The First Time I Ejaculated Was Terrifying!

I was horrified the first time I ejaculated. Pure shock and terror. Don’t get me wrong, I’d had plenty of orgasms at that point. I started getting them when I was shimmying up trees at 10 or 11 years old. Something about the tension in my whole body and my cock rubbing the side of the tree – it didn’t take me long. 

Going back a few years, when I was 12, I realized thinking about women and women’s naked bodies made my cock hard. Just like when I climbed trees and got that awesome feeling. Wow! This was what sex felt like!

A year later, I found my dad’s stash of four Penthouse magazines.  Every Monday after school, when I was home by myself for the entire afternoon, I’d take the magazines to my room and lock the door. I took of my clothes and read the letters. I’d touch my cock and rub it gently until it got hard. 

Then I’d turn the pages to the pictures. I’d move them to the corner of my bed and wrap my legs around the bedpost. A small pillow went between my cock and the bedpost. I’d reach up with my arms and slowly do pull-up motions. I’d breath heavier, the sensations around my cock would start, and in two or three minutes, I’d feel that release of ecstasy.  I’d freeze still as I felt my cock throb against the pillow while I caught my breath. Finally, I’d lay on my back on the floor as I watched my cock deflate back to its normal size. Don't ask me how this worked in my young mind, but I still didn’t equate it with masturbation.

Ten minutes later, I’d go again. In the two hours I had the house to myself, I could make myself cum at least three times. I’ve I’d seen a cute classmate in an especially sexy outfit, and was mad horny by the time I got home from school, I’d squirm and pull my way up the bedpost to a good four satisfying orgasms.

Still, I never equated this with sex, or even that I was masturbating. I know it’s weird, but in my adolescent mind, I was just feeling good from looking at pictures. Really, I was just exercising and strengthening my upper body.

Until one day when I was probably 14 and a half.

I had seen Hilary in some very low-cut jeans sitting in the desk in front of me. So low cut, that when she leaned forward, and I happened to look up, I caught a glimpse of the top band of her black underwear. Oh, to be 14 and that’s all it took. A whole one inch of fabric! But it was the last class of the day, and with that image in my head, and the anticipation of my Monday afternoon opportunities, I was nearly hard by the time I got home.

It didn’t take long this time. I stared at a picture of a penthouse model with blondish-brown hair, just like Hilary’s. The model had a massive bush framing her pussy; I imagined that’s what Hilary’s pussy looked like.  In a minute flat, my cock was throbbing and pulsing to climax.

I laid down on the floor and – holy shit! What is that! Several long strings of white fluid were dripping down the pillow. My cock had some all over it. No! Did I just…

…of course I did. Suddenly I looked on with horror and revulsion. I had just ejaculated. There was no denying it, I had sex…with myself. My parents had me go to church every week, I was well aware of the sins of masturbation and losing your virginity.  Somehow, in my mind at that age, it wasn’t sex, it wasn’t masturbation, it wasn’t anything harmful, as long as I didn’t ejaculate.

Looking back on this years later, this is all really funny. But I was terrified my family would find out. I quickly had to hide the evidence! I searched around my room trying to figure out what to do. I eventually found a sock to wipe it up with. I could smell the distinct smell of semen.  What if someone else smelled it? They would know what I did! So I sealed the sock in a small plastic bag, and hid it behind a bookshelf in my room. I was never going to do that again!

Except of course, the next Monday rolled around. What would it hurt to look at the magazines again? The urges overtook me. I couldn’t use the pillow again, I can’t soil that up with my cum. So I found out that with my cock directly contacting the wood of the bedpost, it only made the sensations…way stronger! This time I was able to pull away at the last moment, and all my semen landed on my lower stomach. I made it to the bathroom and wiped down with the toilet paper. The evidence was easily flushed.

And so I continued every Monday to hump my bedpost. It was a couple years later when I finally figured out I could use my hand. Such fond memories.