Thank You So Much, Mom.
I think many of us learn to masturbate by ourselves when we're all alone. At that young, inexperienced age, we're inundated with snippets of information on the playground, which we gradually sort out in our minds, but when we actually succeed, it's very private, and our success depends upon some memory or sensation that we hadn't really thought about before. At least, that's how it was in my case.
I'm now 85, and I haven't forgotten my first memorable erection, because of the trauma that ignited it. It happened in the fall of 1931 or 1932. I was bedridden for about two weeks, during which time I became so severely constipated that my mother decided to give me an enema.
The preliminaries took well over an hour in mid-morning, and after total failure, she announced her intention to give me an 'injection'. I had no idea what was involved, and after my questions were answered in an off-handed way, she came in with a basin of water, a rubber sheet, a towel and a little cardboard box. She prepared my bed, got me up on my knees on the rubber sheet, filled the little rubber syringe with water, and then, much to my shock, nearly 'ran me through' with it.
Try as she might, she couldn't get the nozzle up my rectum, three or four attempts before she got it right. Then, when she injected the water, she pumped the bulb, thus causing repeated loud gurgling. I was screaming in fear and pain, and didn't cooperate at all. So it took awhile, but after two such sessions, she got my bowels to move.
And I discovered at sometime during the ordeal, that I had a throbbing erection that even hurt a little. The whole thing branded me with an enema fetish that I've enjoyed ever since.
As I entered my pre-teens, my friends and I were gradually introduced to masturbation. Usually, it was all talk, but on rare occasions, a few of us out in the bush or some other private place, took out our equipment and tried to 'shoot' the stuff. One or two did, and so I saw that the resulting liquid was real. But I couldn't produce any myself.
I continued to try, using many fantasies, girl's legs and bums, girls being punished at school, girls wearing rubber undies, the smell of girl's running shoes . .etc . .etc . .and above all, girls being given enemas . . but nothing. Then one Sunday afternoon, when my parents went out visiting and I had the house to myself, I made some soapy water, poured it into mom's enema can, disrobed, and had an enema all by myself. Of course, this gave me a fantastic erection, so I shut off the flow, left the hose in place up my bum, and began masturbating.
Until that day, I hadn't understood my own plumbing. I had imagined that shooting the 'goo' would be exactly like peeing, since they both came out of the same pipe. Thus, every time I masturbated, I pressed hard as if to pee, and failed.
But that afternoon, with a rectum full of soap suds, with the hose still in place, and all, I had to keep from leaking water, so I had all my valves shut off. Stroking my hard penis felt absolutely delightful, and as I kept at it, my sensations intensified until suddenly I was overwhelmed by a pulsating field of energy. It emanated from the centre of my soul and radiated in waves of pleasure that just kept getting more and more intense. And then it happened.
Big drops of white stuff shot out of my penis, and some white thread-like strands. I was somewhat lying back on my bed at the time, and the first few dollops flew right over my shoulder and splatted on the wall. The rest got no farther than my chest and belly . . . .But oh wow! The ancient ecstasy was suddenly mine, too, and I was so proud of myself, for I immediately knew what had happened, that I wanted to proudly shout my achievement from the house tops.
Instead, I lay back and savoured my victory, my pleasure, my entry into adolescence, and then I removed the hose, stuck the nozzle into the can, went in and expelled my enema, and bathed . . . .and cleaned up . . .
And I haven't stopped masturbating yet.