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21:40:11 - 2000-01-30

I was 13 years old when I had my first wet dream.

I don't want to make it sound like I had enough wet dreams to father a third world country. I had my share, but it wasn't an every night occurance. It was the first of maybe ...I dunno...ten wet dreams.

But lemme tell ya...when you aren't prepared for a night on the town with Mr. Sticky Sheets, a wet dream can be a pretty damned frightening experience, kids.

My dad never took me aside to explain the birds and the bees, so this whole experience came outta left field on my ass. He came close to explaining them one time though. It was a Saturday night and Dad decided he wanted ice cream from Dairy Queen and I was coming with him to get it, leaving my sisters and Mom at home.

For some reason, I had a feeling this was going to be "the talk". I had no fucking clue what "the talk" was all about ... I just knew that every 13 year old was going to be cornered by his dad in a no-way-out situation and given the secrets of life. I didn't WANNA know the secrets of life. I wanted to eat ice cream and watch "Happy Days" and dream about being Sonny and Cher's kid.

The talk never came. We rode in total silence, got the ice cream and drove home in total silence.

For all I know, that may not have been when Dad had even PLANNED on giving me "the talk"...it just sticks out in my mind as the one opportunity he had to talk to me about sex, but didn't.

Oooops. I'm rambling. Sorry. It's 4:20 in Denmark.

Anyway...the wet dream. It was 1975 and we were living in Peoria, Illinois for three months, before we left to move to Europe for a few years. We had rented a large house for three months while Dad got briefed on a buncha knowledge to take over to Europe.

My bedroom was in the finished basement and I had my own bathroom. And in this bathroom closet was a box of Tampax that the previous owners had left behind.

Kids...ol' Unca Bob had NO CLUE what Tampax were for. I had heard about them, but was never curious enough to know just what the hell they were all about.

So I pull the instructions out of the box and get an instant hard-on. The drawings showed the inside of a woman from her left hip ... and by God...she had some mighty fine ovaries...I could tell by her fallopian tubes that she was probably pretty foxy.

And...this pencil drawing had a vagina.

Along with the ignorance of Tampax, I was also totally in the dark about masturbation. So even though I had a major stiffie with the Tampax instructions laid out in front of me, I had no clue what to do about it.

....Thank God my sub-conscious stepped in and took notes...

That night I had a dream. There was a tall dresser at the end of my bed in real life as well as in my dream. But in my dream, on top of the dresser was a naked girl. She was crouched down so she could fit on top of the dresser without hitting her head on the ceiling. She asked me if I was ready and I said "yes".

Then, this naked girl jumped off the dresser and miraculously landed so that I slipped up inside her in one fell swoop.

The feeling was ecstatic. It felt like a midget was tap dancing on my groin with electric shoes, buzzing every single nerve ending in my body. My body racked with joy as this girl just sat there on my groin, not moving. She didn't have to. In my dream, I was experiencing a feeling like I had never had in my 13-year-old life. There were no words to describe it ...unless you really wanna count that midget in electric tap shoes thing, which is about the shittiest metaphor in the history of the English language.

The dream was so intense that it woke me up within five seconds of landing.

And for some ungodly reason, my penis was vomiting. And even though it was the most disgusting thing I had ever seen, it felt like heaven. It felt like I was having a hard time peeing feathers and they just came in waves.

(Thank God I don't have a son. If I had to take him aside for "the talk" and told him an orgasm was like having difficulty peeing feathers, he'd be in therapy for years)

Apparently, Lil' Bob had been vomiting for a while because there was penis vomit everywhere. And I mean EVERYWHERE. My stomach and chest were drenched, my sheets were sticking to my groin, the penis was STILL VOMITING, leaving me peering through slitted eyes, praying the volcano would stop. Twenty five years later, I've STILL never matched that amount of cum.

Naturally ... I freaked. Me and the guys had talked about sex and stuff, but once again ... NOBODY TOLD ME ABOUT THE STICKY WHITE STUFF.

So there I was...covered from chin to groin in semen, which was now beginning to form little cum creeks down my belly, soaking the sheets some more. My sheets were so wet, you could have easily convinced me a cat had been slaughtered near my ass and I would have believed you.

I rolled out of bed as carefully as possible and managed to get semen on nearly everything I came into contact with. I was a walking sperm bank.

I stumbled to the bathroom, grabbed a towel and began mopping up my mess at 2:12 a.m. Naturally, I think I'm some kinda freak and will probably have to spend months in the hospital while doctors are flown in from around the globe to try and find out why I just shot white sticky fluid all over myself in the middle of the night.

I laid a towel over the wet spot on my sheets and tried to go back to sleep. It was the most uncomfortable night I had spent up until that point. My meatus was sticking to everything it came in contact with. Then you had to peel it off of whatever it was in contact with, like you're slowly separating velcro. That was about as fun as prison.

But I couldn't get that naked woman from my dream out of my mind.

The next morning, I was a little trooper and actually helped Mom with the laundry for the very first time in my life. I stripped my bed and had it stuffed in the washer before she could even get to the laundry room.

Just for her. Because I'm such a cool son.

And I remember her just grinning from ear to ear. At the time I thought it was because I was finally helping her around the house.

Heh.

She knew.

All moms know.

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