Shimmying up swing poles

The intensity of trauma that surrounded my finding orgasm began at age 11. If I emphasize how that experience damaged my relationship with my mother, I hope that doesn't make me a "mama's boy." She had given me "Growing Up" at age 10, so she knew I would begin to ask questions. I'd had sexual feelings in the 3rd grade but didn't know what they were. Shimmying up swing poles at recess made me a queer duck who would race to the swings and not take one. ("Nerd" and "geek" were words that hadn't yet been coined.) The erectile and arousal experience did exist, but I didn't tell anyone and I made it a "private science project" to analyze what I was feeling at every recess and all recess long. (I went home for lunch -- 2 blocks away.)

"Unction" is what I now call the highly intense feeling in my groin as I hung like a sloth under the cold steel bars (even in winter). It had a "connection" between my tiny twig and the connecting tissue in my mouth under the tongue. Both felt similarly tight and wonderful! That "unction" made me "tongue-tied," but nobody spoke to me as I hung there anyway. I didn't identify that sought-after feeling as sexual until I learned to masturbate at age 11.

My cousin, 2 years older than myself, and 2 of us other neighborhood boys, showed us his phallus in the chicken coop that summer of '43. It was huge and surrounded by scraggly red hair. He began to demonstrate the "substitute f***ing" he did with a whole fist, but my mother -- who couldn't trust my cousin out of sight -- called me from the house.

That night we all tried what we had been shown. I went right on through the "unction" stage into a terrifyingly attractive, intense feeling that made me stop and ponder this new "private science project." Then I went back to the "unction" and said, "Aha!" We boys in the neighborhood learned the method with two fingers and a thumb immediately. I stopped maybe six times before the cataclysmic and breath-taking first orgasm surprised me.

I see this is getting too long. [Not at all! More is better! -Ed.] I've experienced a whole life's interest in masturbation: "circle jerks" (observed in one of those by an older sister), "made-up myths," a pre-puberty exam and ostracism. I was interrupted in the joyful process by a sponsored girl exchange student in my more recent life. I would like to tell it all in installments someday.