J., and we three went on a walk up the railroad track.  The big boy, W., tried to inflame my passions by telling me how he and J. had had coitus with a handsome black-haired widow in town, but I remained cold.

During this year I fell in love with C., a popular, talkative, witty boy of my own age, or perhaps a year younger.  He fancied me and we slept together one night under the most innocent circumstances.  I never dreamed of having sexual relations with him, and yet I fairly burned with love for him.  My stay at his beautiful home over Sunday while his parents were away was one long delight.  We slept in each other’s arms, but there was no sexuality.  En route to C.’s home he pointed with a glove to a little working-girl, saying he would like to have intercourse with her, but this was the only remark of the kind that ever passed his lips in my presence.  When undressed save for his undershirt, he laughingly held his unerect organ in his hand and made the motions of obtaining conjunction with an imaginary partner.  Once we spoke of masturbation (I could recite the information of my good physician with a marvelous show of virtue), and C. remarked:  “Yes, doing that makes boys crazy.”  C. finally grew tired of my deceptive, babyish nature and ultra-interest in books and puzzles, but I cherished an undiminished affection for him, and when he was detained at home for a fortnight with a broken arm, I wrote him a passionate letter, which I sobbed over and actually wetted with my tears.  But the fervor of my passion died at the close of the year.  I consider this unsullied friendship to be the only redeeming feature of my sensual days at school.

Versed as I was in the warnings against masturbation, I found pleasure one afternoon when I was alone in slipping my penis through the open handle of a pair of scissors and in violently flapping my partially erect organ until a strange, sweet thrill crept over me from top to toe and a drop of clear liquid oozed from my member.  But I gave up the manipulation with scissors, finding a greater satisfaction in masturbating while I was defecating or just after it.  I either pumped my organ by slipping the prepuce back and forth, or I grasped the organ at its root and violently jerked it back and forth.  I soon began to masturbate not only every time that I defecated, but also at night just before I went to sleep, and sometimes early in the morning.  On the whole I preferred the jerking just described.  I always brought about ejaculation after perhaps five minutes of violent exertion.

My penis became chafed at the root, but I did not especially care.  I remember the afternoon that I masturbated for the first time while I was defecating in the school water-closet.  I cannot recall that at first I thought of coitus while I masturbated.  On one occasion I masturbated over the vase de nuit after a delightful afternoon of tobogganing exploration up and down the