Eighth grade. It seems like another lifetime. A life of school, Boy Scouts, video games, goofing around, getting in trouble. We spent the summers on our bikes, in the pool, pushing the lawnmower, and fantasizing.

The summer before high school was a transition to the many new things in life to come at me. Puberty had arrived with hair, some zits, and an endless hard-on that resisted any attempt to go away or be stuffed into underwear, jeans, pajamas, or a swimsuit.

I was genetically gifted with a large cock and balls, but had not yet mastered the fine male arts of penis and testicle management. I was a wiry string bean with an outsize dick and balls trying to navigate the visual stimulation of summer at the beach and the pool and friend’s backyards in shorts and square-cut trunks (my mother thought Speedos were too revealing).

I often had a shirt on to cover my crotch; among the greatest challenges to the pubescent man is trying to hide your hard-on! With all of the attractive boys and men about, I had my share of embarrassing moments.

We’ve all had these inconvenient moments, but we also revel in the view of an accidental or intentional hard-on in someone’s jeans, briefs, jams, or swimwear. That bulge, straining at the fabric that barely keeps it in, gives us endless fantasies of feeling it, peeling it off, sucking it, or yielding to its bulging promise.

My earliest and most inconvenient moment came (literally!) swimming in the local community pool. The searing summer days were perfect for lounging at the edges of the pool watching the world go by from a low vantage point.

I would hang my arms and shoulders on the pool’s edge, and suspend my body in the deeper reaches of the pool, away from the little ones and out of the swim lanes. I could easily press my entire torso and legs against the smooth, cool tile wall underwater, and enjoy the sun on my shoulders and arms while cooling the rest.

This afforded an opportunity for me to rub my nylon trunks and hardening cock against the slick pool wall, and effortlessly bob up and down with the pool’s wake. There was even a perfectly placed horizontal accent tile with a raised and rounded profile- perfect for finding the head of my cock and further arousing me.

As you well know, young men cannot control their orgasms very well. I was no different, especially my very first one (discounting night discharges).

I hugged the pool wall tightly and slid my cock up and down rhythmically, my head bumping over the ceramic molding. My balls were trapped in the nylon mesh net of the trunks, and remained inside them. My cock did not, however, and it slid up and out the top of the trunks just as the first waves of orgasm caused my body to shudder and convulse. My first shots of cum ever went straight up and floated around my abdomen, and then floated off into the pool.

Nearly losing my grip on the wall, I experienced that strange, uncontrollable wave of orgasm so difficult to describe. Ecstasy, pleasure, a high, muscle convulsions, joy, guttural nerve responses; all of that and more.

I visited that pool wall dozens of times, and others like it as I moved into high school and college, always touching on that memory of the first time.