First journal – Part 1

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First journal – Part 1This is a true story…From very early on nylon shorts have became perhaps my favorite garment… and with the satin and silk items, it turned into a huge fetish of mine, worn not only by me; it is also a massive turn on when I see it worn by girls.But there is a reason for all this. I found it cathartic to uncover these stories; feels like a huge weight being lifted from my shoulders and has helped me understand myself and accept and now embrace its consequences.Happened back home in my South American country in the early 70’s. I was then in fifth grade, and I had just turned 11.Up to that point I had not discovered masturbation to the end. My personality and the environment I lived in did not create many opportunities from where, or from whom, to learn this practice. Orgasms did not exist for me… yet.Prior to that I had many times erections and for many reasons, often when waking up, which rapidly subsided.I did enjoy touching myself over my bed sheets, which were always made of this light white cotton… It amused me seeing the tenting effect that my hard member performed under the fabric.Nothing ever happened beyond that as I would soon lost interest or had to stop when someone where around the house, which was always the case… there were 5 people there at all times; which with the exception of my two teenager aunts, where all adults.No idea if anyone knew or even suspected of my frolicking activities.One thing for sure intensified those feelings… don’t know why. For a little while I owned a couple of white cotton shorts; a little number in a thick, almost denim fabric which I used for my PE classes… and another pair that my mum got me for going out. These were made of a nice cotton blend that I suspect contained rayon as it had a very brilliant and a hint of shine when exposed to sunlight.Made to the length of modern short boxers; just covering the legs with an inseam of two to three centimeters.Cuffed legs with three elastic bands at the back and a simulated belt, made with the same fabric at the front with a D buckle… the shorts had a couple of short pleats which made them extremely comfortable, a plastic concealed zipper and side pockets made the front look very clean.I liked the way they fitted me, the elastics, cuffs and pleats resembled the sprinters that were yet to come. Very form fitting.Those were the first white items of clothing that draw my attention to my sexual organs… loved to touch myself over that soft fabric. I wore those shorts almost all the time.I wasn’t happy that I had to wear the stiff (not really) PE cotton shorts, as i wasn’t allowed by my mum to wear my favorite ones to that activity, so I managed to ruin them one time by climbing on a rusty football net frame; my mum tried to remove the rust stain as much as she could but it left a yellowish mark across the seat.I was excited at the prospect of being able to wear my favorite shorts at school this time, but it was not to be. An afternoon she showed up with a replacement; a pair of the then highly innovative Adidas nylon sprinters, almost satin, in a dazzling white, the now famous black trefoil logo on the left leg and three bright red stripes on each side, with the rounded split on the sides… I was fascinated by the way they looked.Back then the cotton liner was very smooth and thin as well and the nylon itself was not quite as transparent as later Adidas models, made rather of a very pure, bright and shiny white fabric. There are a couple of my new ones with that visual property.She told me to use this and not the dressy shorts for PE class… I didn’t complain and I could not wait for the class to try them on… that afternoon I did sneak them to the washroom and I put them on… I fell in love with them right away and while seeing myself in them in the mirror fascinated at the shiny properties; I remember starting to get excited and I touched myself over the silky fabric… it was a fantastic sensation feeling my growing erection under the soft nylon… got hooked and connected sexually with my new shorts from that first day.Every once in a while I would go to the washroom and wear them and play a bit; I wasn’t allowed to wear them anywhere else as they were bought with a specific purpose; only for school.Obviously at school i could not indulge in sexual fantasies and there were enough distractions and I wasn’t particularly sexualized by then so there was no problem.The rules at school back then, called for the uniforms for gymnastics to be exclusively in white, from head to toe, the running shoes, socks, the shorts and a plain white cotton t-shirt… Since mine had this small colored detail on the sides, I felt very proud of the way they did stand out among what my fellows had, who often worn only cotton straight legs (boring).What I never imagined was that this soft and flimsy material would not offer much protection for what was to come, quite on the contrary, as you’ll see… I was small and my new shorts were comfortably loose and since they had a cotton liner I stopped wearing my regular cotton briefs under then on a hot day; I felt free but this caused some unforeseen consequences… if I was moving vigorously the fabrics would rub me in an unexpected ways… A couple of occasions, during class, those frictions would get me horny and embarrassed türbanlı şırnak escort I would try to conceal my excitement by adopting any position that would relieve the tension between my legs. I would sit, crouch or bend down, pretending to tie my shoelaces, always worked. Or so I thought.Not uncommon in my continent, more so in those times, the resources dedicated to the educational system were scarce. Therefore my old school did not have a gym, only a vast patio; where several activities took place, including recess…Those years, and because of the limited space and availability; the schools were crowded, so that semester, in Summer, we had a special Physical Education classes done over the weekend. There were no dedicated teachers for that discipline yet, so your regular teachers would have that as an additional responsibility. After all, the whole concept simply consisted of stretching, running, jumping and playing football (soccer for the north Americans)In my school, our classroom was on the side of the building opposite to the patio. Quite far, and at the end of a large corridor, the windows facing a steep hill covered in trees and bushes; very secluded really.Since I come from a broken home; I met my father a few years later, my mum, being the older on a family of 10 siblings, also with an absent father due to alcohol abuse, had to work to sustain the family, so I grew up pretty much alone, among people at least 10 years older. While well loved, I never had the fortune of dedicated parents or a nurturing hand, in a traditional way, in my developing years.So my teacher, that I had from first to sixth grade, who was perhaps on her mid or late 20’s, happened to be a great educator, very efficient, strict but very caring, warm and sympathetic. Aware of my reality, she took closer attention of me and took me really under her wings.Her attentions helped me achieve a very good academic record; on three years I was first in the class and I was always among the top three students, I was also well behaved, most of the time.Being always a bit of a loner, I would often stay in class, during recess, studying or doing my chores and she would sit beside me and guide me through whatever I was doing.Didn’t help the fact that she had these gorgeous big green eyes under her glasses, in contrast with her pleasant round face, which I found very attractive and I developed this very innocent and very platonic crush on her and a sort of secret adoration, I have very fond memories of her still, for this and many other reasons.But she was strict as well… you see, mine was a boys only school and she did not like to be crossed, and she was a real believer in the practice of physical punishment as part of her disciplinary style… not uncommon, as another characteristic of the system back then, which was hugely influenced by the English educational system. The disciplinary code often incorporated forms of physical punishment to deal with unruly behavior; it was a widely accepted method then.I recall that she had a black, thin and flexible cane… I saw it many times, many boys being disciplined during class, canned right in front of the other students; I suspect as a way to deter unruly behavior… me? Never, I was after all, a good boy, who almost never got into trouble, so up to that point I never had to experience the effect of that tool or the humiliation of being disciplined in front of my peers… One day, there was this particularly nice and sunny day, while doing some routine exercises, I was perhaps a bit loud and had perhaps not paid attention to something she had said, I’m not sure; the fact is that she got very upset at me.I have been thinking, many years after this, and I have come to the conclusion that really there was nothing that I could have done that could have truly justified what ended up happening… I suspect the reasons were of a different nature as this, and later events may indicate. You tell me.Anyway, she yelled at me to come to her side right away, shouted if I was being a smart ass and what I thought I was doing and so on, very irate… she told her helper (an older student) to keep an eye on the class, and to continue with the exercises. She grabbed me hard by the arm and dragged me away from the patio, admonishing me all along, towards our empty classroom, which was, as I said, quite afar and secluded from everyone. Remember that we were the only class in the school that day… I was extremely nervous as I was not used to be treated that way, and could only meekly stammer “sorry”She took me inside the classroom, closed and locked the door; and I started to panic… the curtains were closed shut and all went as per her routine; beside her desk was another sturdy one, narrower and lower where she often kept our papers, she shouted at me to extend my arms to the front and place my hands spread against the edge of the small desk and to also spread my legs wide apart, leaning forward, which obviously left your butt fully accessible to her and in a very precarious balance. Punishment was always done over the clothes and this was no exception, but I was not wearing my normal double protection of cotton trousers and underwear, only my flimsy short nylon shorts; I regretted immediately not wearing my cotton undies.She did not türbanlı şırnak escort bayan say many words; just berated me in a very stern voice; saying that I needed a lesson to learn to never disrespect her again… I started to whimper when I saw her reaching for the cane that used to hang beside the blackboard.I remember very well the fear I felt, but it was also combined with a strange sensation in my belly that I learned long after that are called “butterflies” (I am feeling them the same right now, while I remember and write all this)… I started to shiver and I just stared at the floor, extremely nervous… and then I heard the distinctive swooshing sound the cane made in mid air and she struck, hard… I swear, I saw lights and felt this sharp burning pain; I let out a yelp and I immediately straightened, reaching for my burning buttocks. I noticed that the sound of the cane swooshing through the air and striking was louder that I remember hearing when struck the cotton trousers of the other k**s.My reaction really made her mad, she screamed at me to resume the position, which I did, now sobbing… then another strike came, felt harder, and more painful, but this time I fought the reflex to pull away to avoid upsetting her even more, and hoping desperately for this to end. The burning sensation was unbearable, but an unexpected consequence of all that emotional and physical torment resulted in a growing erection, that started to turn, rather rapidly into an unknown hard and painful one, and it was very confusing for my young mind… then, as more strikes came, my body was now shaking violently with the obvious pain and this strange mixture of pleasure.. but I was now crying, openly, begging and pleading for mercy and feeling overwhelmed by my feelings and by my body’s reaction, but I did not pulled away anymore… By now I started to clearly feel my now hot throbbing member being subjected to ever increasing sensations. Never felt such a strong erection and since I am uncut, and until that day, my penis head was always covered and protected and never exposed to any touch, friction of fabrics, or anything like that. This time, because of the intensity, my foreskin pulled right back fully uncovering the glans. Also, the position I was in made it worst, as the violent back and forth movement cause by the flagellation caused my now fully uncovered hardened head to violently rub against the fabric of my shorts, giving me these very sharp pangs of pleasure and agony, and dramatically increasing my excitement… all this was mixed with the burning pain in my buttocks and the feverish feeling on my limbs and face.She hit me at least two more times, and I could only beg and cry uncontrollably, utterly confused by the searing pain in my butt and the ever growing excitement in the front of my shorts, the butterflies in my belly were going wild and my heart could not stop pounding in my chest, I was in such a sheer panic that I started to pee myself, in very, very short squirts, which stained the place in my shorts where my penis was resting and rubbing against… At this point and because of the obvious visual evidence, she realized what was happening (or maybe she was expecting it?), and shouted at me if I was enjoying it and if I wanted more… I could not utter an answer, and just sobbed uncontrollablyAt one point she stopped, came closer, grabbed me forcibly by the shoulders and turned me around, towards her, I could not stop crying… there was now no way of hiding my fully awakened member, now more in evidence under the wet white nylon; embarrassment was added to my emotional turmoil… she looked down to my shorts, held her gaze to it for a few moments, and she reached for my body, squeezed the heated tip of my penis, and I gasped, shocked by the unexpected sharp and pleasant sensation. Involuntarily I arched my body back, thrusting my pelvis forward; and reached for the edge of the desk behind me and she kept the pressure, nudging, twisting and turning for a few short moments while I squirmed in ecstasy. A complete unknown feeling for me.She asked me if I did like it, I said nothing.At some point she grabbed me under my arms and sat me in the small desk, facing her… she pushed me on my back, and proceeded to force spread my legs wide open over the sides of the narrow desk, leaving my knees bent and the legs dangling free over the side edges of the desk in a perfect spread-eagle position.She ordered me to put my arms way up, straight over my head and ordered me to close my eyes so threat of further punishment… She then slid her hands up my inner thighs and under my shorts, pulled the thin and wet cotton lining over to the side, positioning my semi erect penis pointing up towards my belly and now only covered by the wet and flimsy white nylon. Her warm hands touching me in such a direct way only increased exponentially my excitement and my erection returned with a vengeance… I could not stop shivering and whimpering, my body completely overcome by emotions, sensations and feelings This time, she came around the side of the desk; told me I was being very bad and that she was going to make sure that I’ll never again do this… and this time the cane hit me, I supposed quite a bit more gently, but right over my türbanlı escort şırnak exposed hard on… Because of the now thinner protection of only nylon, I can still feel, or remember the sensation it caused, so new and utterly unknown to me then, and so complex in its intensity that I let out another scream… twice again she hit me while I squirmed in pain and pleasure, I started to pee myself again, still just in short squirts at the time as an erect penis does not lend itself to both functions (not necessarily true as you can see)… I truly believe she may have become excited as well (if she wasn’t already at the sights I was presenting to her), as she started to now sharply tap, not hitting, with the cane, very rapidly, along the whole length of my penis, around the sides, from different angles, carefully avoiding the testicles, to then really focusing exclusively on the head, now painfully swollen… the sensation become alarming, and it felt particularly intense when some of those strikes started hitting the very tip of the glans, my erection had now turned into an immense source of sensations, mix of pain and extremely intense pleasure. I began to moan uncontrollably.Now, the very wet fabric made it worst, as the nylon got cold very fast where it was not in contact with my skin, it happen that due to the rapid movements, it made sporadic contact with the heated parts of my anatomy, adding even more to the myriad of sensations… The slappy sound of the cane hitting wet nylon and flesh got pretty loud and somewhat managed to excite me even more.This continued for what I felt was a very long, long time, constantly growing in intensity, I could no longer think. I was just overpowered by the excitement; and then, suddenly, it came, what I believe was my first orgasmic climax; I felt my head spinning, I felt my face tremendously flushed, I stopped hearing things and felt this intense heat starting in my pelvis, reach to my aching buttocks, numbing the pain and traveling fast towards my head and feet and back, in waves, engulfing my whole body, and my heart felt like it was going to jump right off my chest… This was followed simultaneously, and because of the uncontrolled fear I guess, by a gush of fluid that now freely expelled from my throbbing member, what was it? A mix of urine and semen? Was I too young to ejaculate at 11? I couldn’t tell, never had experienced anything even remotely similar… the hot fluids, or mix of them, started to run freely over the side of my shorts, fully drenching them and adding even more so to the sensory overload I was experiencing.. She continued tapping, a bit more gently and then she started sliding the cane over my penis until my body stopped shaking, then she stopped… I was out of breath, a mix of weeping, moaning, panting and trembling… My eyes were closed all this time, my arms still over my head and I heard her placing the cane on top of one of the desks and she approached me, She tenderly placed her very warm hand, right on top of my very wet and hot subsiding hardness and left that hand there, perfectly still, for a few minutes until I calmed down a bit (this would be another sensation that I do remember very well, and I yearn for at all times)I could not move and just lay on my back with her hand still on me, without moving but trembling… After a few minutes, she told me to sit up, helped me to come down from the desk, and told me quietly and softly to go to the back of the room, where my street clothes were and to change my clothes and to wait in the classroom… remember that there were no gyms or change rooms back then… and I walked there, slowly and still shaking with the experience and utterly confused… She left the room and I changed and stayed in the classroom quietly, carefully sat at my desk as the pain in my butt started to be felt again and looked out the window through the now opened curtains until the whole class came back; no one said anything as they knew that I was punished. The whole episode could not have lasted more than half an hour.The pain had already subsided when I got home; I proceeded to wash my soiled shorts myself so no one would figured out what had happened. tenderness remained in my reddish welts left in my buttocks; my mind kept going back to the unexplained reaction of my body; it wasn’t right, I wasn’t supposed to enjoy being castigated. A part of my mind was frightened and had no desire of repeating the experience, but every time I replayed the events in my head, I felt excitement.Back at school the following Monday I could barely look at her face, but she acted as if nothing ever happened, she kept the same attention she always had for me, which only added to my emotional conflict.There was never a word about this particular experience after that day. And until now, it has been one of my most guarded secret (among others)After my traumatic, yet enormously exciting experience of my first canning, I developed a strange mix of fascination and panic for corporal punishment.A couple of times a few of my schoolmates went through the traditional punishment in front of class; I was fixated on the images and I intently watched if anyone of them had a reaction similar to mine; never happened.. I felt confused and a bit embarrassed at getting excited in those occasions. I believe the connection that I feel, between pain and pleasure was discovered and defined in those few weeks.Strangely enough, for some reason I was never castigated in front of the class… perhaps I was well behaved in class, and as I said I had a very good academic performance.But it happened to me again…but this time it all became decidedly more sexual in nature. You’ll see.

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