Chapter 13: Oh Fuck!

The first time I ever played with myself was just after getting out of the tub at my parents’ home. I think I was about 14 years old. Nobody was home and I walked out toward the front door to climb the stairs to my bedroom.

I had nothing on and I was still wet. Oddly, who knows why, I started fiddling with my penis not even thinking about it or the fact I was all naked rounding the corner in front of the street side front door window. Suddenly something welled up in me and I felt really funny. I started ejaculating not knowing what was happening, scared stiff in all regards.

Stuff repeating shot out of my penis and went down the furnace vent lying flat on the floor below. It wasn’t by any means an attempt to aim it, the vent just happened to be there and it made the event that much more mysterious.

My legs got weak and I thought something terrible was happening to me. Nobody had ever explained anything like this to me, ever. I thought maybe I was dying and the stuff coming out had disappeared down, down into the depths of the furnace. “Hell raced through my foolish young mind.

I stood dead still for some time not acknowledging the fact I was buck naked standing just inside the front door with its upper panel of glass giving possible viewing pleasure as I stood there penis in hand. But I didn’t move as I just kept staring down that heater vent hoping for absolution. I wondered if I’d lost something important from my body. I was so shaken. Finally I vowed NEVER TO DO THAT AGAIN.

There was an old “Johnny Joke”. Teacher: “If you continue to do that you are going to go blind.” It was just a joke. Johnny told his teacher he would stop when he needed glasses. I already wore thick glasses, was rather near sighted like my dad. I wondered if he did that too much. Maybe that’s why he took up smoking.

Then I moved, still alive and peered out the front door window across the street at an angle to the old McCanta house, remembering. I’d stuck a child’s garden play set rake into Pat McCanta’s head when I couldn’t take his constant bantering anymore. His mother went berserk and I went home.

Later, a couple of years, his older brother Mike busted my lip with a good punch and my mother took it in stride kind of leaving me to deal with it. But now a family from Minnesota had moved in with 8 kids, also Catholics just like the McCantas. GAWD, why were there so many Catholics in the neighborhood? But anyway, the son, my age, Greg, had to sleep in the basement because there was no room upstairs with all of his siblings. He slept in a little room of 2X4 studs and some wallboard on the side away from him. He indeed slept in the belly of the whale. Turns out it was a good thing.

I remembered when I spent time at his room of sorts. He was usually sneaking a cigarette, talking about how cool he thought he was, lying on his bed and more times than not playing with his penis.

He had a guitar and I was always wanting to play folk music. It was the early 60’s Hootenanny era. That’s an example of my overt shy nature utterly driven desiring to sing in public, weirdly so.

But he really admired his erection like it was his best friend, frequently noted as he smoked, one hand on and the other hand guiding the cigarette. I endured watching him, wanting to borrow his guitar.