and even when I do), it's a wonderful thing to have.
I no longer read those magazines, but that memory will last a lifetime.