Sometimes You Have to do the Hard Work Yourself

Every boy's journey to adolescence goes through that phase, where they discover or are shown what masturbation is, and upon which the activity invariable and rapidly becomes habit, a routine part of their days and thoughts. I find it curious that most of the stories of discover here, usually involve an education from a friend or group slightly more experienced in things sexual. In my case it was entirely up to me. I literally discovered it by accident, but then again in hindsight, it's always just a question not of if, but only of when and how. I can't recall the exact day, but I do recall the context quite clearly. We'd taken an extended family trip in the spring, and I must not have been jerking off at that point since I don't recall having to sneak off for moments of attention to myself. But I know that by the end of that school year, I was a regular. So I can narrow it down a bit. It's funny how one can remember the intricate details, but not really know when it happened. I probably had pubic hair already, but I don't recall exactly. I did know about the whole concept of puberty, erections, semen, "playing with myself" and the like as taught at the local school, and likely my parents, though no specific "talks" stick in my mind. What I remember is, that one evening I happened to be reading some nondescript pulp novel about a somewhat apocalyptic future America. From the school library. No matter. At some point there was a passage about some protagonist or other and the woman or girl of the moment, and something about her lime green panties and an exploration of what lay within. Green panties. This is a trigger etched in my mind even now, and at the time it very arousing to my young self. This was the first time I recall very specifically being *aroused*, in that aching of the loins sort of way, as opposed to my usual contented interest and casual exploration of my frequent boyhood erections. I recall ending up in the bathroom, standing in front of a full-length mirror, unclothed and legs spread slightly apart, vigorously fondling my crotch and inner thighs with the lather of some shampoo, my pert little erection poking through the foam. But nothing came of it, literally or metaphorically. As aroused and as stimulated as I was, my technique (or persistence) was not up to the task that evening. A few nights later during my bedtime reading, I progressed further through the book and came upon another passage, that went into depth about a further moment of intimacy involving this woman and her panties, then those panties removed, and various deeds done at length and to fulfilment. I was already in bed, on my stomach, and recall rereading this passage many times accompanied by some purposeful grinding against the mattress. Enjoyable, but yet again unfulfilled.   The next morning I woke up from some hazy dreamy lucid phase of sleep. I was casually fondling myself, hand inside my briefs, in that indiscriminate way that bests fit the innocent euphemism of youth, "playing with myself". For how long, I'm not sure, but it continued for maybe 5-10 minutes and it was certainly quite relaxing an enjoyable. I recall a very well that my foreskin, penis, and scrotum were moist and sticky. Whether I'd had a recent wet dream, somehow already jerked myself off in my sleep, or was just leaking pre-cum from the ongoing stimulation, I don't know for sure.  In any event, after some time I got up and made it into the bathroom for my morning shower. I don't recall consciously deciding to continue fondling or stroking myself, but evidently once I got in the shower, I resumed the morning's earlier manipulations. My memory of the next minutes remains crystal clear: at some moment, seconds or minutes later, "vaguely enjoyable" went rather quickly to a new level of "distinctly pleasurable" and I caught my breath and opened my eyes. I remember looking down at myself and, with a certain level of mental detachment, observing my fingers encircling and furiously stroking my small but rigidly erect penis, end to end and with a distinct wet sound. This carried on for 10-20 seconds almost on complete auto-pilot, accompanied by an incredible and increasing feeling of tightness. Accompanied by a sensation I recall as flashes of bright light seeming to go off in my head, I continued to observe with curiosity that a good quantity of whitish fluid was emerging from my penis and collecting upon my gripped hand. As I watched my hips and crotch thrust rhythmically and inexorably, I recall my mind very rapidly going through these thoughts: That must be semen So that must mean I am having an ejaculation Apparently, to have an ejaculation, you must stroke your penis It feels indescribably and spectacularly good to have an ejaculation I shall most certainly be doing this again And that was that. In that shower, on that morning, I’d jerked myself off first time, and discovered and enjoyed that almost indescribably spectacular feeling of seminal release, and instantly knew I would do this again, and then on as purposefully and as frequently as possible. In fact, that same day, I repeated the experiment quite successfully -- visions of lime green panties firmly in mind -- during a second shower that afternoon which I'd conveniently justified having by intentionally getting into some mud outside. And again, that night in bed, after rereading those formative passages from the book a few times, sticky briefs then tossed to the side in a habit that lasted for years. As an adult, I have this peculiar recollection that somehow, despite having been aware of semen, erection, masturbation, and ejaculation, I had apparently never been informed that orgasm/ejaculation were not just abstract concepts, but could be a goal to pursue, or the natural conclusion of self-play. And most certainly not that this thing called "ejaculation" was the source/cause of a most supreme moment of very desirable physical enjoyment. But it took about 10-12 seconds to learn that lesson very clearly, so I guess I didn't really need the heads up. Oddly enough, I remember the next few days being frustrating, since my "abuse" of that intense first day, caused my penis to swell up like it was injured, and it was too tender to do anything with for a few days. Such are the perils of growing up, I guess. Once recovered, I quickly settled into routine of about twice a day (morning and evening) and eventually adding "after classes in the school bathroom" to the mix. It took about 2 more years until I was able to share the activity with anyone, but that's a story for another time.