How it all began

I'll share some of my history, though I'll warn you these were not my religious/spiritual years. Through a sheet, my cousin taught me what masturbation felt like. The kid had more problems than any of us imagined. I didn’t want her to see me, especially after she had just told me about the enormous unit her most recent boyfriend had.
I was growing up in a small town in Iowa. I was a boy scout, went to a Lutheran church on Sundays, and even said my prayers. My parents loved me, treated me well, and made life wonderful in most ways. My cousin was in so many ways my opposite. Female, abused terribly by her mother, smoking on the sly, and sexually active to some degree. She told me all about it. I wasn’t sure I could believe it. She had come over that day with my Grandparents. Even though she only lived 30 miles away, I hadn’t seen much of her in life.
Over the next few months, I learned to jack off on my own. It became part of my nightly routine. I’d shove down the sheets and blankets, and go to work. Again and again sometimes, since it felt different each time. I wanted that feeling.
Middle School started, the world changed a bit. I learned to play the trumpet, and loved it. I had a lot of time in those days, and spent it in various ways. I played my trumpet, practiced the piano so grouchy old Mrs. Hill wouldn’t grump too much at my weekly lesson. I watched television—things that my family watched, like MASH, the news, The Love Boat, Fantasy Island, Dallas, and most of the sit-coms of the 80s. I still played in the sand box with my friend Nathan who lived one street over.
Nathan was one year younger than me, but I liked him. He and I played with matchbox cars in my sandbox, creating little worlds for our cars, coming up with “hot” names for girls we wanted to be our wives. Nathan and I discovered dirty magazines together. Both our Dads just happened to have them. I found them above my Dad’s closet in a storage area. Penthouse and a few Playboy magazines. I read them, no I poured over them. My favorite was a Penthouse with a man/woman scene. Nathan and I were staring at that magazine one day when I asked him if he wanted to see what my cousin showed me.
He said yes, and I whipped it out and showed him, along with my newly sprouted peach fuzz. He was impressed, since he didn’t have any. Sometimes, after checking out the magazines, we would both whack away.
By the end of the school year I was first chair saxophone player, a fact which probably made me prouder than any other at that point in my life. I had also started growing really fast. Oily hair, a few zits, puberty had struck. Summer brought some changes, including my cousin living with our family. Weekends were spent a couple hours away at the lake, boating, waterskiing, and hanging out with the other people who had trailers in the same old place. It was a strange old collection, with old bald (and fat) guys wandering around driving golf carts, along with some wig-wearing women. Some were nice, most liked to drink a lot. They were entertainment of sorts when the wind was blowing too hard to play on the lake.

I went to Boy Scout Camp at Camp Winebago that summer. My brother and some of his friends were there too. We slept in big green tents on cots, cooking our meals on the fire. Mosquitoes must have munched on us perpetually. We went canoeing, and went to various places in the camp to work on Merit Badges. At night they had camp fires with a program of sorts. After that we’d trudge back to our tents, and sleep, or be boys. I hung out with a few guys that were my age in the troop. They all seemed to be interested in dirty magazines and playing with themselves too. After being there 6 days and nights, we went home.

My Dad had been the real addict in the house. Multiple packs a day, his car and clothes must have stunk, but that was what we were used to in those days. He quit on New Years Eve 1981, miraculously. Dad was a busy guy, usually gone from 6:30 am to 6pm, a little less in the winter.

School started up again, I was in 7th grade. My world was opening up fast, and it was exciting. My first class every day was band, and there were both 7th and 8th grade kids in it. One morning I was in the back room where all the instruments were stored and an 8th grade girl stopped me in my tracks. She was taller than me, and I didn’t know her name yet. She announced “Mary Sampson thinks you are cute, do you like her?” Thus began my dating life.

In a small town in the midwest, high school athletic competitions are the center of the world. Every other Friday in the fall, every kid in the school system pretty much showed up at the Football field along with a lot of parents. I held Mary's hand at one game, sitting by her thinking it was so incredible. Then at the next game we walked around the field during half time. It was cool and breezy, but I didn’t feel that. I felt the heat of her hand on mine. We stopped on the south side, by the elementary school playground. We kissed, our tongues darting in and out, for three different brief intervals. We just smiled at each other, and walked back, holding hands. She had dark brown curly hair, that Irish complexion, and a cute rear end. Once the game ended, the world went back to normal, but I don’t think I slept a lot. I had made it to first base, kissing a girl. It felt so good.

Our relationship was brief, since I was flirting with another girl at the next football game when Mary was gone. I was replacing her company, a bad move. Her tall friend and others filled her in, and it was over as quickly as it started. Soon, football season was over, and winter sports had begun. In my town, that was basketball and wrestling. Friday and Saturday night always provided entertainment in the form of heading to the high school and watching competitions. I was a town kid, and had friends that were farm boys. They loved staying at my house overnight so they could go to these games with me. Kam was my favorite of this bunch. He was in to girls, and basketball. He came from a farm family with money, and would invite me out to go snowmobiling in the winter. Scout trips had taught me that you could “jack off” together for entertainment. Kam was a good Catholic boy though, and didn’t want to. I didn’t know why, and wanted to try something. Since we were sleeping in the same bed, I reached over and grabbed his pecker when he was pretending to be asleep. It already felt like a rock. I had no idea why—I just wanted to feel his unit. So I jacked him off. He never said a word, and didn’t return the favor. He was a big kid, and already hairy. I knew that from P.E. I guess you could say that was my first homosexual act. Thats not how I thought of it, but thats what it was.


The school year ended, and a new round of experiences started. First was a trip to “Band Camp” at a small little college in Western Ohio. It was in my genre, and I loved it. Different instructors, kids who liked it as much as I did, and staying in a dorm room with a friend from middle school. I was young enough that cafeteria food seemed like eating at a restaurant to me. Every night was pure teenage fun—a dance, held on a stage in a big auditorium. Lots of new girls, cute girls, and dancing to slow 80’s tunes. I loved it. The last night a big concert was held for all the parents, who then drove us 3 hours home.

Summer fun continued at Scout Camp, and at the lake, and I probably spent a lot of afternoons riding my bike across our small town towards the Swimming pool. I loved water, and that was where my friends hung out.

September came, and I started eighth grade. I thought I was hot stuff now that I and my buddies were the oldest kids in our school. We had lots of dances, and I was having fun. I danced with the same several girls a lot. They had a sex ed class towards the end of the year, and showed us some film/video about various topics. I was so turned on... (to be continued)