As far as I can remember, even as a little boy, I have always had a sexual interest in women. I never went through a period that normal boys go through, or the “Yuck-girls” period.
When I was little, my mom and step dad had that nasty habit of throwing me in the cellar if I had misbehaved and worthy of some punishment that had to go beyond standing in the corner. Now, you have to imagine the cellar as a damp and dark area that was for the most part below street level. The cellar was divided into three rooms, just like the other floors. The front “room” in the cellar was a bit more hospitable because from the barred window, you could still see the feet of people pass by, and there was plenty of street noise. The backroom on the other hand was darker even though there was a similar window. But it felt much creepier because due to the absence of street noise, I could hear a lot of other noises coming from mice or rats. And that was probably the case as the cellar had a drain pipe that connected to the sewer. At times of heavy rain the sewer overflowed and water rose up through the drain pipe flooding the cellar up to a foot high. The cellar was definitely a damp and scary place.
To escape the cellar, or at least in my mind, I closed my eyes and fantasized that I’d be kidnapped by a group of sexy young women who lived in the trailer of a large semi truck and kept me as their prisoner that they adored. The girls were attractive, and scantily clad. Not naked, because at that time, I had never seen the hidden parts and had little cue of what they looked like. The trailer however on the inside was more like the Tardis on the Doctor Who series. The Tardis is actually a space ship that on the outside is a cramped English telephone booth, but on the inside, it was very spacious with multiple rooms. Even though at that time I had never heard of or seen Dr. Who, my “prison” was spacious enough to house a couple of dozen young women in great comfort. I felt so safe and happy there that even at night, I returned to the trailer in my dreams, where I sleeps usually in the arms of 2 or 3 girls, with them touching me and me touching them . The first woman I fell for was “Nadine”. She was an older and taller woman: I was in first grade, and she was in third grade. She was tanned and had short blond hair, more like a boy, except that in the middle at the front, a few locks of hair ran wild. Of course, she had no eyes for boys, so, I contented hanging out closely where she and her girlfriends used to hang out. In the third grade, I stated to notice Mia. Mia was in my class and had been since kindergarten, but, compared to Nadine… she was no woman. She was skinny, a long well defined face had long blond hair that went halfway back and wore rimmed glasses. But when Nadine left, I started to notice Mia. Together with my classmates Luc, Alain, and we competed for academic leadership. We were the smartest kids in school. I did not like when Luc and Alain spent too much time with her. I hated and loved Tuesday mornings, because that was when the whole school walked a few blocks to the municipal pool. As I could not swim, I really did not want to go. But then Mia looked so good in a bathing suit that. It was at that time that the adults started to interfere with their comments of being sweet on girls. I can still remember my anger when people teased me or Luc or Alain of having Mia as a girlfriend. At fifth grade, my parents transferred me to one of the top private schools in Brussels. There was a primary school for the first 6 grades in a brand new complex, and a block down was the secondary school .The school was run by the Jesuits, and that was the end of my co-ed education for the decade to follow. There were not even any female teachers. At about that time, something worrying was happening in my body. For some reason, my little “willy” became big and hard and it worried me, but when I asked my mom, it was as if I was she had lost her hearing and she usually changed the topic and scolded me for something that I had not done or asked me if I had no homework to do. So I stopped asking. So much for sex education. And of course, as luck would have it, these involuntary erections popped up when we were changing at the swim hall.
Unlike in primary school, where each student changed in a private change booth, we no longer had that privacy in secondary school. Most of the boys used a bath towel to screen their privates, though the “cool” guys just got naked and changed in and out of their suits. My problem was that sometimes, I got raging hard-ons twice every morning. In class on my seat, I just readjusted my position, but in the changing room, it really got to be a challenge to get in and out of my Speedos. Plus, the bulge was very noticeable. Of course the other boys noticed and teased me about it. So, the next time it occurred, I got stark naked and draped my towel over my dick, as if it was a hanger, and then attracted all the guys’ attention to it. They were stunned and they started to add towels. My “carrying capacity” was about 5 towels. This event made me cool with the other guys. Indeed, a few weeks later, the toughest cool kid took me aside and asked me whether I had ever experienced a milky substance on the tip of his dick? I had no clue what he was talking about, and he said that it sometimes leaked out when he rubbed his foreskin up and down and that it felt really good. Unfortunately, I had no idea, but later that night, in bed, when I had my usual evening erection, I pulled back the foreskin and started rubbing the head with my thumb and it felt nice. I did this for a few nights and decided to be a bit bolder and started to move the foreskin up and down, rather slowly, and each time the foreskin ribbed the glans, it felt so wonderful. I noticed my breathing becoming harder, and I did not want to wake my sister who slept in the adjacent room while her bedroom door is open. After a few minutes of rubbing, I felt a strong sensation welling up from the base of my shaft and suddenly several spurts of goo on my belly and my bed sheet. When I rubbed my glans with my thumb, it felt so slippery and the sensations went all the way to the bottom of my shaft. I then pulled my hand from under my sheets and put the thumb under my nose and it smelled wonderful, and I took a deep sniff. I had the same felling in my head as when I had when we followed a gasoline truck. I got a little high on the smell and went for a second; third sniff, till I had dried up the liquid on top of my glans. There was still some goo on my stomach, and I rubbed it out all over my belly. When it dried, there was like a stiff sticky crystalline substance on my belly. Cool. I had found a new night activity and the next day could not wait for the night to come so that I could get into bed. From that night on, this was my daily nocturnal activity, and I can count the days I have not masturbated at least once without needing more than 10 fingers. It soon spread to a day time activity as well. There was a textile cover over my desk, much like a runner. But it extended to my lap and I soon found out that I could masturbate “undercover” at my desk if I leaned the chair back and started jerking off. When done, I sniffed, and either wiped the sperm that had fallen on my belly with the underside of the runner. After a few weeks, the rim of the runner became a hardened mass of dried up sperm. Once in a while, I planted my nose in it and sniffed till I got that high. Sometimes the activity was interrupted when my mom came up to check up on me. So, each time I heard footsteps on the stairs, I quickly interrupted and pulled myself together and acted as if I was studying. Though a couple of times, I was so out of breath that my mom asked if I was OK. “I am OK, mom, I just did some exercise stretches as I was falling asleep”. Meanwhile, I had started to experiment with different rhythms, and different levels of pressure, and I got so good at it that the orgasms were so strong that I splashed my sperm as far as my face. When I was laying down in bed. I also had to improve controlling my breathing as my sister started to get wind of what I was doing. One night she surprised me when a voice came from her bed asking me if I was jerking off. “What the hell, of course not!” “Yes you are”. Two thoughts entered my mind. First, how the hell did she know about jerking off, and second, would she betray me and tell mom. She never did as far as I know, but I became a very good stealth jerker who knew how to control his breathing noises.
