My Sex and Violence

At some point, I figured out how to jerk off. I think C told me about it.

When it comes to a lot of the fundamental biological and social things in life that regular kids just sort of understood, I was really slow on the draw. So slow in fact that I probably wouldn’t have figured out how to eat if I hadn’t seen someone else do it first. When it came to sex, I was particularly clueless. Here’s a conversation I had with my dad when I was nine.

Dad: blah blah blah gays.

Me: What are gays?

Dad: Guys who stick their dicks in their asses.

At this point, thanks to my father’s ESL semantics, I imagined a guy trying to stick his penis in his own butt. I had no idea why anyone would WANT to do this. But there were many things I didn’t understand about grownups. As I think back to how oblivious my dad was to the profound confusion he was causing in his 9 year old son, I have to smile.

Me: Boy. Gays must have pretty long dicks.

Dad: No, they must have pretty big asses. (laughs)

Now I was even more confused. Why would you need a big ass for your dick to reach around your balls. Would your big ass somehow reach around your balls and meet your dick half way? It never crossed my mind that two guys could do that TO EACH OTHER.

Like I said, I was slow on the uptake about a lot of things. But once I got exposed to a good idea, like jerking off for example, boy, I ran with it.

It wasn’t long before I was going at it every night in the shower. At first it was just scratch scratch, touch this, touch that, see what happens. Eventually though, I got the hang of it and had my first orgasm. This intense feeling unlike anything I had experienced before worked it’s way throughout my entire body until I felt a kind of neurological “pop.” Immediately after recovering from the experience, the first thought that crossed my mind was: “So this is what all the fuss is about. This is the ultimate pleasure we humans are built to experience. Damn.” On a grand existential level I have to admit, I was disappointed.

But like a good trooper I kept at it, and like anything you work really hard at, eventually I got good. There was one problem though. As intense and enjoyable as the orgasmic sensations were, nothing would actually come out. I first became self conscious of this one morning on the school basketball court after summer break. A lot of bad things happened in the mornings on that basketball court before school, now that I think of it. But those are stories for another day. This day, the Jesuits were lining us up for class when Rob, one of the popular kids, said:

Rob: Dude, this summer, I started jerking off.

Me: I started jerking off too.

Rob: I came. Did you?

Me: (lying) yeah.

Rob: Cool huh?

Me: Yeah.

I hated myself for lying, and even more because I was lying to prove something to someone. But the insecurity Rob had so easily triggered inside me was more powerful than an 800 pound gorilla. So I lied just the same and loathed myself for it.

Soon it wasn’t long before the lying, and rest of my life, seemed like a distraction from what had become my main purpose: scouring the house for any new hidden porn stashes my dad might have acquired, and jerking off in the shower to see if I could ejaculate. I must have stolen every piece of porn the man ever brought home. To his credit, he never said anything to me about it. I whacked off like a madman for decades. At least that’s what it felt like. Still, nothing came out and the peer pressure was building up. By now, my friend C was also boasting about how he was ejaculating. I was getting worried. At least my auxiliary friend Coco hadn’t ejaculated either yet. So by comparison, I wasn’t a total loser.

Then one evening in my room, I locked the door, arrayed all my penthouse magazines in a fan on the floor in front of me, knelt down, and went at it. Sure enough, after a little work, the familiar orgasmic sensation engulfed my body. When I recovered however, something was different. I looked down and to my surpise, on the tip of my peepee, was a little itty bitty drop of white liquid. I had managed to ejaculate. A feeling of immense pride washed over me as I carefully hid the magazines under my bed and went to the bathroom and washed my hands. I was now a man.

Sometimes, I’ll thinkg back to the Penthouse Pet that did it for me that day, and imagine her now. She’s middle aged. Probably has a few kids, maybe she’s married. She and I will (hopefully) never meet. But man, I’m glad she existed.