My Private Mexico Lessons in Life (Part I)

I suspect that nearly every boy goes through a period when he tries to give up masturbation. Some may do it for religious reasons and some as a matter of self-discipline. Or, as in my case, fear of harming yourself. Most of us have found that it just doesn't work. Here's my experience.

This incident took place shortly after we made one of our moves back to Mexico. As a result of the move I had a bunch of big transitions to deal with, all at the same time. I was plunged back into Mexico after getting used to California. School had been in session a month and a half when I transferred back to the American Academy. The other kids had already found their place in the pecking order. I was the new kid on the block even though I'd attended that school in the past. I was faced with fitting into the social life of a snob school, avoiding the bullies and braggarts, and getting up-to-date on my classwork.

I had not been back at the school in Mexico more than a week when a totally unplanned sexual encounter messed up my head. I was sitting on the toilet in a restroom at school. A guy came in and pissed. Then he moved to stand at the lavatory. By peeking through the gap alongside the stall door I knew who he was. An acquaintance but not actually a friend.

The door of the single stall was located at my left side as I sat on the pot. I had some previous experience with this restroom. A person standing at the lavatory, which was right next to the stall partition, could back up a few inches and glance through the gap next to the door. If the guy inside the stall slid forward a little on the pot, his dick was on display for the other guy, along with any attention he might be giving the dick. Likewise, if the guy at the sink stood in just the right place, he could exhibit his fly to the boy in the stall, perhaps squeezing his zipper or rubbing his pants to call attention to a hidden boner. These things could happen even though the stall door remained closed.

All you readers know the routine from your own experiences. Both of us did some shifting around and peeking, trying to pretend that it was accidental, but also signalling that we were aware of each other and that something interesting might take place. The guy at the sink was trying to get a look at my lap without yet committing himself. And I was curious about him. After a few seconds of this "mating dance" we knew that we had something in common. I carefully slid forward on the toilet seat and let my boner stick up.

As soon as I showed my hard-on, the dude at the lavatory unzipped his pants and displayed his own hard prick. Excellent! An unexpected chance to get my nuts off!

I suppose we could have opened the stall door and exchanged feelies, but all we did was simultaneously masturbate while staring at each other through the gap. He stood in exactly the right place for me to see his stiff dick and moving hand. I got up from the pot, turned toward the gap and did the same for him.

A few moments went by while we silently jacked off, occasionally stopping to show off the size and stiffness our aroused peters.

The jacking quickly reached its conclusion and the moment of ejaculation washed over me. I was 14 and I loved masturbating. God, how I looked forward every time to that growing sensation that culminated in a fleeting instant of exquisite spasm in the base of my dick while the cum spurted out!

I swiveled to face the pot so my cum would spray into the bowl. The other guy also turned and - although I couldn't see his cumshot - I knew he ejaculated into the sink.

Suddenly he was in a rush, moving quickly toward the door, zipping his pants while he hurried out.

As I left my stall it was automatic to look into the lavatory so I could see his cum. But what I saw scared the daylights out of me.

My momentary partner had left several iridescent blobs of cum in the sink. In one of those blobs was a dark red sphere about 1/8" in diameter. Blood! The guy had shot a drop of blood in his cum.

The pleasure of the encounter evaporated. I didn't know cum ever contained blood. The sight scared me. It must be a sign of terrible sickness, I thought. Maybe cancer. Cancer of the dick! Going back over the incident in my mind, I asked myself questions. Had I touched him? No. Had he touched me? No. Had I touched or even smelled of his cum? No. Could there have been even a tiny chance of contamination? No. Not even fingertips touching through the gap. And yet I was frightened pissless that I'd been exposed to sure death.

If that crisis had happened today, I would have Googled "blood in semen" and learned that the occurrence is rare and usually harmless, a transient response to a momentary disturbance of the male reproductive system, such as a digital prostate exam. But in Mexico hardly anybody had a computer at that time, so Googling anything was not an option.

So, in addition to the turmoil of the move, I now had two new worries: First, that I might have been infected with a lethal disease by masturbating with the guy. And second, that masturbation itself might be dangerous. Maybe the dude jacked too much and that's why there was blood in his cum! What did that mean for me? I certainly jacked frequently. Continuing to jack off might be damaging to my organs and result in blood in my cum, God forbid!

I couldn't do anything about the first worry, but I could control the second one. No more masturbation. Give it up. Don't even think about it. Walking out of that restroom, I knew I was going cold turkey. My jacking days were over. I'd shot my final wad.

That was around the third week of October. I kept worrying about that strange experience. I put every ounce of my will-power to work, forcing myself never to touch my penis except when urinating or showering, in hopes that I was going to survive my encounter with an unknown but possibly lethal disease as well as the unknown but frightening effects of cumming every day for more than a year.

About two and a half unbearable weeks passed during which I was often erect and always scared about that drop of blood in the other boy's cum.

End of Part I (To be continued)

Arnold Stockford