Date: Thu, 4 Dec 2003 23:25:11 EST
From: RandomThoughts46@aol.com
Subject: Exploring Grounds

What you are about to read are true events from my past.  They involve me
and my father.  What you wish to think about these events is solely up to
you, as in my opinion, what happened was educational and appreciated.  All
rules apply, if you do not wish to read the contents of this autobiography,
please turn away, although anything you will read here is not subject to
violations by law or nature.  I am proud to write an account of how I
became sexually responsible in life, due to my dad.  He is gone now, but
remembered with great kindness and affection.  I do not write these
accounts to make anyone horny or fanatical about family sexuality.  Just
enjoy what I have to this day think as my `Exploring Grounds' of life.


At the age of eleven, my parents got divorced.  There were a number of
reasons that I wasn't aware of at the time why they separated.  When my dad
moved out, he'd bought a house five blocks from us.  My two younger sisters
and me were to live with our mom.  It wasn't my choice, and I did go a
little wild not being around my dad much.
	More then a year after the divorce, I was twelve and more
demanding, after school let out for the summer I caused a ruckus with my
mother and was allowed to stay with my father for the summer, until the new
school season began.  That was quite all right by me, I'd gotten my way,
and my dad didn't seem to mind it.  I assumed my dad missed me anyway.  It
was that particular summer that I learned more about my dad other than
knowing that he liked to drink beer.
	For some information about my dad, at the time he was thirty-eight,
five foot eleven, one hundred eighty pounds or so, olive complexion, near
black hair, muscular, hairy chest, arms and legs, deep voice.  We lived in
a very small, redneck, northern mining town, and he was a shovel operator
in one of the taconite mines.  He worked mostly mid and overnight shifts,
and slept days.  The few nights a week he worked overnight, I had to stay
at moms, but otherwise I spent that entire summer with him.  He would come
home so dirty all the time that the first thing he'd do is shower.  I
remember how musty and earthy his work clothes smelled, even today, and
that he'd throw them in the washer immediately so they didn't smell up
anything else.  He never was all that much of a conversationalist, but when
we'd talk we'd have a good time.
	That first week I was with him, I learned almost immediately that
he loved to be naked.  He wasn't fond of clothing.  It was his house, his
rules.  If it per chance happened to be a little chilly in the evenings,
he'd wear only a white t-shirt and white socks, sometimes just his robe.
To this day, the image of a nice looking man, or most any fit man, in
t-shirt and socks, is erotic and attractive to me.  I did ask him why he
was naked a lot, and his simple response was that it felt comfortable.  He
was not shy of being naked around me.  I guess he thought that because I
was a boy, I wouldn't mind.  And actually, I didn't.  It was a good thing
for me to see an adult male body during my puberty stages.  I got used to
seeing him naked.  I had no sexual feeling toward him, but I enjoyed his
casualness and openness.
	The house he owned had two levels, the main ground floor, and a
same length basement.  The laundry room, his tool room, a room that never
got anything put in it, an open space extra shower, and a wreck room were
downstairs.  He had the wreck room set up nice, it was comfortable with
carpeting, a couch, two chairs, a television center and a pool table.  I
loved it, but mostly, we spent our time upstairs.  My room was the spare
bedroom, and not furnished much since I was pretty temporary.
	I must say that for the record, I had always had more of an
interest in boys then girls, and I have been a gay man all my life.  My
sexual awakening had nothing to do with my dad.  He was a cool guy, open
minded, and I became a good, sexually responsible person because of him.
Now, in remembering time sequences and matters we talked about, they will
be pretty accurate, although after this many years, it wouldn't be true to
say word for what things we said, but they will be close.
	About a month after I was staying with my dad, I had come home late
afternoon from playing outside with friends.  I turned the TV on in the
living room, but got bored and started wandering around the house.  I went
downstairs.  Dad must not have heard me at all, but when I stepped into the
wreck room, I saw him lying on the couch.  The entry was behind him, and he
didn't know I was there for a moment.  But what I saw froze me in my
tracks.  He was naked.  On the TV screen was a video of a man and woman
having sex, and my dad was playing with his cock.  Until then, I'd never
really seen his penis erect, but at that moment I did, and he was stroking
it up and down.  I don't know what made him know I was there, but he jumped
up, glanced at me, and got up and turned the VCR off and sat back down.
"Hi there."  He said, "I didn't know you were home."
	I didn't know a thing about what he was doing, so I wasn't sure
what to think.  I answered, "Yeah, I got bored."  Not knowing what else to
do and not having any questions in my head, I turned and left, retreating
to my room.  I lay on my bed and grabbed a book I was reading, as I had and
still do read a lot.
	Some minutes later, I saw my dad's head appear in the doorway.
"Hey, can we talk?"
	"About what?"  I asked.
	He shrugged his naked shoulders.  "About what you saw me doing
downstairs."
	I sat up and put the book aside.  "Okay."  When he came in, he was
still naked.  His penis was longer then it usually was, but soft, and shiny
looking.  He sat down on my bed and just looked at me for a minute.  I was
used to him being naked so it wasn't unusual.
	"Ricky, do you know anything about sex?"  I shook my head to his
question.  "Okay, well, you're at an age when your body is going to start
changing, growing in a lot of ways.  You see how I have hair on me
everywhere, and above my penis?"  I nodded.  I think I had started feeling
a little embarrassed, but I was attentive.
	"What you saw me doing downstairs is called masturbation.  Do you
ever find your penis hard, Ricky?"
	"Sometimes, dad.  I think mostly when I wake up."
	He chuckled, and nodded.  "Yeah, I always wake up that way."  I
guess I had given him a questioning look because he also said, "I mean I
wake up with my penis hard too.  And a lot of times after I wake up, I do
what you saw me doing downstairs...masturbating."
	"Why?  What happens?"  I asked.
	"It's normal, Ricky.  That's what I want you to know.  You'll be
feeling like doing it any time now, and I want you to know that it's okay,
it's normal.  Almost every guy does it, throughout the rest of life.  There
is sex between men and women.  You don't know anything about that either,
do you?"  He ruffled my hair and I shook my head.  "Okay, there's plenty of
time to learn about that, but I don't want you to be shy about
masturbation.  And mostly, it's called jacking off."
	"Why did you stop when I saw you?"  I asked.  I think the question
threw him for a loop, because he scratched his head, trying to find an
answer.
	"Ah, Ricky, guys don't do it in front of each other, and they don't
talk about it much either.  You're my son, and since this came up, I don't
want you to be...afraid to ask me questions."
	"Why do you masturbate?"  I was an intelligent kid, lord knows.  I
had no trouble with the word, and my dad used the word quite easily.
	"Well, after you do it long enough, son, you cum.  You make sperm.
It's a white stuff that makes babies in mommies."  Dad then started
touching his penis as he talked, and it grew.  I found it fascinating.
Fascinating in what way, I had no idea at the time.  I remember being bug
eyed at how huge it looked.  I was so young.  "Guys jack off to do this, to
feel a...a pleasure in making sperm.  It feels good, Ricky.  You'll know
what I mean when you can do it too."
	Being a brave little guy, I asked, "Can you show me?"
	Dad scratched the side of his head again, looking down at his
crotch.  Today, I wonder if he actually realized at the time that he'd
gotten hard again, like I'd seen him downstairs.  His answer didn't come
quickly, but he finally said, "I don't know, Rick.  I said before, guys
don't jack off in front of each other.  It's a personal thing.  We do
sexual things with women."
	"Okay," I responded.  Hell, what did I know?  My curiosity about
masturbation had started, but I just accepted what dad said.
	He nodded, standing up.  I honestly couldn't stop from looking at
his erection.  It was a fascination, since it was a new thing to me.  Yet I
did ask him, "Dad, why is it shiny?"  I pointed at his cock.
	He smirked.  "Because when I masturbate, I put oil on it.  It feels
better that way when I use my hand to stroke up and down."  He started to
leave, then stopped at the doorway.  He looked like he was thinking.  After
a few seconds, he turned back around.  "Hey, I guess it wouldn't hurt to
show you what happens when you jack off, Rick."
	As I write about this past part of my life, I realize things I'd
never thought of.  On that day, he stopped calling me Ricky, and started
calling me Rick.  He started letting me grow up.  Wonders never cease!
	Dad sat back down on my bed, and I crossed my legs, grabbing a
pillow and putting it in my lap.  I had no idea what I was about to see.
Dad laid on his back and put one hand behind his head and took his hard on
in the other.  "Just watch now," he told me.  He started moving his hand up
and down like I'd seen him doing downstairs.
	I honestly don't know how to explain what I was thinking as I sat
to the side of him and watched him do something I'd never seen anyone else
do.  Under my pillow my little cock was hard and I was aware of it for the
first time, I guess, but I didn't think about touching myself at all at the
moment.
	So I watched a bit, and he said, "I'll tell you when the sperm is
about to come.  You'll always feel when it's about to happen."
	"Okay."
	The only way I can explain my view of this is that he went from
slowly stroking up and down, until he felt comfortable letting me watch,
and then his motions started speeding up.  I'd say that it was all of four
or five minutes before he said to me, "Okay, give me your hand."  I wasn't
sure why, but I put my left hand out and he took it and put my fingers to
his shaft.  "I'm about to come, Rick.  Feel what happens to my penis when
it happens."  He wrapped his hand around my small hand and stroked again.
"Okay, here it comes."
	A lot of things happened for me at one time.  My hand was moving, I
started seeing white stuff shoot from his cock, and my hand felt the pulse
in his shaft.  It was like a heartbeat.  And dad was panting like he'd just
run ten miles.  His sperm splashed all over his hairy chest and stomach.
It all seemed quick, and when he started calming down, the last of his
sperm simply oozed out and dripped down his shaft and on our fingers.
	I was so surprised and fascinated I didn't know what to think.  He
let his grip go and I took my own hand away.  His chest was heaving up and
down, and his hard cock was visibly pulsing.  "Wow!"  I remember saying.
"Wow, dad!"  I also remember thinking that I was going to see pee, but when
I saw the sperm, something I didn't know about, I was...amazed.
	Dad laughed, sitting up, looking at his sperm all over his chest.
"So this is what happens, Rick."  I watched his hard on slowly go soft, and
he was holding his left hand up, the hand he did it with, because it was
messy.  The pulse of his shaft was still tingling in the palm of my own
messy hand.  "It's messy," He laughed again, "but it feels good."
	I was speechless then.
	"Now I need to clean up."  He stood, and turned so that I was
looking at him and he at me.  "What do you think?"
	Seconds later, I was in more of a thinking frame of mind.  "I can
do that?"
	My dad had a deep, big laugh, and I heard it then.  "Yeah, kiddo,
eventually.  Now that you know what it's all about, you'll know what to
expect.  I'm gonna hop in the shower."  As he left he stopped and turned to
me from the doorway again.  "Rick, listen.  Guys don't talk about these
things.  If you have any questions, ask me, but we don't talk about it.  So
keep it to yourself.  What I'm saying is that I don't want you to tell
anyone about this.  Okay?"
	I nodded.
	"Not even mom.  This is guy stuff, Rick.  Do you understand?"  I
nodded.  I remember him looking at me sternly, then his face softened and
he nodded too.  "You okay?"  I nodded again.  He watched me a moment
longer.  "Okay.  I'm gonna shower and make us something to eat."
	"Okay dad," I responded.  I was still in a state of bewilderment
about everything, but I was...looking forward to something new.  And
exciting...

I hope you readers enjoy the events of my past, as they were the exploring
grounds of my growing into manhood and personal male sexuality.  What my
father showed me was just the beginning of a great and new territory
between us.  I will state here that we never became sexual, because my dad
is straight, but events of learning and experience in self pleasure did
occur between us, and I will to the best of my memory share more in the
future with all of you.  I do not know how other fathers interacted with
their sons about sexuality, but I had one great dad, and he wasn't afraid,
even after I told him I was gay, to let me know the pleasures of
masturbation and sexual awareness.  Comments are gladly taken at
RandomThoughts46@aol.com, and are greatly appreciated.