I may say in all seriousness that this is a
conservative and unexaggerated account of one phase of my early
life--the one, I think, that tended most strongly to make me
introspective and morbid. Later on, when I was trying to abandon
the habit of masturbation, this early training greatly increased
the despair I felt at each successive failure.
The first traces of sexual excitement that I can now recall
occurred when I was about 4 years old. I had erections quite
frequently and found a mild pleasure in fondling my genitals when
these occurred, especially just after waking in the morning. I
had no notion of an orgasm, and never succeeded in producing one
until I was 13 years of age. In the summer of my sixth year I
experienced pleasurable sensations in daubing my genitals with
oil and then fondling or rubbing them, but I abandoned this
amusement after getting some irritating substance into the
meatus. A year later my mother warned me that playing with my
penis would "make me very sick," but since experience had taught
me that this was not true, my conviction that what was forbidden
must necessarily be pleasant, sent me directly to my favorite
retreat in the barn loft to experiment.
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