For many of us who grew up in the 50’s and 60’s, sex was a taboo subject that was never talked about in the home. Certainly my family, as conservatively religious as any, was no different. My parents divorced when I was 8, and so it was left to my mother to explain the facts of life. The “talk” went pretty much like this: “When a man and a woman like each other, they sleep in the same bed.” That was it. When I hit puberty around age 13, I had only the barest ideas about the facts of life, and while I didn’t know much about sex, not too surprisingly I some how had learned that it was “dirty”. So, when I look back at that sheltered boy of 13 with the too rigid sense of right and wrong, I’m still a bit puzzled about how all that happened could have happened.
I remember the first time I got an erection. I was in the hospital because of a kidney infection. I woke up one morning and felt funny “down there”. I looked and was shocked, a bit confused, really scared to see my penis was hard and sticking straight up. I quickly looked away feeling vaguely guilty. I also needed to pee, and I could only think that maybe my penis had filled up with pee. Maybe as a side effect of the kidney infection – seemed reasonable. I had no idea. I was much too embarrassed/scared to say anything to anyone. Besides, it quickly subsided, and the funny feeling went away. It didn’t happen again while I was in the hospital, so I figured I was all better.
After I got home from the hospital, though, over the next couple of weeks (or longer) I started getting erections more and more frequently. Not just in the morning – it didn’t matter the time of day. There was always a sensation like I wanted to pee, and I continued to think that, somehow, as a side effect of the kidney infection my penis was now filling up with pee. No way did I want to go back to the hospital, and no way was I ever going to talk about it with my mother. It was just not something I could talk about with anyone. Especially since there was also a strange urge to touch myself which deeply ashamed me. I wouldn’t even look “down there” when I got an erection. Partly because I was afraid, partly because – well, I don’t really understand what my thought processes were at the time. I just hoped that I’d get better.
Then I discovered the Playboys under my brother’s bed. I had never seen a photo of a naked woman. I was breathless, amazed, stunned looking at those pictures. It was Wrong to look but…naked women! With breasts! And nipples! I didn’t really understand why looking at the pictures gave me an erection or why the erection wouldn’t go away like the other times. Except, that, now I found that I liked how it felt. I discovered that if I rocked back and forth a little, my penis would rub inside my pants which really, really felt good. I don’t remember how long I sat there looking at those Playboys – a long time. Long enough that my erection had started becoming very painful.
I didn’t know what I was feeling. That rocking back and forth had only made that urge to touch myself more over whelming than ever. Which I knew was Wrong. But, then, I thought, “If I keep my pants on, I’m not really touching me, just the pants!” The touch became a sort of rub, because it did feel good and made the ache feel a little better and sort of rubbing wasn’t really that Wrong anyway. Though the pants were tight and confining and, really, that’s probably why my penis hurt. Clearly, the best thing to do would be to take them off. Besides, I had underwear, so I still wouldn’t really be touching myself. I was very pleased with my logic.
The “sort of rub” became more than just sort of. The underwear, however, was kind of chafing, so… I hadn’t really looked at myself before, and I was surprised and fascinated (I knew that was Wrong) by how swollen my penis was. And scared – there was a clear liquid leaking out. That couldn’t be normal. I was consumed with guilt, but I couldn’t stop. I laid back on the bed, imagining it was one of the centerfolds touching me. I rubbed up and down, started squeezing the head. I felt something start to grow. It was so wonderfully intense – a sweet, exquisite pressure kept building, building. Suddenly, I felt a deeply physical, pulsing – my penis began to throb. My eyes flew open in fear with the panicked thought I was going to pee on the bed.
I don’t actually remember getting off the bed. I remember sort of crouching next to the bed, my knees giving way, and watching this stuff that kept shooting out of my penis. It felt so good to keep squeezing/rubbing, that I didn’t care that it was getting on me, the floor, seemingly everywhere. Until I was finished. I was horrified, terrified. Not only had I been really BAD, but clearly the kidney infection had gotten worse. I made a solemn oath never to do that again! An oath that lasted all of two days.
Fortunately, I did learn that I didn’t have an infection nor was I BAD. How I learned that will be the subject of my next post. I did feel mildly guilty about breaking that oath, though. It was a solemn oath after all.

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