In the spring of my life, at about age 13, I found myself with an overwhelming curiosity about women. Raised in a strict environment where sex was never mentioned my access to photographs or literature was non existent. I did, however manage to trade, at great sacrifice for several black and white seminude photos ripped from a cheap men's magazine. These brought some satisfaction but the models were clad in shorts and the vagina was still a great mystery to me. I tried to envision what it must look like without success.

Carolyn was a girl in my neighborhood. She was a year older and flowering. Earlier we had been playmates and even bashfully called ourselves girl friend and boyfriend but there had been no physical contact, not even a hug. One hot summer afternoon, having nothing to do, I went to the neighborhood swimming pool. Carolyn was one of the handful of people there. She was laying out in a grassy area wearing a pink two piece bathing suit. I sat beside her, my eyes drawn to her soft budding breasts. I'm sure she noticed and bent over to give me a better view. My hormones were in overdrive. We chatted for a while and I lay beside her. Our bodies were nearly touching, our faces close together I dared a soft kiss and she responded. I pulled her to me and we kissed more passionately. She pulled away and we looked to see if anyone had noticed us. There was an awkward moment of silence as we sat looking around. Finally she announced that she had to leave and asked me to walk her home. She disappeared into the girls dressing room and met me shortly afterward wearing a pair of gym shorts and an oversized T-shirt. We walked along and I. with devious intentions, suggested we cut thru the park. We walked into the woods and stopped beside a large tree. She leaned against it and I kissed her. Our kisses lasted for minutes this time and our bodies pressed tightly together. My hands found her breasts and in an exquisite moment of absolute genius and stupidity combined, slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts into the soft downy fur below. She pulled away from me and began walking the trail. I followed. She wouldn't talk to me. I begged, I pleaded, I tried to be funny. All to no avail. She was pissed! It was well into the next school term before we spoke again.

As with many young teen boys I suppose my facination and curiosity with female sexuality caused problems for I soon discovered masterbation and it became a neccessary "hobby". This experiment with self indulgence, self satisfaction, if you will, took up a lot of my time and other pastimes became secondary. My grades dropped which created immediate concern from my parents who didn't have a clue as to what was befalling me and I certainly wouldn't mention it to them. It was decided that a job was what I needed. My father was sure that a job would teach me responsibility and motivate me to improve my schoolwork. In theory this was a very good idea but in reality it proved to only compound my problem. Through a connection in my mothers family I became the delivery boy of the local newspaper to the patients at the hospital. The paper was tied with a ribbon and given gratis to patients. My job was to say hello and hand over the paper (and a subsciption blank for home delivery). The hospital was large and rambling. I soon was a familiar face and knew many of the nurses, doctors and hospital workers. There were certain wards that were off limits and I respected that. I knew my way around well. The sights, sounds and smells of the hospital became familiar to me and as the days passed the job became ho-hum to me and I longed to be playing baseball or football somewhere. One afternoon I was making my rounds on the third floor which generally held accident cases, post surgery recovery and heart patients. As a general rule I was not allowed to enter a closed door unless a nurse or orderly told me it was ok but any door that was opened or partially opened was ok for me to go in. Most of the doors were open or partially so that day so I delivered my papers and greeted everyone with a smile as I always did. I came to one room along that hall that day that was about a third open, held in place by a footstool. I stepped into the room and there before me was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. The angel was fast asleep lying on top of her covers with one knee up so that her gown was almost at her waist. Her furry triangle was in full view. I was in such a state of shock that I stood there taking in it's beauty and the rest of the world dropped away. At some point I recovered enough to slowly and quietly back out of the room. The memory of that sight is forever etched in my brain. The next day I immediately went to that room as soon as I got to the hospital but the room was empty.

The encounter with "the Angel" put me into a masturbation frenzy. My hobby increased from once a day to every chance I got. I became concerned that I would drain myself of genetic material and never have another orgasm at some point in the future and certainly never father a child. Still, every morning the monster would be waiting impatiently to be satisfied and there was no telling him NO. Eventually an event of drastic proportions would cause me to stop completely for a whole two days! I had a nocturnal emission, a wet dream and before I could do anything to cover or eliminate the evidence my mother discovered it. I plead innocent, confused, bewildered and said that I must have peed the bed but my explanation fell on deaf ears. I left for school that morning feeling like a doomed man awaiting execution. All was quiet and normal at home that evening, as if nothing had happened. Shortly after I had finished my homework and cut out the light that night my father knocked and came in. He sat beside the bed and we talked about sex! He did not lecture me, he talked with me. He said he knew that I masturbated and that it was perfectly normal. He did tell me though that it was better to avoid doing it every day. As he left he winked and asked a question which hit home. He asked if I was in control of my penis or if it was in control of me?

My plan of redemption was simple. I would sleep on my back and wear jockey shorts under my PJ's so that if I had another wet dream the evidence would be on me, not on the bedsheets. I would arise quickly in the morning going about my normal morning tasks thus avoiding and ignoring the impatient monster. I would occupy my mind with thoughts other than women in general and "the Angel" in particular.