When I was a child I enjoyed sticking my penis into the Thanksgiving turkey. It was not a political statement or an act of derision upon my family and friends – it was simply a biological necessity. At that point in my life the sexual tension had built up so much that I was desperate for relief. The hole that I would watch my father carve in the turkey in order to pull out the guts and put the potatoes and onions in called out to me like the singing birds that woke me up every morning. I was curious what it would feel like to stick my penis inside the turkey and like most young boys, curiosity lead to action.

The first time I stuffed the Thanksgiving turkey I could not of been a day over ten. My sex drive was already causing me to feel a chronic tingling pressure someplace in my groin. My father had left the turkey out on the counter to let cool while he invited all the guests to sit in the family room, by the fireplace and sip wine before dinner started. I found myself alone in the kitchen with the Thanksgiving turkey. I studied it for a moment and ran my hand down its cooked spine. Then, without a conscience or a sense of repercussion- I wasted no time and climbed up on the counter, pulled down my pants, got on top of the turkey and stuck my penis in.

The feeling that I received at the moment of penetration is probably akin to the same feeling a cat has when being pet or a grown man has when receiving an erotic naked massage. I remember it to this day as if it is a picture etched into my brain. I was overtaken by awe and felt what I now know was kundalini energy rising up my fragile spine. If it was not for the hot potatoes and onions that sat in the turkey’s chest I may have committed the terrible sin of orgasming inside. Much to my good fortune the heat was too much and I pulled out before it was too late.

I often ask myself why I was such a sexually deviant young boy? I do not come across many men that started masturbating as young as I. I am often puzzled and disturbed by my early sexual awakening since I have grown into a relatively sexually dull and disinterested adult. I grew up in a household that introduced me to the transgressive side of sex much younger than a child should be. My father often exposed a certain kind of perversion that I could not figure out. I remember swinging parties in the hot tub outback before I was old enough to know what the hell was going on and having my parents bed directly over my bedroom provided me with more information than I needed to know.

By the age of nine I was already dreaming of Russian prostitutes and strip clubs. I had such a good sense of smell that I was able to find my father’s pornography magazines buried deep in his drawers or hidden in a cowboy hatbox. I found a book of sexual positions in my mother’s drawer, which I used as a map in order to position myself onto the turkey. When I climbed on top of the turkey in order to stick it in I was only imitating a photograph that I saw in that book.

Even though I was too young at that time to practice everything I had learned with a member of the opposite sex- I still made passionate, brief love to those naked photographs as if they were real. For some reason the first time that I saw the large hole in the Turkey I knew that that was a place I needed to see, touch and feel. It was only a matter of time until I was looking forward to Thanksgiving because it was the one time during the year that I would be able to experience the pleasures of getting laid.

I am grateful that I do not have to live with the memory of orgasiming into the turkey that my family would then eat. My memories of gathering around the Thanksgiving table are filled with feelings of joy, warmth, relief and satisfaction instead of shame and guilt. I was aware then that orgasming into the turkey would not be a good thing to do because I would have to eat the turkey to. Besides, I had to stick my penis in and out quickly because I was terrified that someone would walk in and catch me with my pants down on top of the Thanksgiving turkey.

My turkey stuffing habit ended at the age of sixteen when I finally found the real thing. Even though I hated to lie and did not know how to answer the question, “you are a virgin right?” I still was able to avoid telling my first lover that the only sexual experiences I had had were with a dead bird. As I grew older and got more girls, sticking my penis in the turkey became for me not only a stupid and irresponsible substitution for the real thing but also a terrible disrespect to the family that I loved. Even today I still have no desire to penetrate a turkey on Thanksgiving Day but I have noticed a paranoia that I have developed. When I am at a Thanksgiving dinner and there are young boys present I will remain in the kitchen and guard that turkey with my life- until I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is on the table and ready to eat.