The First Time I Saw a Guy Toss Off.

I was in 7th grade.

I wasn't new to sex. My dad had bought me a whole slew of books to prepare me and save himself the embarrassment of explaining the gritty details when I was in 3rd grade. But my knowledge was limited to books and what my friends told me; not exactly what you'd call a solid understanding of the matter.

My best friend at the time and I were walking in her neighborhood in a fairly nice part of San Diego, where majority of residents either had young children or were retired. It was already past sunset, and the street lights provided almost no visibility.

"Uhhhh, uh."
It sounded  like Br'er Bear from "Song of the South" was up ahead of us in the bushes,  struggling to answer a basic question.

"Muh-uhhh, oh..." Thock-thock-thock.
You'd think the sounds would have encouraged us to cross over to the other side of the street. Nope. Obviously we had to go see what was making that sound. We walked closer.

"Oh yes, come here, come on". At least the sounds were intelligible now, even if they were creepy whispers.
We peeked around the bushes and saw a figure lying on the grass, twitching.

I stepped forward, closer. My bad.

The moon happened to come out from the clouds, like some disturbing pre-meditated plot-twist a director throws in to emphasize the horrifying moment, and it shined down on the now very visible man tugging on his very visible prick.

He looked up at us and gasped between twitches, "You*ohhurrrrrr*like*uhhhhhmmmmmhhh*thatdon't*mrrrrrrhhhhuhhh*you*ohhhhmmmvvvvv..."

We ran.

Years later, I found out that's a completely normal fetish.