I don't remember when I didn't fondle my penis.
I still do, every chance I get.
My first memory is of sitting in my highchair at the dining-room table with no pants on, fondling my penis.
Apparently, I had wet all my pants and they were in the washer.
My father was yelling at me to "Stop that."
I had no idea what he was talking about, so I kept right on fondling myself.
He then said that if I didn't stop, he would throw his water at me.
I didn't stop, since I didn't know what he was talking about, so he threw his water at me.