My First Orgasm

I am not even sure how old I was.  I was rather immature and sex was something we simply did not talk about at home or school.   I think I was 13 when this happened. I had long been obsessed with being naked whenever I could. That meant trying however possible to stay at home alone when my parents went somewhere like the grocery store. It was reasonable. I mean, what kid wants to go to the grocery store with their parents when at that age? As soon as they'd leave, off would come my clothes. 

Another obsession of mine was the thought of being given a spanking. Now I had been spanked. Like, for real, pants down over the knee spanked on the bare butt until I was crying, spanking. I had been spanked in school and I had been spanked at home. While I never thought I was being abused and I always knew that I had earned the spanking, I was terrified of getting them. So why I had it in my imagination about getting them, I do not know. But imagine I did.  I simply enjoyed being naked and pretending that I was being spanked although I hated the reality of getting a spanking. 

So one day, I was going to be in my very favorite position to pretend I was being spanked. I had a pillow, yes, a particular pillow. I would position it on the corner of our upstairs staircase. Right at the point where the rail turned to the left into a shorter rail, before turning to the right and becoming the rail that led downstairs. The pillow was in place. I took my pants and underwear down and climbed up, positioned myself on top of my pillow. It simulated what it felt like being across my dad's lap. So now I started to let my mind wander. I was picturing myself getting a spanking (which in all likelihood I had in the past one to four months). I imagined my actual spanking experiences: dad spanking me. I imagined my principal spanking me over his knee. I imagined being spanked by the father of a friend. 

Through these imaginings, I was also picturing people watching. I was trying to remember the feeling of pain on my bare butt. I was picturing myself crying. And then all of a sudden something started cramping in my lower stomach. Or no, it was my balls. There was a sensation that I couldn't describe. I had no frame of reference for it. The only word that came to mind was "rupture." I had ruptured myself. The ache intensified and I quickly hopped off of my spanking perch. The pain didn't go away, though. I was crouched over. Something thick and hot shot out of my penis onto my inner left thigh. And again. It was this whitish, grayish...something. How was I going to explain this? I ruptured myself while pretending I was being spanked and balancing on a pillow on the corner of the staircase. My heart was racing.

Then the ache faded. Slowly. I was able to stand up. I cleaned up the mess on my thigh, pulled my pants and underwear up, put the pillow away and swore that I was never, ever going to do that again. I had been given a second chance. 

But what the heck was that? What happened?  A little sex ed would have been nice.

A few days later, me and my pillow were back. I wanted to see if I could make whatever happened happen again. Eventually I heard the word masturbate, and I knew that was exactly what I had been doing. Then pretty soon I was picturing being on top of a girl instead of being spanked. And I learned to put something on the floor after my mom asked if I had spilled something.