Erections... when I was a Little Boy

This is the second-part of a continuation of the topic of erections. 

I am Different than most males, and it has often troubled me in how an erection is viewed by most, compared to how it is for me. This has not been an easy topic to finally allow myself to address, discuss, or even to allow another to know how I feel about it. It quite literally is The Hardest Topic I've Ever written about! (No Pun intended...) But I welcome you to find the humor, and fun in an area I finally am learning to accept about myself, and allow others to understand as well.

To understand a bit-more of what this writing explores, its roots, feelings, and reasons for even writing, please feel free to read the First Part. 

~Warning!~ The text, pictures, cartoons, and entire subject of this blog MAY BE OFFENSIVE to some. In No Way am I trying to shove anything in anyone's face, or in any way be inappropriate, graphic, or sexual. But the topic is about erections, and all that goes with them... So you Have Been Warned. There is nothing visually graphic, except one cartoon. Read, Learn, Laugh, and Explore at your own desire... not because you are in any way forced-to. Please... Enter with An Open Mind... Or Closed Eyes.

This picks-up where I left-off in the first writing (linked above)... You can read this without having read the first-part, but it will make more sense if you know the full-story...

What caused erections for little boys?

(Or the explorations and experiments of little boys n girls):

It was never shameful to see what would cause an erection in a little boy. (Those erections happened quite easily , and often, without much help!) As little kids, it was not uncommon to see where we could fit our penises. Likewise, it was not uncommon for the girls to see what could be fit inside of their own openings. We discovered how some places it would go only when soft, but other places it would go better when it was hard. We discovered it was a bad idea to stick it into a coke bottle… although it fit nicely when it was soft, but the moment it got hard, you could not get it out! Likewise, the girls decided if a coke bottle was such a good fit on a penis, it would be an even better fit in their own openings. To say we had imagination and fun would be an understatement. Of course we joked about the poor bottle-guy at the store who counted these when we returned them! We almost always got erections while swimming naked. I was fun to watch and even to feel as another boy got an erection in the water verses out of the water. The girls delighted in using swim masks to watch under water as we flailed about and tried to “swim with a rudder”.

Who was Allowed to Play?:

(And is it considered ‘sex’ if you are kids?):

We had no notion that it was somehow considered bad that a boy would give another boy an erection, or to feel, play and discover it. It was all healthy, clean fun. Nobody around us was a homophobe, or put those silly notions into our heads.  As little kids, we were allowed to be kids, and nobody made it weird, or sexual. It was simply just learning, exploring, and discovering. Yes, we discovered how it would fit differently into a vagina whether soft or hard. The girls were equally curious, and often the ones to initiate, and try this. Often this was attempted while swimming, or in a bath… the water making it both more challenging, and also more fun.  In a bathtub, it was not as challenging, because the girl usually had the boy pinned down. Also in the bath, they easily discovered the joys of soaps, and bubbles, and how that changed the way it was more slippery. But, in the pool while swimming, the challenge was for the girl to see if she could manage to insert it while the boy was not holding still, also not having anything to make it slippery. We learned that this same activity was not as fun in the sand, or dirt. We found what would fit inside a garden hose, and likewise where that garden hose would fit. This was made even more fun when the water was suddenly turned-on by someone else, and the person playing was not expecting it! It was never a situation of anyone being forced, or made to do something they were not happy with. To us, this was fun, educational, and a great way to learn.

When Good, Clean Play Became Bad For Me:

The only times it was different was if someone would say something to make it “sexual”… such as the obvious “you are having sex” or “we are making babies”. I would hate that! To the girls, or the others around, they did not see it as any different and found it cute to say. I would instantly be repulsed, and could not get away fast enough. None of the people around could understand how that made it bad for me. It was the same action, just with different words. To me, they had just taken something fun and innocent and made it something totally different. The girls loved the thought of “Playing, ‘Lets make a baby’ “. We were not alone often, and the adults watched, but often let us do as we pleased, as long as we did no harm. When an adult would see this happen, they would chuckle. Then admonish whoever said the offending words. But still be giggling. We all knew what it was, but to label it made it something completely different (for me, anyhow). I knew we could not make babies until we grew, and developed further, so it was simply just play… until someone went and mentioned it as otherwise. Often the adults would watch, or encourage, but they left the actual explorations, or desire to see what could or could not be done to our own discoveries.  I always enjoyed them, until someone would mention anything relating the erection to something about sex.  Then I would be humiliated. But if it was not labeled as sexual, I was allowed to enjoy it. I was never offended by simply playing with an erection, until someone made it sexual. That just weirded me out.

Detailed Learning:

(The confusion, and conflict when your views are not like any other’s)

There were a few older people who did in fact teach me much about my body. I was taught about how to feel, understand, and know what I did and did not like, and to discover these feelings for myself, not base them on another’s beliefs. Even as a young boy, I baffled other people who sought to teach, and help me understand what I desired to know. The decisions I came to often did not match those who thought I should feel differently. But they accepted how I felt, rather than attempt to make me think the same as they did. I saw early in life that I was not seeing things the same as others did. Sure, I was conflicted hugely by this. Imagine that everything you find out about yourself is unlike any other human you have ever met… That will screw with a person’s mind!

Understanding the “Wisdom” of The Older People:

(Older… meaning even a year or two older Equals Aged Wisdom, Right?)

I learned very early how touch, and even sensual, intimate touch can be an incredible and wonderful feeling. I learned how to enjoy that touch, and even welcome the reactions it caused. Often the most visible reaction was an erection. I also learned early in life that when not treated as a bad thing, an erection can be wonderful. I learned that if everyone involved had no bad intentions, or ever did anything bad or harmful, there was never any shame, or even anything bad associated with an erection. As a child, I had so many wonderful memories that also included erections. I never once was made to ejaculate. I knew it was designed to happen and it would eventually. I knew how people talked about how it felt and that it was supposed to be the absolute best thing to happen. But I never had one, and did not even expect to, or know when I was supposed to, since to me the erections, and whatever caused them was never done to cause an orgasm. I remembered studying, asking and learning from anyone who would humor my inquiries. Surprisingly, I got most of my information from girls and women. Some of my most trusted female friends were the ones that were older than me, so they had the “wisdom” that came with age. Also, I got much of my knowledge from people like my Gramma, or close family-friends. My Grampa, and even his neighbor (one of my older female friends was his daughter, so they were similarly good at explaining things) were incredible at putting things into words, but they were about the only guys I ever met who could do that. Most guys just could not put anything about this into words.

What is a Phantom Orgasm?

I learned that I would indeed have ‘Phantom Orgasms’ until I developed further, and my body was ready to actually have an ejaculation. I learned I had already had these phantom orgasms since as long as I could remember. Those were wonderful! And I remembered how after having those, my penis would lose the erection, and slowly become soft again. The feeling and sensations that remained were ones I cherished. To me, this was perfect. I learned that most boys, and most men would complain if they had gotten an erection, but never had an orgasm. To them, the feeling of the erection caused discomfort, and the only relief was to orgasm… whether phantom as a young boy, or ejaculation as an older one. This was another area where I discovered I was different. To me, It was never uncomfortable to have an erection. It was blissful always. Even if I never had a phantom orgasm, it still never caused discomfort. I was the opposite. (And oddly enough, still am!) I never, ever complained about the feeling an erection would cause. I would cherish, and hope to keep it as long as was possible. I never cared about the phantom orgasm, or if it ever came. Eventually, all erections go away, and I still felt like they were so wonderful. I was the oddball, and everyone knew this. So, most boys would be eager to either have it go away as soon as possible, or hope to continue whatever would cause the phantom orgasm.

Some of the best memories I have include those who were comfortable enough for me to be around, and comfortable enough to know how to cause the erection, plus cause the phantom orgasm. From what I was told about actual ejaculation, and orgasm, verses the Phantom one, I was led to believe that whatever good feeling there was created in the phantom orgasm, the actual one, when it came would be way better. I had seen older boys, and even men have an orgasm. To me, it did not look like they were enjoying it one bit, or that it was in any way a good feeling. I already knew the fluid that came out in an orgasm was (to me) disgusting, sticky, and nothing I wanted anything to do with! I was not looking forward to my own body creating that mess. I wondered if the orgasm would be as bad as It looked like it would. Since most people already said the stuff they liked and thought felt good were proving to not feel good to me, I suspected the supposed bliss of an orgasm would also be something I would not enjoy. Their faces, and body language told me way more than their words did. I knew that time would come eventually, but was in no hurry for that to happen. To me, everything was perfect now. There was no mess, and those girls I played with also were in no danger of getting pregnant until I was able to ejaculate. I learned everything I could about the body, because I liked to know, understand, and be aware of what could happen, and does happen. I did discuss these topics with almost any female I could get interested. The part about getting pregnant was a huge fear for most young girls. They were always happy to not have that concern. At this time in our lives, it was considered simply just kids playing, and not sexual. It most-definitely was considered sexual once ejaculations could occur (and messy, too!) Again, I was thrilled to still be allowed to play, and not at all considered sexual. I was happy to not have that worry. The last thing I would ever do on this Earth was anything that could possibly create a baby!

Learning About Comfortable, verses Uncomfortable:

I tell the story above (In the first-part, previously posted) about a friend when I was 8 that behaved badly with an erection. He was not the only one. I saw others, too, and learned early how to stay clear of those people, and never allow them to touch you, or to ever allow yourself to be seen naked, or especially with an erection near them. What I could not understand was why some people behaved badly, and seemed to think that because they had a penis, it was perfectly acceptable. I knew if something made you uncomfortable in that way, it was best to not be around. I had already programmed myself to distance myself from anyone who made me uncomfortable because of naked, or an erection. Imagine my conflict when I finally had my first ejaculation, and discovered how horrible it made me feel! The conflict came not because I wanted to get away from the person who caused it, but because it was caused by someone I loved, trusted, enjoyed always being with, and had been one of my best friends since birth! How could I suddenly hate the way someone so important made me feel? It was caused by someone who I absolutely did not want to be apart from…

Did I lose My Virginity at age 10?

(Gasp!~ Or even by age 5?)

In my blog about My Grampa and I becoming Naked Smurfs, I mention quite often the girl from next door. She was a very important person in my life as a kid. We grew up together. In that blog, (and almost every one previous to this, I had not revealed the parts about the erections, because I was still too mortified to talk about them, After writing the blog about the hitchhiker, I found I was ready, and the time was appropriate.) She was two years older than me. My Gramma and Grampa liked to tease us regularly and call her my “girlfriend”. This embarrassed us both immensely. But at the same time, we understood why they said this, but neither of us was ready to be called that. She also was the one who caused my very first true orgasm. This had happened about a year before the Naked Smurfs week. I remember the day very well. I was either 10 or 11. The neighbor girl and I often spent entire days playing together. She and her friends were some of my most trusted friends, and often just being around her I got an erection. Often, she and her friends would purposely cause them. She had given me erections since I was born. She was two, I was a newborn. They all told me later, once I was old enough to know what they were telling me that the very first time she met me, she immediately grabbed my penis, and tugged on it until it was hard. This gave all the adults a good laugh, and they knew we would always be friends, and there would be no boundaries between us. Every time she was near me, she played with it more. To my grandparents and her parents, this was endlessly funny. Occasionally they used this to our embarrassment. They all immediately referred to her as my girlfriend. Sheesh, I had a girlfriend as soon as I was Born… and she liked to play with my penis!

Something is Different:

(Changes I was not thrilled with)

Anyhow, It was not uncommon for her to give me an erection, and also a phantom ejaculation. This was nothing shameful, especially around Gramma and Grampa, or even in front of her own family, or any of the people we were regularly around. Like I mentioned before, I almost always got an erection when I swam naked. Of Course with her here, I Always got an erection… Often caused intentionally by her.  We both found it amusing, and enjoyable. On this day, it was no different, … …until we noticed something was different with my erection. Grampa was working on something sitting at the patio table next to the pool. She and I had swam, naked of course. She had purposely caused the erection, and kept it continuing for quite a while. She often would see if she could get it inside her while we played (of course I did not object!) She did, and commented it felt different this time. I agreed. Something had changed. I could feel it was different, too. She had begun to develop and change, and we both noted the changes as she did. But this time, we both noticed I felt and fit differently. My own erection was different, looked, felt, and moved differently. I was not at all ashamed to have Grampa see this, nor was she ashamed to have him see her do this. This was just part of our playing, our connection. Other than the difference we noticed in the way I felt and fit, this was no different than any other time… Except once we were in the sun, and she played some more, she noticed some fluid seeping from the tip. (yes, we each were quite familiar with each other’s body functions, and even pee’d together quite often. In our freedom, yes we had even explored and learned enough to know what a drop of the other’s pee felt and looked like. We were very comfortable with each other.) She continued to play, and work more out, I could tell it was something different, too. But it was not flowing, just barely seeping. As she explored, and worked more out, effectively moving the fluid around the tip, she caused it to become quite slippery. We both understood what this was. She grinned, and said “it is time”. We both knew it, but she was the first to say it. Not only had I studied, learned and asked everyone who would allow my inquiries, She also was one who told me about this in her “aged wisdom”. She played only a bit more, then stopped, to not cause the ejaculation yet. I looked at her, and told her she could no longer try to put it in. She looked sad, and agreed. We both knew this change in me would forever change the way we could play.

Grampa’s Humorous Advice: “Get Into the Pool, So You Don’t Get It In Her Eye…”

Grampa had noticed, too, and was watching, grinning. As He Chuckled, He said, “Can I offer a bit of advice? Get into the pool, so it won’t get in her eye, and you won’t end up all sticky.” We laughed at this, but agreed. All of us knew The time had come. Sure, we easily could have just ignored it, and let it go away, but we knew the importance of it, and without discussing it, knew we needed to continue it this time. We got into the pool, and began to swim. I knew other boys absolutely loved it when they changed and had their first orgasm. I already had my doubts about it, because of how it made me feel already. The swimming, and the motion of the “rudder moving against the water” did nothing to calm the feeling, it only made it more uncomfortable. I absolutely did not like this new feeling one bit. I stopped swimming. She of course was right next to me. She also could tell how it was making me feel. It was nothing uncommon for her to touch, hold, squeeze, and know every detail of how my body felt, reacted,and moved. Not only could I feel it was affecting me differently, but so could she. As I held onto the edge of the pool, she felt, and "inspected" what I was experiencing. She, too could tell this was not doing good for me, and she suggested we go to the shallow end where we could stand. I told her I felt sick, and could not swim. She took me to the shallow end, and helped me stand. I could barely stand, so we went to the steps to sit, still in the water. I told her I felt funny. I really was not feeling good all of a sudden. She could see how this was not good for me. She held me in a hug. She knew me very well, and also could feel it herself. She whispered, “It is time. Can I help, or do you want to do it alone?”  I knew from what she had told me, she had experience with this already with other boys. I really did not like the way I was feeling. I could not describe the feeling, but it was awful! I could tell it was going to happen, whether she helped or not. Part of me wanted to just be left alone, but also part of me wanted her with me. I could not answer, and was seeming to go into what I called a crash. Those around me knew what happened to me when I went into a crash. It meant I was beginning to feel like I was becoming an unconscious puddle on the floor, yet I was still upright. A Crash to me was when I felt more of everything that was happening, was tuned-into EVERY feeling, emotion, and affect on my body... both inside, and out, yet at the same time could not vocalize, or explain what was happening. For anybody watching, it would seem I was becoming unconscious, yet never actually doing so. For me, it was an overload of everything I felt, feeling every detail in way too much detail, and I mostly-was not conscious, yet I still was. To me, it was a complete overload of the senses. She was familiar with my crashes, and had learned well how to help me.

Orgasm, or Taking of My Soul??:

Since I could not answer, and she understood, she “helped”.  While I wanted nothing more than to be left alone, and not have anybody near me when I felt so horrible, I also totally welcomed that she knew, and was helping. I knew she was the perfect one to be with when this happened, even if I was feeling worse than I ever had. She literally lifted me onto her lap (facing away, not toward her), and wrapped both arms, and even her legs around me, so I felt completely wrapped in comfort, and her love. She was gentle, placing one hand on my penis, and the other on my testicles. (They were still very tiny, and tight against my body. They had always been small, and tight, but now they were tighter than they had ever been, and they hurt.) She massaged, but could not take away the horrific pain and pressure I was feeling, the feeling of something draining every ounce of good from my body...from the core of my body. But her touch helped make me feel not like I was suffering it alone. She seemed to know more about this than I did, but I also was in no way feeling I wanted any part of any of what was happening. If I could have, I would have run as far and fast as possible, climbed a tree to the highest point, and isolated myself, never allowing such a feeling to EVER happen to me. But I was almost paralyzed, feeling almost unconscious, and unable to think, function, or do anything. But I Felt EVERY Detail in Magnification, and excruciating detail. It was an overload of what I was feeling. I hated it! Her hand on my penis was just comfortably gripping, tenderly massaging, and her fingers were slightly moving across the tip. I could tell that even in the pool water, the drops seeping of lubricant were still very effective. I could tell what she was doing, and why. She managed to make everything smooth and slippery, instead of rough with friction. She knew how to even make a bad thing feel as good as possible. She definitely understood how to be gentle, yet effective. Her touch, and the way she helped move the lubricant around were very soothing… But that was the only thing that felt good down there.  My entire body began to tense, I felt my tiny testicles get painfully hard, and tight~seeming like they were squeezed like you would squeeze a lemon to get every bit of pulp and juice (yet the squeezing feel was not by her hand, it was internal), seeming to withdraw inside my body, but it was like my entire soul felt like it was being removed. I felt like every ounce of positive energy I had in my body was suddenly taken away. I knew it was not something I could stop, and just had to suffer-through. She held me. She continued with her hands, until the final second. She knew enough to move her hand away from the tip, and not let any get on her, or me. She knew I would not want any of that against her, and certainly would not want it on myself. As it left my body, She helped make sure it all got out, by gently squeezing, and pushing the rest out, and keeping the water moving so it carried it way, instead of sticking to me. The way she held, massaged gently, softly, caring was the ONLY part that felt good. I was conscious, but felt (and Wished!) I was unconscious. I felt absolutely sick, felt like anything positive in me had just been robbed by some evil phantom, and I was now filled with nothing but bad energy. I was confused, I was feeling so weak, and like my entire soul was just stolen, and wished I could flee. I wanted to hate her for making me feel such an awful thing (but I knew it was not her fault, it was just how I was made). But I also wanted to just have her hold me, knowing it was her who helped me, and not her fault I was wired differently, and also not at all her fault that I had begun to change. I also was happy that If such a thing had to happen (which I knew It would, and it was just part of growing-up) I was Happy it was with her. She was The Perfect Friend!

Rescue Me!

Grampa saw that it had happened, but also saw that I did not seem to feel good, or find it pleasurable. He also was Very familiar with my crashes. She began to help move me out of the pool. Grampa quickly came and helped her walk me from the water. They laid me down on my back in the sun. She grabbed a towel, and dried me off, making sure there was none stuck on me in the process. She not only knew me well, she felt the way it made me feel.  She had been familiar enough with my life to know what I needed. First, she wrapped herself around me in a comforting hug. Then after a few moments, she began to massage. Gramma had taught her how to massage properly, and she had witnessed Gramma do exactly this same thing when I had many of my previous crashes at Gramma’s house. From her touch and technique, if I had not known it was her, I would have suspected it was Gramma. I was still able to feel everything, just felt like I wished I was not alive. I could feel it was her hands, and could feel how she knew how to remove the negative, and fill me with the positive energy. She massaged exactly as Gramma had. She began to massage my head, then slowly work on massaging my face. Then worked her way down my entire body. She effectively removed all the bad energy, and replaced it with her own good energy. Although she did not miss an inch, she was careful to not do too much in the penis area right now. After she worked her way down to my feet, she turned me over. Then she worked her way back up. By now, once she reached the top of my legs, she could tell my penis had become not so sensitive and she was free to massage it too. She could tell when it was good, and when it was not. (Just like she's seen Gramma do many times.) She massaged without needing to roll me back over. After thoroughly massaging my entire back-side, I had gained enough energy to roll over again. I rolled onto my side, and puller her close. We snuggled for a bit. I was really glad that when it had to happen she was the one who was there. I told her she learned well, and my Gramma would be proud. She smiled, and told me she often watched Gramma take care of me, so she knew how also. I told her the only difference was I could feel it was her hands, not Gramma’s. She smiled, quite proud of herself.

My Gramma Had taught Her Well!

(Yes, Gramma massaged everything. Gramma was always safe, and one who taught me much about my own body. Nobody ever thought Gramma to be inappropriate. She knew the human body well, and had studied Kinesiology, Reflexology, and so many other things that were helpful. Anyone who ever spent time at Gramma’s house welcomed her ways with the body. It was never shameful, or something that was hidden. Gramma even often would help young people understand how to touch, feel, and make another feel wonderful. Would it be wrong to admit the erections caused by Gramma were often the most cherished?) It took me long enough in life to finally be willing to openly admit much I have never disclosed (well not disclosed since I was 12...) But, yep! I will admit what I would not for so many years. Gramma knew touch, sensuality, and understood the human body quite well!

Snuggle, and relax:

We snuggled for quite a while as I slowly gained energy again. Once she saw me gaining life and color again, she kissed me, smiling quite proudly. I told her “Don’t ever make me do THAT again.” We both laughed. Grampa was still sitting at the table. He commented, “Well, chalk another one up that you gotta do differently.” We all laughed. And I groaned, too. Ugh. We lay in the sun, just holding each other and resting the rest of the afternoon.

After that day, we still played mostly like we always had, just careful to never take me to that point again.

Age 12. New Home, You Don’t Fit-in anymore:

I was looking for a picture of me at 12... found this one of me at 13 instead.

Until the age of twelve I never saw my own erections as harmful, shameful, or anything that was thought to be forbidden, hidden, or secret. I had become aware of the difference one I could ejaculate, but made sure to never let it go there again. We moved to Oregon when I was twelve, I was suddenly around an entirely new group of people. The life I knew, and learned how to fit into nicely was suddenly ripped away from me. Suddenly everyone who saw me simply naked, not even with an erection, acted like it was somehow a creepy thing, and saw it as only sexual. Even my own family had suddenly stopped allowing me to be naked. I didn’t even dare to ever allow an erection to be seen. I was confused and baffled, and could find no safe place in my new world. I never once saw my own erections as sexual, except the few times as a little kid that I mentioned earlier. At the age of twelve, I suddenly went into hiding, and never again felt comfortable in allowing another to see me naked, let-alone see, feel or cause my erections. It became an imprisonment of the worst kind. I began to become a loner, and never want to be near others, because I did not know how to fit in anymore. I went into hiding in almost every way. I knew the difference between someone who was safe, trusted, and in no way looking to harm me, and those who were bad, and only sought to hurt another. But others seemed to misinterpret who I was, and what my intentions were. I have written many times about naked freedom, explorations, and discoveries I had as a child. I have written about those who were completely safe, and those who were not. But one topic I have never before fully disclosed was the topic of my penis and how it conflicts me like this. Suddenly, every person I was around would not accept me naked, erection, or not. (There were a few exceptions, of course, but I mostly had to live a secret-life when it involved anything naked, or anyone seeing ANY Aspect of my body.)

Hide My Penis until age 19:

I am wired absolutely differently than any other human. While most find a feeling in both sex and in drugs (even in alcohol) that is appealing to them, it is the opposite for me.  I did not do Anything with anybody that might involve my penis from the age of twelve until I finally allowed myself to have a girlfriend at the age of 19. Then I tried to figure out how to feel what others felt, and called enjoyable in life. Imagine how for so much of my life, I TRIED, Really tried to find out why so many liked these. The alcohol and sex were easy to keep trying, but the drugs… No way. What I have tried in the department of drugs is limited, and could be written in a couple of sentences, but those are still reserved for the few who I care to discuss that with in a private manner. But as far as the Sex and alcohol goes, I was baffled. I thought “these people must be crazy to think something that makes you feel so awful could be a good thing.” I thought “How come so many people like things that make them feel like that?” I even thought that maybe if I just tried more, or with different people I would see how they thought it felt good. But it never did. I always wished I never had done it. To say I was confused about what people thought was good, compared to what I thought was bad was an understatement! (And dare I even mention masturbation?? Nope, I do not like that either…. Well, there are qualifications to that statement… but that gets into a completely different topic. One about whether it involves orgasm, or not, and also what, or why the occurrence may happen…. But for this post, I will keep it simply at I do not care for that either.)

It took years and years of talking to people about what they found to be good in the department of sex, sexuality, and “pleasures” that would fall under that category. I also allowed myself to be open to trying new things, to see if maybe that might change how it was for me, or give me a different feel. I found that what they felt, was not the same as what I felt. Even talking with the partners I have had. With us both sharing the same exact event, I was amazed at what I felt as a bad feeling, and wished it had not happened, yet they felt the opposite, and wanted more of the same. Dare I say I became obsessed with finding out what others liked, and why? I began to learn what others like, how they like it, and to even study more about the human anatomy. I have always loved the infinite wonders of the incredible machine called the human body. To embark on studying more about what made people feel good, what they liked and why, was nothing but pure desire of feeding my insatiable desire for learning. Almost any female I was with, even those who I was not intimate with, I would learn about their desires, and how they accomplished these. I could see the pleasure, and how much it did for them… whether I was the one doing them, or someone else was. But I wanted to know. Yeah, It is weird. I liked to learn about what was good for people like that, but at the same time, I absolutely hated anything sexual. I understood this, too, though. I thrive on helping others, and want them to achieve happiness, and feel good in life. I am usually willing to do almost anything if it will help another… the exception is if it causes myself harm. Harm to myself would include making me feel bad, or feel like I had done something I later regretted.

I AM Non-Sexual:
(That term baffles most…)

I have a rule in life: Harm No One. That includes one’s own self. In following this rule, I have come to the conclusion that I will not have sex. Period. No, I am not “celibate”, or would I even claim to be “abstinent”. Simply put, those are typically religious views about how some go about not having something they otherwise would desire. I am simply “Non-Sexual”. DON'T WANT IT. DON'T NEED IT. DON'T LIKE IT. PERIOD.

What Does "Non-Sexual" Mean?:

This term baffles many. Most understand the terms often associated in a sexual society: Those terms could easily include, but are not limited to the following: heterosexual, bisexual, homosexual, gay, transgender, bi-curious, lesbian, bro-love, or even man-love, celibate, abstinent, or even the many that are often associated with fantasy, and role-playing. There are even names, groupings and labels for the different types of gatherings, or situations where any type of sex may occur. I will not begin to list these, for the list is endless. I am sure I am forgetting to include many labels, but that is exactly what they are: Labels. For some reason everyone feels the need to categorize any sexual activity into some group, or definition. But for me to apply a label to myself about my own sexual activity, or to be more accurate: My own desire to not want any sex, and call myself “Non-Sexual” baffles most. Although the label does infact state exactly what it is, and there is no hidden meaning, or even any way to mistake its meaning, most readily admit they cannot grasp this meaning.

What About Kissing, Snuggling?:

I have been asked if I would still kiss, and snuggle. My answer to this would be “that depends on the reason for wanting to kiss, and snuggle”. I have been kissed many times by friends, or even someone I barely know simply to show gratitude, and appreciation. I also have slept, snuggled and shared very close moments with people. Some I have known a lifetime, and others I have known only moments. Sometimes, I have shared these snuggles while naked, other times completely clothed, or even somewhere in between. I cannot claim that I am against kissing, snuggling, or closeness… unless those kisses, and snuggles are a hidden agenda to attempt something sexual. Likewise, I also have been asked if touching is allowed. By all means, yes! But there are situations when touching is not welcomed, too. If the touch is meant to be sexual, or to place someone in a position of feeling vulnerable, used, or in any way dirty, ashamed, or like they wished it did not happen, then the touching would be not acceptable. But not all touch is sexual, even if it includes the penis. Often people touch to learn, understand, or simply because they are comfortable, and not-in-any way desire anything sexual. Touch can be a wonderful expression between two people. 

Might You Be Gay?:

In the attempt of others to figure me out, and even to find something I could like about sex, it has been suggested that maybe I was gay, and just did not like females. That one always makes me chuckle, because it is the exact opposite. It does not matter if it were male or female, it is totally about how I am wired, and how sexuality makes me feel… Not about who the other person is. But, again, our world feels the need to label, or place people into categories. They cannot grasp that I do not fit into any of the supposed categories. As far as relationships go, I am mostly attracted to females… but of course, it is not so simple as to say “A male could not interest me.” Sure, there is always that possibility that the right person could come along, and if that person happened to have a penis, I would not for sure immediately say “no way.” I just do not find many males I would be attracted to, let alone wish to spend any amount of time with.  If I understood males better, that might be a different story. But it is not about whether I could love a male, or a female. It is that I am Non-Sexual. Period.  The things that turn a male on, and the things they desire, and do that are sexual are absolutely nothing I am able to connect with, find pleasure in, or even to just to pretend. Similarly, I have indeed talked to many males about what they desire, and what makes them feel good. I have sought understanding, and tried to find out how come they feel this way. Most males cannot put into words what they feel, why they feel that way, and why they act, or desire the things they do. Most males cannot tell another what they would like, and why. Most males cannot tell someone about the reactions, desires, and feelings they have. This makes it extremely difficult for me to gain an understanding. The way most males do things does not at all connect with me, or make sense to me. I cannot find an appreciation for much of the male anatomy, or how it works, because I am a male, yet I have never found one who feels, thinks, or acts like I do. Similarly, I am not shaped, sized, or built like most males. Attempting to connect on an intellectual, emotional, or mental level with males is almost impossible for me. Connecting with females on those levels comes naturally to me. I cannot find books, or other learning aids that demonstrate anything about males that would be the same as it is for me. So, connecting with males in most aspects of life is nearly impossible for me. I cannot understand why males find such a bond with other males. I cannot grasp what males want and why.

Most men Baffle Me:

I am baffled by how to me, most males act and seem gay, yet will deny that they are. I have nothing against any form of love. If two people like each other, and can find mutual love, joy, and sex, then by all means, please do! But what baffles me is when men are attracted to one another, but will flat-out claim they are not. They are only lying to themselves. One of my biggest turn-offs toward another human is when they feel they should lie. I cannot accept that, and will put walls up to block them out faster than if they tried to harm me with a weapon. The rest of the world sees it, but they find it somehow acceptable to deny. The world seems to accept male to male interactions as “just being male”, and for some reason denies it is in any way gay. But it totally is. Also, most of our world encourages males to hide their feelings toward another male. This too is something I cannot connect to. Call it what it is, and stop lying about it. Even in non-sexual areas of life (yes, I am aware of the irony that “to a male, there is no part of life that is not sexual.”) I cannot find a connection to most males. So to suggest that I might find sexual pleasure with a human that I cannot connect to in any way, cannot find attractive, and cannot understand would be like saying I should have sex with an empty toilet-paper tube. Either way… No thanks. Do not mistake this as hatred toward males. I do not hate males. I simply do not understand most of them…. Nor do I understand the connection most females find in males.

 I have no problem with the penises of the males in this world. I do have a problem with how sexual everyone makes a penis. I have a problem with how nobody can see a penis, and not think of it in a sexual way.

THAT Is Exactly What I have a problem with, causes me my own embarrassments, and makes the fact that I was born with a penis a problem. I have a penis. It gets in the way. It often gets hard, and I feel I must hide it from the world. Writing about the hitchhiker caused me to realize how much I have again gone back into hiding my penis, and being ashamed, embarrassed, and mortified that anyone might notice I have reactions. To have a reaction, and not desire anything sexual, or wish to orgasm is a huge trouble for me.  Why Would it be such a trouble, and Why Have I gotten so easily humiliated, and allowed myself to be Mortified if I get an erection?

Why Is This Subject So hard For Me?:

This post is such a hard one to write (no pun intended.) It is one of the most difficult subjects I have ever put into words. When I began to write about the hitchhiker, I realized how much I needed to explore this, and figure out why I imprison myself so much. This writing has caused me to finally be able to say what it is I want to hide. I have had a flood of emotions that have resurfaced because of how deep this goes with me. It is amazing how just the act of writing out my feelings can make me re-live, and feel exactly what I thought I had long ago left behind, and buried. Last night while writing about my first ejaculation, and how I hated it so much, not only did I find the words to describe how it felt, but also I Physically felt it again. I got physically sick just by connecting to that time so long ago, got a crippling headache, and even threw-up.  I had to leave the writing until this morning.

I have never denied that I am a feeling-based individual. Often those feelings are crippling. I have so much more I need to write about erections, and how they affect me (both good and bad!), but for now, I must leave it as it is. Thank You for Caring enough to read my thoughts. I know I write long posts, but I have a lot to sort, and finally let out. The searching, understanding, and finding ways to put so many feelings into words is such a free-ing experience! Yeah, it hurts so much some times to delve into the hidden parts of my soul, and re-live such experiences... But it also feels so good to finally be able to Be Free! I Hope You Allow Yourself to Find Your Freedoms in Life!

If there is anything you wish to ask, or might be curious about me, how my body works, or how I feel about anything, Please feel free to ask! Who knows... I might just learn something about myself, too! I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY! (and that your erections are good, in whatever way is good for you! ~=:-)