I should clarify that I finally drifted off to sleep without bothering to clean up, partly because I was too tired to bother, but neither did I want to clean up - I didn't feel like I'd done anything wrong, anything to be embarrassed or ashamed about that I should clean up. I felt as if I'd simply done the most natural thing in the world, what I was made for.
I first started getting erections when I was fourteen and a half and I didn't particularly like it. We'd studied the principles of reproduction at school, but not the mechanics, so I didn't understand why it happened that I went stiff. It seemed to happen when I was anxious or stressed about stuff and it felt uncomfortable and made me feel worse, more tense and frustrated, and I longed for it to go away and never happen again.
However, over the course of about six months it started happening more and more regularly and I had soon devised a couple of techniques to get rid of my erection. One was to squeeze it tightly about half way down, forming a ring with my fore-finger and thumb, and the other was to turn onto my front and squash it against the mattress until I eventually fell asleep.
A couple of months after my fifteenth birthday two incidents happened within a few days of each other. The first was on a Monday morning during a science lesson. We were doing a practical experiment, working in pairs, and during the course of this Graham, my lab partner shook his fist towards me and whispered, 'I do it like this'. To this day I don't know why he suddenly said that, and I hadn't got a clue what he was talking about and I just smiled politely and returned my attention to the experiment. Then a couple of days later, on Wednesday afternoon after the last period I had to go for a piss before going home. While I was standing at the urinal, a senior came in and went to the next stall. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that his tool was stiff like mine got, and as I finished off he started rubbing it to and fro. Suddenly the penny dropped, I knew what Graham had been talking about. 'So that's how you get rid of it' I thought to myself.
On Thursday evening I had a whole stack of homework. I started with math and when I couldn't get it right I fell behind and worked on late. Finally, about ten, I packed it in and went to bed with only half my work done, feeling highly stressed. It was my ideal conditions for getting an erection and true to form I stiffened in my pyjamas almost as soon as I'd climbed into bed.
It was time to put my new technique into practice and I started rubbing myself gently up and down with a forefinger and thumb. I was expecting my erection would soon go down, but before very long I realised it was having the opposite effect. Rather than going down, my erection seemed to be getting bigger, more stiff, as I stroked, with the tip, the glans, welling up like a balloon.
Now I wasn't at all sure what to expect, but I carried on stroking anyway. Somehow it felt quite exhilarating, and also something in my mind, a sort of instinct, told me this was right. Getting stiffer was what was supposed to happen. Presently my tip was more swollen than ever and I felt like I wanted a piss with it. I tried to hold it back and tensed my body instinctively, arching my back up and bracing my legs. Suddenly me tool gave an almighty twang in my hand, like a spring recoiling, and I felt a long spurt of fluid wetting all up the front my tee shirt. My tool pumped a second time, then a third and I wet a bit more. As I started to go soft again, a few more drips oozed onto the front of my boxers and I gave a long sigh of relief, overwhelming, stupendous relief. I lay awake for some time after. All the tension was gone from my body and I was in orbit. That was beautiful, that was so beautiful, I kept thinking. I knew I would never forget the feeling of that twang.
I had just had my first orgasm.