Perhaps I was better off than most kids. I discovered on my own, at least, that trying to climb the pole that held up the back porch resulted in a most delightful tingle in my "dickey" (Every adult I knew referred to a penis as a dickey.) and I enjoyed many wonderful dry orgasms climbing that sumabitch as often as I could. Nevertheless, I was missing out on a lot in dry humping a cold, impersonal piece of steel, without a clue even that one's dickey could be put to much better use, with another person, and without the benefit of knowing that later in life said dickey would cough up huge globs of a thick, white fluid that would make that little tingle feel infinitely better upon being squirted forth.
There were clues that I recall, indicating subtly that something delicious was in the works. I remember liking looking at adult women's boobies, particularly in sweaters. (Every adult I knew referred to a set of tits as boobies.) I remember having a story book about a boy's visit to the doctor and getting excited in a very nebulous way whenever I looked at the page where the main character was stripped down to his underpants and the doctor was palpating his belly. I recall liking the look of a set of adult legs in stockings - bonus points if the lady's shoes were off. It's strange - I don't remember being especially fascinated by ladies' asses, yet here I am with a definite preference for looking at, touching, kissing, and licking women's butts.
I'm making up for lost time - those fourteen years or so before I discovered that those occasional tingles down below weren't just incidentally pleasant sensations, but scrumptious sensual feelings to be savored, focused upon, strived for and celebrated, especially without any clothes on, and with others. Would I rather have had a friendly pastor stick his hand down my pants back then to teach me a thing or so? Probably not, but would it have been so bad if somebody had told me that ol' dickey was going to become a virtual amusement park in his own right?