My first-time story happened when I was 14. But I must go back more than four years to tell the start of the story.

I had a neighbor named Roger. Roger was almost three years older than me. Older than my sister but younger than my brother. Roger used to come to our house to play games like Monopoly and Crazy Eights and watch TV. He wasn't exactly my brother's friend, or my sister's, he was just a kid who hung around a lot. We also went to his house and played in his big yard. Roger would ignore me when older kids were around, but he would let me play with his HotWheels and he would let me help him build models when it was just the two of us.

One day I was playing with Roger pretending he was a monster, and I was a hero from a movie, and I vanquished him and kept him pinned down as he struggled to get away. Roger got red in the face and left the room. Roger and I had played like this many times, but suddenly he didn't want to. A few weeks later I was pushing him around and he fought back. His legs and arms were a magic cage and I had to escape. I squirmed and struggled as the cage closed in. I was pinned face down on the couch with Roger laying on top of me. After a few minutes Roger let me go. He turned away from me on the couch and told me I had to go home. After that day we sometimes played pretend and fought each other. I noticed that each time he would be hard in his shorts or pants. I knew that teenage boys were like that, so I wasn't surprised. When we played pretend in his basement after a while, he would let go of me and go to the bathroom. I would play with some toys while he was in there. Often, he would make noises when he was in the bathroom. One day I got curious and listened close to the door. I couldn't make sense of the sounds. I could hear breathing and a wet slapping, and he would make weird noises. When he came out, we might play with his cars or models, but we didn't wrestle. I noticed that he would sometimes have a wet spot on his shorts. I figured that the contact was making him pee a little.

In July we would set up a tent in my backyard and some of us would sleep in it to avoid the heat. We didn't have air conditioning so being in a tent that would cool down soon after sunset was a treat. A few times Roger slept over. We would play our games if it was just the two of us in the tent. I would hear someone walking towards us then the loud zipper of the tent opening, and Roger would quickly move away from me. I didn't know why, but wrestling and playing was something that we never did unless we were alone.

One night, Roger, my older brother and me were in the tent. I usually fell asleep first as I had an earlier bedtime. I would listen to Roger and my brother talk about things I didn't fully understand and drift off to sleep. Roger slept in the middle so that I could move away from the talking and fall asleep.

In the middle of the night, I felt Roger hugging me. I was facing away, and he rubbed against me like he did sometimes when we wrestled. This time he was very gentle and slow. I thought that maybe he was asleep, or he thought I was asleep. I could feel his hardness against me like a banana. It was rubbing up against the back of my pajamas and in between my legs. I didn't want to say anything and possibly wake up my brother, so I just pretended I was sound asleep. Eventually Roger pulled his hips away from me, although he still lay with his face and body pressed up against me. I heard him breathing heavily like he did in the bathroom. I even heard the wet slapping noise for a while. He struggled for breath and then made a choked sound like he was struggling not to make a noise. It wasn't the only time that happened, only the first.

One day in his basement I was on top of him as he lay back, and he told me he would knock me off without using his hands. I was allowed to hold on to his shirt with just one hand and he tried to buck me off. He really tried, but I was able to stay on. He was breathing hard and grunting and pushing me up in the air with his hips. Then he grunted loudly and gave up. When I got up, I noticed a wet spot on his shorts the size of a pancake. Even my shorts got a little wet. He went and changed and made me stay there until my shorts had dried off. He made me promise not to tell anybody about his pee problem.

For the rest of the summer every few days Roger would find a way to play with me alone. When we played in his basement he would often end up with a big wet spot. If we played outside or at my house, he would suddenly stop and go home. He wanted to play the bucking game but after the second time I didn't like the game. Then I saw a cartoon with a dragon and he became a dragon. I flew on him as we avoided arrows. I had fun until he started to pant, and he peed himself.

One day we were hiking far from our houses, and we were playing in the woods. He trapped me against a fallen log. After a long time of holding me against the log he let go and stepped backwards. I turned around and looked. He was a few feet away and I could see his bum. His shorts were pulled down a bit and his bum was moving forward and backward. He had both of his hands in front of him. Then he held still. His bum began to shake, and he made the groaning noise I had heard through the bathroom door many times. He pulled up his shorts and we continued the hike. I asked him if he peed, and he said that he tried to stop but couldn't.

At the end of summer, we were in my house. We would never wrestle with people around, but Roger wanted to try something different. His friends had done it and he wanted to try for the first time with me. He lay over me on the carpet and pressed his lips against mine. I turned my head violently, but he pulled me back and kissed me. He even touched my lips with his tongue. I squirmed away. My aunts had kissed me for years and I no longer allowed it. Not even on the cheek. I would fight and run. Now Roger had kissed me on the lips! I ran out of the room and told my mother. She sent me to the living room to watch TV and I don't know what happened next.

After that day I hardly saw Roger. A few times in the fall he came over, but he was always around a group of us, never the two of us alone. I couldn't go over his house unless my sister would go with me. I wanted to go by myself, but the one time I did, Roger said I had to go home. I didn't think about it much. It was just how things were. Roger's father bought a bakery in another town and the following summer they moved away.

As I got older, I began to understand things better. No adult ever explained things, but I heard about masturbation and wet dreams from kids older than me and even from movies. I realized that Roger had masturbated in the bathroom and in the tent. I still didn't understand why he peed when we wrestled. Teenagers got wet when they had dreams about sex, but Roger was awake when we played games. I was starting to get erections. A little bit of contact with my clothes, or the bed, or my hand, and I would get erect. Now I understood why Roger had been so hard all those times.

Our couch had big pillows, and when no one was home I would grind against them. I would put one on the floor and sit on it in my underwear and rock forwards and backwards on top of it. I would sink into it, so it rubbed against my thighs, bum, my balls and my penis. I would rock back and forth for a long time. I had done this many times, but one day I started to get extra excited. I began to breathe funny as I did it and my penis felt really hard and tingly. I decided to reach into my underwear and hold my penis as I rocked. It felt great. The longer I did it the better it felt. Then I started to shake my hips and I squirted. I thought I peed, but it felt fuller and thicker. I squirted again and again. I stopped moving. My hand was all sticky. My underwear had a big wet spot on it and inside there was a pool of clear cream. I stood up and noticed a small wet spot on the cushion. I cleaned up and dabbed the cushion with a cloth. I hoped no one noticed but I made up excuses in my head in case I was asked.

That night I made the connection between my wet underwear and all the times that Roger had wetted the front of his shorts. I realized that it wasn't pee. I remembered those times he was pressed up against me and I understood his excitement, his breathing, his grunting.

For the next two years I grew more gangly and awkward. The girls in school used to give me some attention. At birthday parties I would be invited and end up making out with some pretty girl, but now it seemed no girl had interest in me like that. It was a confusing time. My memories of Roger now combined with an understanding of what he must have felt. I was going through the same feelings. I was very careful about masturbation. Maybe it was because of the first time when I made a stain on the couch. If I had a wet dream, I was always careful to clean and dry my underwear before I put it in the hamper. I cleaned stains on my mattress with a damp cloth.

In the fall of 1979, I took gym class in my second year of high school. It was now optional so the boys who took the class were more sports minded and athletic. I loved the competition and almost all the activities. The first weeks the teacher emphasized fitness. He would make us run and do hard exercises. On hot days he would give us time to shower before the next class. I was not one to stare and not that interested, but one jock was bouncing his back and forth and joking about it. I walked away from the laughter, and I ended up looking at Derek. He seemed to be sorting through his gym bag, but what he was really doing was pretending to look down as he stared into the shower and at his classmates walking by. Down the side of his shorts, he had an erection. I stared long enough to notice how rigid it was. I was afraid he'd notice me, so I quickly toweled off and left.

At first the experience didn't seem too important. At night I would lay in bed and engage in sexual fantasies. Of course, I thought of Roger. I often thought of the day in the woods. I tried to fantasize about girls I knew, but fantasies work best if they are grounded in the reality of what was possible. I thought of a boy like Derek. It could be possible that he would find me attractive enough to want to do things with me. When I touched myself, I imagined he was watching me. The thought of it was intense. In the next few days, I started watching him. He was taller, more muscular, had great hair, etc. The exact type that girls paid attention to, and they did. I don't think he even noticed me. So, one day in gym class, when we were off the field, just the two of us, I talked to him. He was friendly and funny.

In the next few weeks, he talked to me occasionally and I felt that he was at least a little attracted to me. He had told me what classes he had and where he lived. So, one school night I biked to his place with my math text in my backpack. I knocked on his door. His mother answered.

"Is Derek home?"

"Derek!" she yelled over her shoulder, then told me, "Come in."

Derek walked over and asked me, "What are you doing here?"

"I missed Tuesday and I need some help with the math questions."

"Dude, you aren't in my class."

"You have the same teacher. You do the same work."

He agreed to help, and we sat at the kitchen table as he helped me through the work I had missed. When I said I understood, he walked out of the kitchen and called me over. "I'll show you something."

We went through a door, down some steps into the basement. The small basement windows provided little light. When he turned on the light, I saw the layout. Against one wall was a pinball machine. He plugged it in, and it lit up and started making noises. It was a real arcade pinball machine with great artwork and an elaborate play area.

"Try it." He pressed a button and a credit appeared.

"This is amazing."

I played for a while. He just wanted to watch. At first, he was on my right, but then he switched to my left and wedged himself in between the wall and myself. As I played the game, I would shift and my arm would bump into him, but he gave me even less space. At one point the ball bounced and went straight down between the two flippers. I pressed both and neither made contact.

"That's not fair."

"I saw it coming." He pointed to where the ball had bounced. "Just before it hit there you could have shifted the machine and changed its direction. But you have to be careful, if you do it too hard it will tilt the machine. Like this." He placed his hand over mine and flattened it and pushed against it shaking the machine. "Or this." He placed his hand on my waist and moved me forward until I rested against the front of the machine and then he pushed me into the machine jolting it.

As I played, we talked. I asked him about the girls who were always trying to talk to him. He gave short answers, but I did get some details from him. There was making out and heavy petting, but he didn't go beyond that. I told him what it was like for me two years ago. The make out sessions. "But I was different back then, I didn't get excited like I do now." I told him about last year's school dance. A girl had danced with me and spent the song grinding up against the front of my pants.

"Really?" He said excitedly. "What did you do?"

"What could I do? Hang on. I almost had an accident."

"Clean up on aisle five," he commented.

"Exactly! Later I tried to dance with her again, but she had moved on to some other guy."

The talk and the closeness were getting me aroused. I thought for a moment of just leaving, but my compulsion took over. "Would you ever ask a girl to touch it?"

I looked at him, he seemed to be confused about my question.

"Just ask a girl to touch me down there?"

"I would," I told him.

"You'd ask a girl to put her hand on it?"

"I would touch it," I said.

"Prove it."

I was not sure if he was hostile or serious, but I had backed myself into a corner. I placed my hand flat against the front of his jeans. Long seconds passed and then he shifted to move closer to me. His breathing changed and I felt his penis rising and pressing against my hand. Just a small amount of movement from me caused him to shudder and lean in with his cheek nearly touching mine. He had a flat stomach, so the front of his jeans was not too tight. I was able to pull the front of his pants out with my left hand and I plunged my right hand down between his jeans and his underwear. The zipper pressed against the back of my hand, and I felt his shaft. It extended down beyond my hand. We stood like that for a while. I was unable to move my hand much and my arm was extended in an uncomfortable position.

"Stop. Stop," he said breathily. He pulled my hand out and held on to my arm for a long time. I began to think that he was upset about what happened, but then he walked away and pulled my hand to follow.

Farther in the room was a couch across from a TV. He sat down on the far side of the couch, and I sat close beside him.