I have to laugh when I think about my clumsy, awkward beginnings at age 13.
When I was 13, three of us guys were at a friend's house building model airplanes, the kind with a motor that you could actually fly (or more likely crash). We got talking about masturbation, which I knew nothing about and none of us had done. Our friend knew more because he had an older brother. His brother was home, so we cajoled him to go in another room and jack off and show us what his cum looked like. He reluctantly agreed and, a few minutes later, returned to show us his cum on a folded newspaper. We all gawked at it and dared each other to smell to it. I remember it smelled weird, like ammonia.
Within a few months, I started waking up with a hard-on under me in bed. It felt amazingly thrilling and good, especially when I pulled my pajamas down and rubbed it against the sheet.
From the experience of wet dreams, I had learned that I didn't want to cum on the sheet, which might bring a comment from my mom. So I took the same technique into the bathroom, where I could lock the door and masturbate with a modicum of privacy.
My mom's bathroom had a fluffy pink rug and I would put a three-foot-long strip of folded toilet paper on the rug and lay over it to slide my hard penis against it, like in bed. That way, I could cum on the toilet paper and destroy the evidence. I remember vividly how the paper would get wet from my precum and my penis wouldn't slide on it any longer, so I had to repeatedly move to a dry spot.
When I told Butch who lived across the street that I had started masturbating, he said I needed to squeeze out all the cum or it would harden inside my dick. I followed his instructions to the letter. After a few days of that, I noticed red freckles had appeared on the head of my dick from all the squeezing. That scared the shit out of me!
ALMOST enough to stop beating off!
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