Moonlight Will Prevail

Part Three

By Jason R.

Who can explain the first time a male masturbates? Who can describe the feeling of ecstasy one gets at the slightest touch on the male penis? I know I could never describe it but the feeling has never been as strong since that first time lying naked in bed. Not even after my many sexual encounters and my desire to learn new things, I have never felt that feeling again. I guess in a way, I?m still searching for that level of awakening. In a weird way, it?s the reason I?m writing this now. But I?ll get into that soon enough.

For a few minutes or maybe hours, I would rub one finger against my ?evil thing?, reveling in the feelings I received. And just as every boy learns eventually, I began using more fingers and in no time I had begun a gliding motion up and down. No one teaches a boy how to masturbate, that?s obvious in the many different techniques I have observed in the various partners I?ve had over the years. But the gist of it, the end result, is always the same.

As I played with my ?evil thing?, I began to notice each time my finger brushed against this one certain spot, right below the head, a shiver would shoot down my back. I don?t have to say this but I will, I enjoyed this immensely. So naturally I began to focus all my attention on that one area. It wasn?t long before I had wrapped my entire fist around my ?evil thing? and slowly began to develop the technique I would use for the rest of my life.

That first orgasm didn?t take me long to achieve. I remember letting a groan escape my lips and my entire body convulsing as the release raptured my being, spilling out my seed on my heaving stomach. (I remember disregarding the seed on my stomach. I knew what it was, by that age I knew where babies came from and how they were made.) I?m amazed by what my parents considered good teachings and what they considered bad teachings.

My breath came in gasps, and I realized I was still quite hot. I had sweat above my upper lip and my hair was damp from the exertion of my hand. But I felt satisfied. And in a weird way, I had taken the first steps towards my awakening free will. Steps that would set the tone for the rest of my life.

Can I really place this much awakening on a single orgasm? At that time, I learned there was something other than religion that could give you satisfaction. I know it?s satisfaction in two distinct different ways, but it was satisfaction none the less.

My parents had told me that my ?evil thing? was the downfall of humanity and that nothing good would ever come from it until I was safely married. That was the day I first found out they had lied to me. A lot had come from my ?evil thing?, and for the first time in my life, I begun to question what they had taught me.

I?m not saying that next day I didn?t feel guilty about what I had done. But I didn?t tell my father either. That was my first experience that I had kept from my father. And though there has been many since that night, masturbating was the first thing I kept from my parents. (so dad, in a way you were right, my ?evil thing? really was the reason I stopped believing in your god, but only in a way)

The next morning, over breakfast, I was petrified that my father would know I had played with my ?evil thing?. He had drilled into my head that god saw and knew everything we did on earth. And I was expecting to hear that god told my father about what I had done the night before and that I would be burning in hell forever for making god cry. And yet, all through breakfast, my father sat there telling jokes as he enjoyed his morning coffee, laughing with my mother like he didn?t have a care in the world.

And then my overactive imagination took over. I began to believe that my father was making me suffer, and that he would yell at me after my conscience had wrecked havoc on my tortured psyche. It was the longest day of my life. All day I was jittery and nervous. I just knew my father was hiding behind every corner, ready to jump out at any moment and accuse me of my sinful act. But it never happened.

After that long horrifying day, I swore I would never do it again. I had learned my lesson. I even went as far as to wear pants to bed with a belt tightly fastened to make sure I could never touch my ?evil thing? again, not even in my sleep. I must have sweated buckets in those following few days after I touched myself. My mother kept asking me why my sheets were so wet every morning. (try explaining the rational behind that freakish behavior to your mother) My father actually spanked me on the third day after I touched myself because he thought I must have wetted the bed during the night my sheets were so soaked. Couldn?t he understand I was trying to stop my ?evil thing? from sending me to hell?

But after a few days with ?nothing? bad happening, I began to calm down. I thought I must?ve gotten away with it and I felt as long as I never did it again, that god would forgive me and let it slide just this once. He was supposedly a loving and forgiving god, right?

But then church night came and once again, I was petrified out of my mind. At that age, it was the first time in my short life I really didn?t want to go to church. I had convinced myself that god had told the minister about what I horrible sinner I was and he would stand up in front of the congregation and explain how I touched my ?evil thing? until my seed came out. (I know I was a bit strange, but I had every right to be strange, I had a strange childhood, what?s your excuse?)