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Typical day at 13

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: jacknmac Posted on: 13 Jul 2003 2 comments
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Ah, to have the great outdoors again.The July air is heavy with the sickeningly sweet fragrance of honeysuckle growing along the sides of the path. I delight in chasing and disrupting the dust devils as they prance across the newly plowed fields. Rivulets of sweat trace lines down my dust covered legs and bare feet. Even the birds have stopped their singing and sought shelter from the heat in some shady place. I run down the path toward the small stream, which meanders through the woods from springs back in the hills. Looking around to make sure I am alone I remove my ragged cut-off overalls and toss them over a branch at the streams edge, rinse the dust from my legs and splash water over my chest and thighs. The water is surprisingly cold and my immature member withdraws into my body looking not unlike a small dried apple. It is a source of curiosity that a part of my body can undergo such significant changes in just a few moments (sometimes at the most inconvenient times). Of course I find it very pleasant without really knowing the reason for the sporadic transformation. As the sun warms me my little dried apple blossoms to its freestanding state once again. I revel in the freedom of running through the forest free of encumbrances with my erect penis slapping against my stomach with each stride. I wind my way through the thicket at the edge of the stream and up the hill to one of my private spots comprised of large outcroppings of limestone surrounded by a ring of small pine trees. The smooth stone is warm against my bare skin as I lie down and watch the parade of clouds drifting by bringing brief moments of shade in their passing. I run my palms over my chest and nipples and down to my stomach lightly brushing the end of my penis, which responds by lifting off my stomach in anticipation of the imminent attention to which, at 14, it has become accustomed. I trace the under side of the shaft with the tips of my fingers and fondle my testicles hanging loosely in the heat of the noonday sun. Beginning at the base I wrap two fingers and my thumb around it slowly drawing the loose skin up toward the head and down again with increasing frequency until I feel the urge beginning to peak and then slow down until it subsides. I have become very good at pushing just to the edge and then backing off thereby maintaining a high level of arousal for even several hours. But today I slip beyond the brink on the third cycle of stroking and relaxing. As the delicious sensations begin at the tips of my fingers and toes and rush through my body coming to a focus in the pit of my stomach I pump faster and faster until streams of pearly fluid surge in several quick spurts onto my stomach and chest. Every muscle in my body is tensed as my back arches and my hips thrust involuntarily skyward until the last spasm subsides and the flow diminishes to a few glistening drops which roll off my stomach onto the limestone. As the passion subsides I begin to feel the familiar twinges of guilt that took years to overcome after being bombarded all my life with dire warnings of the consequences of the "sins of the flesh". It was not until I started elementary school that I was taught that touching myself "there" was not acceptable behavior...especially while reading The Little Engine Who Could with Miss Arnold sitting beside me. She wasn't indignant about it at all, gently taking my arm and pulling my hand out of my pants and whispering, "That's not nice.". I was at a loss as to what she meant for a few minutes but got the message that fondling myself under the desk was something that I should take care not to do...at least in her presence. I had never thought of it as wrong and it couldn't have been the reading material because The Little Engine Who Could wasn't that erotic...even at the age of six. This was one of those moments in life that become indelibly etched into one's memory along with other seemingly insignificant occurrences that can affect our lives forever. This episode, rather than diverting my attention from "that thing between your legs", only led to increased but more discreet curiosity and exploration...and occasional embarrassment. For many years its behavior was totally unpredictable and it had no consideration for the appropriateness of circumstances. Many hours were spent in school praying that I not be called upon to read in front of the class. The more I worried about it the more determined it seemed to cause me embarrassment in front of the whole school. I even tried controlling it once by tying a string around it and then around my upper thigh but after a short time the increasing discomfort convinced me that that was not a viable solution to the problem. The challenge then was to untie that stubborn knot. The more I worked on it the tighter it became and "that thing" certainly wasn't doing much to make the job any easier! To further complicate matters other boys kept coming into the bathroom and I dared not ask for help for fear of certain ridicule.I was also very self-conscious about the differences between them and me in that area. I was circumcised and they were not. Nor were theirs' swollen most of the time or not that I had noticed. I was convinced that something was seriously wrong with me down there. I was perspiring profusely by the time I got the knot undone but rather than being grateful for it's freedom and returning to an inconspicuous existence, it seemed determined never to be tied down again. Unfortunately, I had not yet learned how to properly tame this independent little appendage. But time passed and one day standing in the tobacco barn I accidentally fell into the traditional up and down stroking method for the first time. This was a great improvement in sensation! The longer I continued the more pleasant it became and I was powerless to stop. It was with total surprise and consternation that I was soon overwhelmed by my first ejaculation, which left me weak in the knees and fearful that I had done some serious damage to myself. I worried all night but didn't dare tell anyone and the next day my penis was very puffy and a little sore. By the second day the puffiness and fear had subsided and I decided to try it again to see if it was a one-time event. And it certainly wasn't...in fact, I became so obsessed that I'd sometimes rub the skin off in spots and would have to impatiently abstain for several days until it healed. It was some time before I understood exactly what was happening but since there seemed to be no adverse effects and the pleasure was so extreme that I routinely indulged three to eight times a day always being alert for any opportunity to engage in my hobby. Most of this time I didn't know if I was the only person to engage in the activity since no one ever talked about it, at least not in my presence. It was a tremendous relief when I came across a magazine article at the library which stated that it was natural and normal and there were no physical dangers inherent in the practice (other than blisters!). I was further relieved to read that it was impossible to do it too much. I still didn't talk about it with anyone though and the knowledge had little effect on the need for or the frequency of my self-pleasuring but most of the feelings of guilt went away and I finally realized that I wasn't a bad person.