When a Boy Misplaces His Innocence
I sometimes have these stray thoughts and I need to write them down. I want to explore the theme and where it takes me. Sometimes it feels as if they are disjointed and unconnected, but as I write, it kind of unravels and I see it clearer. I start to understand what it was I wanted to say.
This is one of those things; I may as well just jump in and see where it takes me. I can always throw it away if it doesn’t make sense. Try again another day. Have another run at it. Or put it out there and see if I get close to hitting a nerve.
I have learned over the months that I am not alone; if I feel it, someone else will know what I mean. Someone else will understand, maybe have better words to describe it. It is worth saying out loud; who knows what we might learn.
There is a moment in every boy’s life where his natural curiosity means he will start to explore. I imagine that for the average teenage boy, it is a gentle, gradual process. A little fiddle, a fumble, a realisation that touching there, squeezing that, pulling this feels good; do it a little more and it can lead to all kinds of new and exciting things.
It is a private and thrilling voyage of discovery. This thing that had always been there is not quite as benign, and has some other uses. Excellent. Now let’s see what this thing can do. I wonder what it would feel like if I could persuade someone else to play with it. And so it goes.
We don’t really talk about the subtle awareness and understanding, but most of us have experienced it. Men tend towards the knowing remark or the slightly risqué joke to reveal their shared understanding of these things.
Rarely do we indulge in intimate, open, frank discussion about how we became sexually aware. In some respects it is a shame, I am sure we would learn some stuff. Swapping notes, sharing knowledge, maybe we could circumnavigate some of the awkward moments and help each other.
Because we don’t do that, we are often left to our own fumblings and working it all out for ourselves. Learning as we go, finding our own little quirks, what we like, what it does for us, and gradually work it all out.
Not for me. I probably started that process. I can’t imagine that I had just ignored it completely. I mean, it was right there, under my nose, so to speak. The point where someone decided to play with it for their own nefarious desire was the day my penis became a cock. Instead of a gradual awakening and a growing understanding of what this incredible thing could do. It was a sudden and absolute crash course in what this thing was capable of, and there is no going back.
The problem is, it has the same result. You end up in the same place, feeling the same feelings. Really good feelings. Feelings you want to feel again.
There is not a boy on the planet who has ever reached the eventual end result of all that fumbling and decided it is not for them. No need to go there again. Once was quite enough, thank you. That was far too enjoyable. I think that is best avoided.
We want it again. Soon. Often. Desire has been unlocked and there is no putting it back in the box.
In the same way that I don’t recall my early exploration of this interesting area of my body, I am sure it is something that most boys have little clear memory of. It is one of those natural things that just happen.
We might recall specific moments of note; being caught mid-experimentation might stick in the memory, our first encounter with that messy moment of orgasm, the shock and awe of what it does to our mind and body is not something easily ignored and forgotten.
But the little steps along the way, the growing awareness and the stepping stones of technique are lost in the mists of too many late-night moments of pleasure.
Not for me and those like me. We have shocking and sudden jolts of memory. We experienced the same as you. We get what it can do. We understand the how-to and the why. The difference is we got to put it to good use much sooner. Like taking an intense driving course and then hitting the motorway and being let loose all in one quick weekend. Just hoping we don’t lose control or hit the crash barrier, we speed along, never hitting the brakes.
Oh, we liked it. Enjoyed it. Hard not to. It’s not like it can be ignored. The difference is we no longer had any control. What we learnt and how often we practised had been hijacked.
For most of us, it is not a blur of growing up and enjoyment and fun and learning what this thing can do. It is carrying those vivid, acute memories into every sexual encounter we ever engage with for the rest of our lives. We can’t shake it off or ignore it. Oh, this is like when he touched me, did that, made me feel this, got to do that thing. Excellent. Back there again.
When someone else gets to turn your penis into a cock, you don’t forget that moment. It stays with you. And a cock never forgets.
Oh no. Wait. That’s elephants.