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Learned in Grade School

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: Admin Posted on: 01 May 2003 1 comments
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It was special to see my story "Curious Neighbor Girl" posted and need to follow up with another story. Sad to say, my sex education stopped when her family moved out of state. Not until half a dozen years later my sister was born and Mom showed me that she did not have what boys have -- and that was it, until my 7th grade. Then things began to get interesting and exciting, but the story of sex seemed complicated when an 8th grade boy explained that my Dad fucked my Mom. As a farm boy having seen the bull ride the cows, the boar ride the sows, and the roosters ride the chickens, the tom cat ride the female cats, the male dog run his shaft into the female dogs, my first reaction was "No. Dad wouldn't do such a thing." Our bull really had a long shaft and when I pulled back the skin when our dog had his shaft out, there were hard lumps on either side that would not let it slide back in if we held it long enough so that everything would dry. He'd run around with everything hanging out and tried to climb the washline poles and trees all over the yard until it relaxed and slipped back in! Back to my story, playing with my penis was fun and learning was fun.

Now in the mid-West half a century ago in the days before consolidation, there were little one-room country schools every few miles and ours had only a few pupils by the time I was an upper-grader: 2 upper grade boys and 3 lower grade girls. To make matters worse, out teacher was an old lady and heavy-set. So, ball sports were out of the question. The girls played paper dolls at recess and we boys roamed the school yard for something to find. Guess what! Under the porch, we discovered an access hole that led under the school building because several cement blocks were missing. So we crawled under the school building where our teacher could not follow to monitor our activities! She didn't like the idea of us boys "playing" by ourselves, but we had the entire area to ourselves and that's where I learned about what manhood is all about. Well, there and in the old outhouse.

We unzipped our pants and pulled out our penises and the older boy explained that by "rubbing" or "pumping" long enough, some white stuff would come out that he called "love juice." It was disappointing that I couldn't get anything out for many times and the older boy got some out every time and bragged how he had yellow spots all over his bed sheets at home. Eventually I did get something out and whispered excitedly, "Hey, look! I did it! See!" (I still enjoy having my wife watch when she strokes me or when I stroke myself until I ejaculate!) I can't remember how many times or how many weeks it took of rubbing and pumping to get out my first drop of white love juice, but it felt so good in my lower body area and I thought I had become a man. Needless, to say, I just couldn't get enough pleasure then. (I still enjoy it 3-5 times per week, alone and with my wife. A couple of times a month is enough for her -- but that's another story). I could hardly wait for recess times when we could literally run to the outhouse or crawl under the school, unzip, pull out our "toys" and start playing. When I succeeded in oozing out a drop, I would touch it with my finger to feel how slick it was and rub it around the head of my love wand. The "love juice" would make my hard purple head really shine and I was so proud of it -- and still am, now that it has grown to full manhood. (See "Curious Neighbor Girl" mid-January, 2003 for details.) The older boy would work his love wand out of his shorts during the day in broad daylight during school time and stroke through his jeans until he had a wet spot showing along his pant leg!

In the outhouse, we carved out a long slit where the siding boards joined so we could watch the girls doing cartwheels. While their legs were up in the air, their skirts would fall down and the entire lower half of their body would be exposed, except for their pink or yellow or blue panties. Because we had something visual to actually see, we pumped like wild and shot our loads all over instead of catching the love juice. Since we had a female teacher, nobody except the County Health Nurse once a year ever checked the premises. Of course, when we had monthly community gatherings we would be more discreet and let those globs dry so the older men wouldn't notice. Those were exciting times watching the girls do cartwheels and I have a raging erection now as I remember, but will keep on typing with both hands so I can get this story to you sooner than if I were to stroke with one hand and type with the other.

In winter, the two of us boys climbed up into the attic by way of coat hooks that were strategically screwed into the wall under the trap door. Then I learned why when I was in the lower grades, the older boys and girls used to climp up there but would not let us lower graders climb up there to see what they were doing. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that the 2 boys, one older and one younger, and the 2 girls had lots of sex shows and play times day after day and recess after recess! Several times in the course of that winter when we climbed up into the attic, the other boy invited his sister up. We would both unzip our jeans, pull out our penises, and start pumping. Then he would order his young sister to pull down her jeans and her panties so we could both see her "crack" as they called it. The other boy was starting to grow some hair, but I had not yet and she had no hair around her "crack." I couldn't see anything exciting about her body because I did not know that girls could have fun also. He saw something very exciting about seeing her body because he really pumped wildly and had to catch his love juice when it shot out. I went along with the activities, but it would take me longer to get my drop of white "love juice" out. She just leaned back on her elbows with her pants pulled down and kept looking at us quizically, first one and then the other. If we had only known that she had something exciting "down there" that was capable of being tickled also, we could all have had much more fun watching each other get excited! But in those days, parents did not teach their children about the "birds and the bees," so children had to learn about it from each other. One time he suggested that we "pump" each other, but then said, "Yours isn't very big." I was proud of what I had and did not like his put down. To this day, I still prefer reading SoloTouch stories M/F and F/M, rather than M/M.

My bedroom did not have a lock on the door, but our outhouse had a hook on the inside, so I spent a lot of time playing in there at home all summer long. I spent such long times in the outhouse that Mom would ask what took so long and I always gave some lame answer because she was very conservative. Somehow the privacy of fun gave me the impression that making my own fun was dirty or naughty. I wish my parents had taught me more. That impression stayed with me long into my married life, even though I enjoyed self-pleasuring myself in between the times my wife was interested. Not until half a dozen years ago when my massage therapist asked, "What's wrong with masturbating?" did I re-think my stance and realized that all these years I have been having guilt feelings for nothing. The dictionary defines masturbation as "defiling by hand." I don't believe that at all and don't like to use the word. The good feeling of self-pleasuring one's self to orgasm enhances one's self-esteem and self-image. When a person feels put down, a person can build himself or herself back up by "tickling" as I call it! On a bad day, a person can feel good. On a good day, a person can feel even better. On a great day, a person can feel on top of the world! 'Nuff for now. Happy pleasuring!