“I Feared Having Sex Before I Was Old Enough To Go After It”

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Scene from Young Lady Chatterley

“I Feared Having Sex Before I was Old Enough to go After It”

I first started having sexual thoughts when I was around 9-years-of age. I didn’t know what went where, but know something went somewhere. I recall having erections nearly all day, and not knowing what to do about it. I never heard too much anti-masturbation rhetoric, or god is against self pleasure. The only thing stopping me was a lack of knowledge, vocabulary, and example.

Eventually, the sensation went away and I never noticed. Life just went on until about 5th grade. There was this girl named Mariam, and while she was not super pretty, or anything, she fit this mold of something I wanted. I didn’t know what it was, so I just watched her. She played sports, stood upright, and was not sorry for anything unless she caused undue harm to someone. Her stance, her expression, and her glasses just did something for me. I was shy near her and she never knew I existed. That lasted for a week and though I got used to her, I found myself even more mesmerized.

I didn’t understand a damn thing, and I was angry about it. I was so angry I could think straight. I wanted answer but didn’t know who to turn to. I wanted to know what was it about her from mid thigh to navel down that made me get hard enough to shed tears. Then, I stumbled onto something. I found something in the coffee table, and these much older kids, Eric and Tyrone took me deep into the woods to see the same kind of things. It was playboy magazine, and there, I saw it.

I saw girls’ pelvises, inner thighs, and smooth labia. It was all so pretty, interesting and such. It was strange though. I never got an erection, or was angered. I began trying to read what was written next to them, but it was mainly about hobbies, college studies, and earning money with a sexy body.

USELESS!

What was it about those bodies that seemed so right, and so in need of someone to do… SOMETHING… to them? I needed answers and these two guys, and my dad’s coffee table wasn’t anyone or anything I wanted to talk to. Then I saw it. I saw…. it. It was on TV, more importantly, cable TV.

It was called, “Lady Chatterley” and at the time, it blew my mind. I watched girls reach down a guy’s pants and do… something. They did something and the guy enjoyed it. Whatever it was, I needed it. I passed out asleep after 15 minutes into the movie. It was late night on a Friday with mom and dad gone for the weekend. I woke up and the TV was off. Even back then they had auto timers.

I woke up with such an erection I wanted to fight something. Voiding was difficult as nothing was coming out, and even if it did, it would hit the back of the toilet lid and make a mess I’d have to clean. I was angry because I had to stand there, super erect, in pain from having to pee, and pain from the erection. I thought about the playboy books to get my mind off things. My erection waned just enough to lean over and pee, and damn did I pee. When I got back to my room, I didn’t even play the Nintendo. I just sat on the edge of my bed wondering what to do. Then I got an erection and noticed it happened as I moved my thighs inside, and out. It triggered a memory.

The cable movie with the lush looking white lady that all the men wanted, was the memory triggered, and I wanted to know what she did down there with those guys. I touched myself; not for the first time, but for the first with a purpose. I learned to masturbate and it was awesome. The erection went down and I could leave it alone. No; there was no ejaculation. I just wanted the erection to end.

When I returned to school, I saw Mariam and over the weekend, I learned from even Emanuelle what the erection was for. Never saw how it was done, but I knew “it” when down there, from behind, and both were happy, smiling, and good friends. Normally that would stay in my head, but I felt that a lot of the scenes were wrong. I heard people talk about sex, and I never (not once) saw a happy face. Faces were serious, eyes focused, and wearing a smirk that expressed sheer pride. The guys I was around never spoke about sex unless it was loosely coded and short on words.

All the talk about sex and such filled my head and when I saw Mariam on the playground’s blacktop near the trailers were classes were held, I didn’t get erect, I got severely frightened. I thought about her bending over. I thought about how the women on TV looked from behind when they bent over. My first question was, “How can I reach her with her butt in the way?” It’s not flat like the women on TV. It had girth like Emanuelle. You could not see the mound from behind. For Mariam, I was not sure if that was true, but, I knew I was worried and when she walked to me, I nearly fainted in fear. She asked me to be on her kickball team.

I felt slightly better, but got messed up in my head when she grabbed my wrist to take me to the blacktop where the game was held. I heard the teacher say not to kick so hard, but I had no control over my power. Needless to say, “home run” but I had to go get the ball. I cleared the whole playground, something the older kids could not do. I used to watch them try. The ball was pitched to me later and instead of kicking it, I had a thought of what Mariam might look like bent over and I felt one-hundred percent defeated. They rolled the ball again and I kicked it lightly, jogged towards first base and was tagged out. Mariam and the pitcher looked confused. “What happened to your power?” Mariam asked. My thought was, “It died with my thing.”

The game ended, we won for 5 points as I gained control of my power but not my confidence. If I didn’t kick the ball so awkwardly, I’d have been tagged out each time. Mariam wasn’t around much after that. I was unsure of everything, and eventually, she was not in school, and my interests took to another girl; a girl who hated me and made sure everyone didn’t like me. By then, elementary school, 6th grade before the system removed it; it wasn’t bodies that interested me. That’s another story.

Thank you for reading.

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