My Self-discovery

The summer after I turned 15 was charged with hormones, and I didn’t really know what to do. My body had become awkwardly angular and I wasn’t quite comfortable sitting shirtless by the pool with all these changes, so I spent a lot of time at home. When I found myself alone, I’d be drawn to the Victoria’s Secret catalog — the lithe, tight models and their flawless, pert breasts only slightly covered with black lace got me feeling some kind of way. I was in awe of how hard I got — it wasn’t fully grown yet, especially in girth, but it was probably a little more than five and a half inches erect and I swear I could cut diamonds with it. Beyond this growing pipe between my legs, the VS models’ bodies made my whole body quiver with some unrealized need — I was hot, bothered, and totally on edge. I needed some release for these feelings but had no idea what that would be or how I could get there. So, after a viewing session, I’d go do something else and my erection would slowly subside. I kept doing this for a few months, because — despite the lack of satisfaction — being that hard just felt so good. It was fun.

Sex-ed at my very conservative, all boys school was limited to “don’t have sex,” and I had a pretty sheltered upbringing with no unsupervised internet, so I was at a loss for how things really worked. Still, I kept being drawn back to my little sessions in my bedroom with the Victoria’s Secret girls. And, I had figured out that in sex my penis would go inside, so I got to thinking about what might feel like that, and — lightbulb moment — I realized my hand can encase something.

It was after dinner one fall evening and I was upstairs in my room, and because the Victoria’s Secret catalog was out on my bed, I was hunched over it, oggling the girls, and I was so hard. I tucked my erection behind the waistband of my sweatpants and skulked down the hall to the guest bathroom to test this idea I had. 

Locking the door behind me, I situated myself in front of the sink. Fluorescent light glowed upon me from overhead — it wasn’t exactly an erotic setting, but I pulled my blue sweatpants down and they puddled at my feet. I’m glad that I also thought it’d be a good idea to pull my long sleeve T-shirt up, holding it against my upper chest with my chin. Imagining that a vagina wouldn’t be skin dry, I rifled around in a drawer and found a pink bottle of J&J baby lotion and squirted a little dime-size drop of it into my right hand. 

Placing my palm onto the tip of my erection, I folded my fingers around my hardness and then drew my hand down the shaft until it reached those sparse hairs at my base. A full body shiver washed over me as I realized that wow, this feels really good. Back up my shaft, over that sweet spot and ridge that feel so sensitive, and then back down again. Wow.

I don’t know why I tried it, but it seemed like a good idea so I stood up tall and lifted my pubescent scrotum onto the stone countertop — the coolness against my balls was an added fun sensation on top of this lubed stroking. I knew that what was going on was beyond the general good feeling of the erections I’d enjoyed to this point. Something was building in me — it was like I had low voltage electricity flowing, glowing, running from the tip of my penis down to deep behind my balls. The current sometimes radiated deep into my core behind my flat teenage abs. I was flustered. My breathing became ragged. I wanted to keep going. I needed to keep going, maintaining this steady stroke up and down my full rigid hardness. It felt so fucking good.

My first orgasm of my life ripped through me as that radiating current got turned all the way up. My coltish legs buckled at the knees and I had to use my left hand to brace myself against the counter to keep myself from falling as I kept thrusting with my right hand. My penis seized and my balls convulsed as they fired three pulses of my hot semen — the first landing high on my abs well above my belly button, the second on the countertop, and the third on my navy sweatpants sitting around my spindly ankles. I reveled in the afterglow as the last bit of cum oozed from my tip and down my still very hard shaft. I smiled at myself in the mirror as I caught my breath and looked at the delightful mess of my first ejaculation. 

Despite the breathlessness, and in this moment of thinking I’d become a man, I knew that I wanted to do this again very, very soon — and I wanted to make sure my friends knew about all I’d discovered, too.