This is my story about my first encounter with sex, although it was solo, it might brighten your day.
It so happens that I found myself at home alone one day when I was about 13 in the eighth grade, way back in the day. It was a school day and I think I was suspended for not reporting to detention. I was kinda hyper and got on the bus to go home, instead of going to detention, and only remembered when we were off school grounds. The driver wouldn't let me off the bus to go back and my principal wasn't hearing it, so I got three days uptown.
So there I was all by myself, laying face-down on the sofa watching TV, when I must have seen something on one of the soaps to arouse me. For some reason (don't ask me why) I began sort of dry humping the sofa cushion, and the more I humped the better it felt.
"Hmmm", I said to myself, "I've been hard before but it never felt this good." Anyway, I pulled down my pajama bottoms and underwear and started humping faster, but not in a frenzy at first, but within a minute I was reallyhumping and thinking, "Damn, this is good."
Before long I felt a rising sensation and I jumped up off the sofa headed for the bathroom thinking why now.
"I gotta pee, I gotta pee," I remember saying aloud.
Halfway up the stairs (luckily, there was no carpet) I got dizzy and a thick, pus came gushing out and I realized I didn't have to pee, but that I had just "nutted" or "came/cummed" according to what I remember the older teens (prolly 14 and 15) saying. "Wow, that felt good," I said as I got a wad of bathroom tissue to clean it up. I couldn't wait to do it again, but then disaster struck.
With me being young, dumb and (literally) full of cum, I didn't realize that by stopping before I forced ejaculation there was some left in there. With my age, I would have probably leaked some anyway afterward, even if I had gone all the way, but at any rate there was leakage.
Suddenly, I remembered the sex education portion of health class (it was the worst in the 1970s) and was hit with a paralyzing sense of dread. My teacher, Mr. O'Conner, told us that a sure sign of VD was leakage from the tip of the penis.
"Oh GOD, I got VD," I thought. I paced back and forth for a half-hour wondering what to do. I couldn't tell Ma and Tim (my Stepdad) or the doctor, because they would ask me to indentify the girl, and there wasn't a girl involved. "I got VD and I didn't even have sex, this is gonna be embarassing," I said to myself.
I was in peril for what seemed like an eternity (but it was only a couple of hours) until I came up with a solution. I looked unsuccessfully in the phone book for the number to the "free clinic" (the 411 operator corrected me and pushed the recording for the health department's phone number). I called and asked to speak to someone about VD, and did my very best imitation of Richard Pryor imitating a nerdy white guy.
"Hello, uhhh...yes...my son was whacking off on the sofa and I think he ended up with VD," I said. "That means if I bring him down there for shots and for you all to clean him out with that tool you use he won't be able to give you the name of the girl who gave it to him, because there aint no girl."
The nurse asked me what tool I was talking about. I told her it was the one doctors insert in the penis and then open it like an umbrella to clean out the VD. She asked me to explain about the pillows and the leakage, and sort of giggled when she told me that it was only natuaral after "whacking off" and that my son didn't have anything to worry about. She also said to tell him not to do it so often and he would be allright.
Man: talk about averting a disaster...but with that prognosis I was back in business. I must have reached expert whacking-off status in the next few months. Still pretty good at it, too.