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From: Archbishop Direction <archbishopdirection@hotpop.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Initial Explorations [m solo]
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Date: Mon,  5 Jul 2004 05:10:01 -0400
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Initial Explorations
by Archbishop Direction

I'm not sure if this is typical, but as long as I can remember I've
known that my cock had two distinct states.  I thought of the larger,
stiffer, and more infrequent one as "big," and the process of erection
as "getting big."

And as long as I can remember, I'd had a habit of playing with my erect
cock. Just innocent fumbling, touching, and squeezing; no rhythmic
stroking, rubbing, or thrusting. Sometimes when it was soft I would
touch and squeeze until it got hard, sometimes for hours until I became
distracted. It was a perfectly innocent thing, though I've also known as
long as I can remember that it's not something one does in front of
other people.

When I was three, maybe two and a half, I ran out of the house
bare-assed naked to walk to the corner store with my mother. She took me
back into the house and calmly explained that I needed to wear clothes
when other people might be around, and the lesson stuck. So I understood
that one doesn't touch oneself in front of others even before I
understood that one doesn't allow others to see one naked.

I didn't really recognize it as something fundamentally and essentially
sexual until the May after I turned twelve. I understood that a species
has to procreate to survive, and I grasped that sex and procreation were
somehow linked. I also had a very abstract and childlike understanding
of the sperm and egg concepts; that was about it.

A growing recognition that adults on the TV and the radio were talking
about sex all the time as were a few of my peers, along with the burning
curiosity associated with the beginnings of puberty, sent me to the
encyclopedia in the back of the junior high library one fateful day. The
encyclopedia, though I don't remember which it was -- perhaps the World
Book -- had a frank and well-written article about sex. A couple pages
of small text and an eye-popping illustration or two. I still remember
the thrill of discovery, and the pounding heart, the dry mouth, the fear
of the librarian wandering over, the smell of the books, and the
tightness in my briefs that accompanied it.

But I didn't make the connection between sex and masturbation until that
summer.

A couple months later, in bed very late one night when the entire house
was asleep, I was playing with my erect cock in bed like many other
nights.  But that night something was different.  Some hormone or
another had passed a critical peak and something very ancient and primal
had awakened in me. I felt a deep, throbbing need I had never known
before. I stroked and rubbed and squeezed and thrust, even sliding back
my foreskin to expose the hypersensitive head, something I generally
never did outside the shower.

For hours I silently grasped and fumbled, without the faintest idea of
what to do or how to do it, but driven and possessed with a terrifying
need I had never experienced. Suddenly something broke loose inside of
me; my cock jumped and thrashed of its own will, and a brief ripple of
panic flooded over me, instantly replaced with wave after wave of such
pure, intense pleasure that I had to bite my lip, so new and
overwhelming was the experience. No semen came out, and frankly I'm glad
- the experience, pleasurable as it was, was new and frightening enough
as it was. I had no idea what had happened to me or if it was normal,
but I knew I liked it.

In the morning I realized it was somehow connected with sex, even though
I knew nothing of masturbation or orgasm. I had been thinking about it
all day, about what the encyclopedia had said: the penis is inserted
into the vagina during sex until semen ejaculates into the vagina. My
cock was throbbing pretty much constantly with the thoughts, dry and
academic though they were. Fortunately my parents ran some errands and
did some shopping that afternoon, leaving me alone and unsupervised for
a couple hours as parents who trust their older children often do.

I'd reasoned that tightly squeezing my hand into a fist around my penis
might not be a bad simulation of a vagina, and even though semen didn't
come out maybe I just wasn't old enough for it yet. Maybe the feeling
I'd had the last night was the feeling you get when you ejaculate.

So I crawled under the bed to eliminate any possibility of discovery --
even if they came home early and walked in I could just claim I was
looking for something under the bed. I rolled over on my back and pulled
down my shorts, my pulsing cock jumping straight up as soon as it
cleared the waistband. I clenched my fist and then opened it slightly to
make a hole and tunnel about the width of my cock.

When I touched the bottom of my fist to the tip of my member, which was
twitching in anticipation and not just with my pulse, immediately that
same urgent drive I had felt the last night took over. Without a
conscious thought about it I thrust up at my hand, lifting my ass off
the floor. I was young, puberty was just beginning, and my fully erect
cock was still small enough to fit almost completely within my fist.
Overwhelmed with sensation, I shoved my hips shoved and jerked with a
spasmodic, unintentional, reflexive rhythm ruled by a feedback loop --
the faster I thrust the better it felt.

Within a minute or two of furious, wild thrusting my skinny thighs
started to tire and I was gasping for breath. I discovered that stroking
my fist up and down gave an almost identical feeling but let me lie
back, relax, and explore the strange and powerful experience washing
over me. Very soon I was coming again, my cock jerking and spasming
inside my tightly squeezed fist, my body twisting and writhing on wave
after wave of raw, unadulterated, shivering pleasure.

After it tapered and faded, I lay still in the afterglow. The thought
that I could do it whenever I wanted filled me with gleeful
anticipation, and the knowledge that it was a taste of what sex might
feel like slowed my cock's softening.

I'd recognized for the first time that my body had sexual reflexes and
responses, and that it was possible to trigger and control them myself.
I'd figured out what it meant to cum, and that I could make my body do
it whenever I wanted.

I had become a sexual being.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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