Childhood Masturbation

Around age 8, I found that I could touch my dick to the floor when I did push ups. It was kind of sneaky and I knew it wasn't undetectable, I just figured like most things kids do, adults might notice but wouldn't pay attention. So one evening while watching 'Jeopardy!' in the living room, with my mom and dad on the couch, I did push-ups on the carpet and kind of humped the ground each time I went down. My mom caught me...

As a child growing up with my parents, sex was never discussed. I had no 'birds and the bees' talk and for a long time as a child I didn't know what "the talk" was about. Why it was called the 'birds and the bees.' Wtf is that name? Are birds penises and bees vaginas? No, that makes no sense?

My first memory of sexual behavior was when I was about 7 or 8. I discovered masturbating felt good. I thought about the pretty girls who were nice to me, pictured their faces, thought about the things they said to me or how they were kind or sweet and I rubbed my dick until this warm feeling washed over my chest and spread across my shoulders.

(I didn't find out about ejaculation until I was 11, and I remember thinking that masturbation before puberty actually felt better, I could climax several times in a row, and it was more about emotional feelings and liking someone's character than biological urges with a physical counterpart.)

Around age 8, I found that I could touch my dick to the floor when I did push ups. It was kind of sneaky and I knew it wasn't undetectable, I just figured like most things kids do, adults might notice but wouldn't pay attention. So one evening while watching 'Jeopardy!' in the living room, with my mom and dad on the couch, I did push-ups on the carpet and kind of humped the ground each time I went down. My mom caught me...

My mom was alarmed, froze when she was certain what I was doing. She told me never to do that. She brought me to my room and asked me to tell her honestly how often I did that when I was in my room. I had started experimenting for a few weeks at least, and I'd try out my feelings on a girl to see how much I liked her. I told my Mom two or three times a week. The answer did nothing to mollify her alarm.

My mom didn't talk with me to explain my sexual feelings, or to understand what my feelings were, or why I had them. She didn't allow me to ask her any questions or explain myself. Without clarifying what my crime was, she condemned me to a sentence. She instructed me to record on a monthly calendar each time it happened and show her each week and to promise to make the habit stop.

So I did. I was scared. I was ashamed, embarrassed. Confused. How could this wonderful loving feeling be so shocking to my Mom, why was *this* fun playful activity of incorporating humping into push-ups such unforgiving Siberian territory, compared to the countless other misdeeds I experimented that were brushed aside?

At first, I was terrified there was something wrong with me. I was afraid of my feelings and thought am I bad, what will happen to me, what if it doesn't stop? Why did my Mom treat me this way? I knew I wasn't being bad or sick, I was exploring my emotions and there was so much goodness in the girls that brought this out.

But soon I discovered, my Mom didn't want to think about this issue. When I showed her my masturbation calendar, I found out that there was no forgivable entry. Any indication of it was bad. Each time I omitted recording an entry, my Mom was more pleased.

That my Mom didn't ask or even recognize what I was doing, and treated it as something I knew it was not convinced me it was okay to keep going. What she thought was this horrible unspeakable secret crime, couldn't be what I was doing, so it was okay as long as I kept it about good intentions.

There was no way to communicate this to her, she would not listen, so I lied and said didn't do it at all one week, justifying it to myself that, no I was not being bad or sick they way she feared, even if I was masturbating. She was uncomfortable that I brought up the topic, but pleased that the habit was stopping.

One day she asked me, is the habit gone. I lied, Yes, and she was relieved to never bring up the subject again.

This began the split in my sexual behavior. I felt afraid and guilty for having or showing sexual feelings to others in real life relationships, then I indulged those feelings privately through Internet pornography.