Wonderful Memory of my First Orgasm

Yeah, lonely bored and sweaty. August nights on the Jersey Shore in 1980 were hot and muggy. And with the central air broken again, I was lying naked atop the sheets. But I was alone in my room - a rarity! My older brother who shared the bedroom was out with his friends. Some alone time to do 'private things'! My erection that night was nothing new. And fiddling with it wasn't either. I'm sure I'd heard of whacking off, as I later called it, but the mechanics of it were a mystery. I'd recently developed a new fascination with my naked self. So this night, with the fan blowing lightly across my stomach and tickling the new hairs on my thighs and surrounding the base of my cock, I tried new and different ways to entertain myself. I gripped my erection in my left hand and ran my right hand's palm across the head, which created exquisite feelings, but too much so - that was not quite right. Gently rubbing my open palm up and down the shaft was a bit erotic, but still not what I needed. I've always enjoyed little touches across the glans, gently scratching my nails across my prostate or running my fingers through my pubic hair. I think my appreciation for light touches began at that time. But tonight that wasn't cutting it, either. I craved - needed - more! I didn't know what this need was but somehow I had to satisfy it. I remember twisting, slapping, and even squeezing my poor penis so hard it hurt, and in the dim light from the street, I could see my glans pulsing, reddish-purple and angry. But still that just left me frustrated and aching. Pain has never been my thing. I left it alone for a minute, maybe two. I remember watching it bobbing and then slowing down, leaning to the side. I think by that point, my need was undeniable. In frustration I wrapped my fingers around my cock in the classic position and began flailing my hand up and down - not in the way that all men know how, but pivoting with my hand against my pubic bone, so my fingertips slapped my lower belly and my knuckles passed between my splayed thighs. I kept this up, my hand and penis a blur to my eyes. Up and down - I went as fast as I could. I was past caring and incapable of stopping. Something was finally happening! A new feeling had begun in my gut and grew quickly. I kept going, maybe feeling a bit of pain from how this new trick was chafing my tender flesh, but I was definitely feeling something new. And as the exquisite feeling grew, almost intolerably, but so bright and warm - pleasure I'd never known before - I knew I had to keep at it. Vaguely, I remember fearing I was going to pee if I didn't stop, but stopping was not an option. So I held in the pee, I held in the pleasure, clenched like my hand around my cock, clenched as long as I could, up-and-down, fast as could be, over and over... until I couldn't stop the release. My orgasm crashed over me. I kept whacking for more than a minute after the pleasure subsided then unwrapped my cramped fingers from my cock and dropped my exhausted arm to the bed beside me, panting and more sweaty than ever. I imagine I saw flashes of light behind my eyes. In general, memories of my youth are spotty, but that pulsing pleasure as I orgasmed the first time remains crystal clear. That first come remains so significant to me that I've striven for and failed to recapture its glory ever since. Luckily, great orgasms can be achieved and surpassed, over and over, so I don't mind trying! I doubt I ejaculated semen that first night - I looked for evidence the next morning. I definitely tried this again the next afternoon and the day after - I continued this way for weeks, achieving wonderful, powerful, orgasms. I also remember clearly when I gave up that odd 'pivot wank'. The morning following one of those times, I discovered I'd been flinging my semen through the room! Achieving orgasm this way caused it to fly about, drops went on the wall above my pillow, the floor past the foot of the bed, in my hair - and even my toes! - So after furtively cleaning it up before my brother could find the evidence, I set out to find a new and better way to come: It wasn't long before figuring out I could just piston my hand up and down my shaft a few hundred times! And this way, cleaning up the semen was more manageable, even if getting there took longer and the experience wasn't so 'explosive'! It was so nice to just lie in bed naked with the cum running down past my knuckle, coating the shaft, seeing the pearly droplets on my belly, then casually reach for the toilet tissue I kept by the bed (it's for my runny nose, bro! Allergies, I swear!).