TMI Thursday: My First Time

In the seventh grade, I had two really good friends: Josh and Shannon. Shannon was Josh's cousin, and one night, Josh had both of us over for a sleepover. It was awesome. We played Nintendo. How fucking cool was that?

Josh's dad had an impressive collection of Playboys. Fortunately for Shannon and myself, they were stashed in Josh's closet. Brilliant move, Mr. Josh's Father. This meant that, while Josh was playing Nintendo, Shannon and I perused the glossy pages of airbrushed sex presented before us.

Eventually, we got around to the topic of masturbation, which was odd, considering we were in seventh grade and, well, talking about shit like that meant you were gay. And, as we were currently perusing Playboys, that meant we certainly weren't gay, right? Anyway, a couple of guys had been caught jerking off in the bathrooms at school (one guy was a repeat offender!), and we talked on this while idly flipping through the good parts of the magazines (the articles, of course). Suddenly, Shannon leaned over to me and, in a conspiratorial tone, said, "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"I swear," I said, in the same tone. I think I suspected what was to come next.

"I've done it," Shannon said. "A lot."

Gasp and swoon! Well, I held onto the secret for...what...twenty years now? I learned a lot about Shannon that weekend that I probably didn't want to know (you know, kind of like you guys and Thursdays around here!), like how he had phone sex with my cousin Jamie, and how he would get boners when leaning back in his seat in Social Studies. One of the most uncomfortable moments of my life happened when he leaned back one day during class. A few minutes later he looked over at me and gave me a nod. I offered a half-nod back, and suddenly became very interested in South American geography.

As luck would have it, my father also had quite a collection of Playboys. I had smuggled a few into the house and horded them as my own. Despite several people I knew getting caught doing the act, and the secret confessions of a friend during a sleep over, I had yet to venture down that particular avenue, though I kept the magazines and would look at them somewhat often. Despite the fact that I would get raging hard looking at these pictures, I wouldn't seal the deal.

However, learning that Shannon did it softened my resolve (but not my raging hormonal staff) and, late one night when I was certain my brother was asleep, I tried it. Unsure of what to expect, it went something like this:

*stroke*
*stroke*
Nothing.
Wait.
*stroke*
*stroke*
Nothing.
*stroke*
*stroke*
Nothing.
Wait.
Give up.

A few weeks passed after this initial foray into autoerotic enjoyment. My parents went out for a dinner date with my dad's work, leaving me and my two siblings in the able care of my grandfather. This was the same grandfather who taught me that little boys like to pee outside. He was a lovable chap and I certainly enjoyed spending time with him, so I felt a little guilty when I decided that tonight was tonight.

We had a storage room upstairs that was well-away from everywhere else. My parents stored canned fruits and vegetables and various jams and jellies up there. Also, ceramic decorations for various holidays were stowed in that room. Lots of other crap had accumulated, and it was here that my brother and I kind of had a hidden fort. It was also about the only place in the house one could go for some alone time. Sometimes I would go there and read. Tonight, I slipped in there with my illicit booty pilfered from my father's collection.

I remember the Playmate, too--Charlotte Kemp. She was Miss December, 1982. I opened up to her pages and flipped through, finally opening up her centerfold and staring, enraptured, at her naked body. She was a curvy, luscious woman whose hair was tinged with red and she had immensely large breasts and a patch of untamed bush stretching from the middle of her torso to her knees, it seemed. She wore a corset that was temptingly unlaced, some white stockings that reached the middle of her thighs, and heels. I remember the heels keenly because her leg was cocked in such a way that it was not difficult to imagine one of the heels...entering her, for lack of a better term.

And, it drove me wild.

Anyway, as I stared, I started to rub. And rub. And rub. And then, suddenly, oh, hey, wow! I was done. There it sat, in the palm of my hand, the liquid fruits of my labor. It had felt...different...sort of good. Other than that, I don't remember feeling much else. But, I remembered thinking "What do I do with this now?"

Remember how I said the room wasn't used much? Right. I figured no one would notice if I wiped my hand off on the wall. So I did. Right there behind the door where someone would really have to look if they wanted to find it.

Finished, I pulled my pants up, waited a couple of minutes, and went down stairs and spent the rest of the evening with my grandfather. The guilt and anger and hatred didn't hit me until the next morning. That's when I started my Guilt Journal, as I've come to call it.

The stain, as far as I know, still remains. Since the room was little used except for storage, it was never repainted. And, with some of the mason jars being mishandled and breaking, there were lots of other stains on other parts of the wall. Whoever buys my parents house, however, will be getting quite a surprise if they decide to look behind the door. Heh heh heh.

As for Ms. Kemp...I kept the magazine for a few months, using her lovely images to complete my lustful yearnings until one day I was so overcome with guilt and grief that I threw her away along with a couple of the others I had kept. A few years later, I bought a copy of the December 1982 issue of Playboy for nostalgia's sake, but then gave it to my friend Alex when I got married. Still, Charlotte Kemp is one of my all-time favorite Playmates, even though she's looking a little weather-worn these days.


Does this not sate your thirst for awesome TMI stories? Then check out all the other glorious tales of things we probably shouldn't tell at LiLu's home for the staunchy raunchy, TMI Thursdays!