Sticking it Back
There are a few detailed, early sexual experiences I had that I want to tap on with the idea in mind that they may have been the kind of “formative” that would indicate issues I am still fiddling with even at this point:
Not Your Mother’s Shampoo
Before I hit puberty, I obviously wanted to do something with my dick. This is what I came up with: I got an old Johnson & Johnson’s shampoo bottle (“No More Tears”). I kept it in my room and would play with my balls until I got half-hard, stick in the bottle, and hold it there until I pissed. I would hide it on the floor behind my dresser, occasionally smell it (an odd mixed reaction), and then piss into it more.
Bed-Side Manner
When I was about twelve, I had a routine physical to clear me to play basketball. During the hernia check I got really hard. I remember focusing on the dark hair on Dr. Young’s arms, coming out of his lab coat, and the hands disappearing under my balls. I think he coughed more than I did. He then called my mother in and - in front of me - asked her to tell me that a hernia check was not a sexual event but an impersonal, medical process. I remember her turning to me a little wide-eyed and repeating what he said and asking me if I understood. I nodded.
The Unholy Book
Not long after, I was in my bed at night - summer, window open - reading Stephen King’s Salem’s Lot. If I remember right, I was at a scene where a male vampire creeps up behind a priest. I was reading out loud and kept looking up through the window, half-expecting to see someone there (even though my room was upstairs). The writing was paced well so that the sentences became shorter and terser as the vampire got closer. I was on my stomach, and the fitted sheet had snapped free of the corners. I started rocking down and into the bed with the pace of the words, and when the vampire sank his teeth into the priest’s neck from behind, I came all over the bed. Well, I can still remember that I thought my stomach had fallen out of my belly because that was the absolute first time I ever came. My first thought was that I had “the AIDS” (It was early 80’s.) and I spent the next month waiting to die.
Green Thumbing
After I didn’t die, I, of course, wanted to do it more. We were living on a farm and I had a brother close to my age that I mostly wanted to escape from. The house seemed crowded, so I got out. I remember being sent out to pull corn for dinner and having the bright idea to shuck an ear, wrap the husk and silk around my dick - hidden in the cornrows - and jerk off into it. There was that nerve-wracked sense of being caught with my shorts down in the garden that added a little more to the experience. A theme was started where I would walk off into the woods and hump the moss at the base of trees, even the colder, softer dirt beside the creek. (Aside: I had an over-active imagination and often talked to plants and animals, whatever, in the woods but it never occurred to me that they were engage-able while I was grinding against them.)
... These stick with me, seem like initial stabs or gestures with themes I am still slogging through. While there have been newer, more specific developments, yeah, I like to think these must have some of the most basic grains of truth in them, even if (thankfully) I don't yet fully know what they mean.