I grabbed my dad's junk when I was 4-6 (it was a long time ago, I don't remember my exact age). I wanted to know what it was, since I didn't have one and neither did my mom. This was after we went to the lake, he was changing out of his speedos (yes, he wore flipping speedos) and I thought it looked ~weird~, and I wanted to know what it was. I was a really... handsy kid. Every time I remember this I can feel the vomit building up in my stomach. I've never told anyone this, and I never will. And I feel like everyone involved has elected to forget this... incident.