Masturbaticon I

This post has become quite a bit longer than I anticipated, so I’m going to stop now and perhaps write a bit more later on.

For some time now I have been trying to remember the first time I began exploring my body sexually.  I recall, as I’m sure most women do, feeling that tingling sensation for the first time and wondering what the hell was happening to my body.  And seeing the translucent smears inside my panties when I went to the bathroom.  I just wish I could remember how old I was.  It couldn’t have been later than 11 or 12.

The first distinct memory I have is of lying across the couch in our living room, half-watching a movie on TV.  Some standard, PG-13 half-shadowy sex scene came on and I felt my body responding with the now-familiar itch.  I was lying on my side, head resting on the arm of the couch, and one leg lay across the other, putting pressure against my groin and the insides of my thighs.  I experimentally squeezed my legs together and was probably surprised at how good it felt.  I kept an eye on the movie, half-asleep and enjoying the feeling I was getting from pressing my legs together.

After that, I kept experimenting and finally, perhaps a few months or so later, discovered that it felt the best when I crossed my legs and squeezed hard.  It helped that I had unlimited privacy between when I was dropped off from school bus around 3:30 till when my parents came home from work at 6 or 7.  This is also how I first learned to orgasm – with my legs crossed and squeezing together.  Hard.  I could also adjust my legs to place the pressure across different areas, letting it build up slowly.  And feeling the fabric of my shorts between my legs helped take me over the edge.

Both those were mini-orgasms in comparison to what I next discovered – the removable showerhead.  Oooooh, yes.  Showers became my favorite activity of the day during this stage.  By this point I was starting to explore the tidbits of information the internet offered.  I started on computers young, what with my mother being a computer programmer, and knew my way around various forums, chat sites, and search engines.  And that was all I needed to find sites explaining all the different ways a woman could get herself off (this was back in, oh, 1998 or so).

And so after reading about all these new ways I could achieve that wonderful feeling between my legs, I tried it out with the showerhead.  It was the perfect escape.  Under the premise of taking a shower, I could switch the showerhead to ‘Massage,’ let the pulsating water get me off, and be squeaky clean when I got out, with my family being none the wiser.  As the years passed, I’ve done that less and less, and showering again became just another daily task to complete.  It didn’t help, of course, that dorm showers do not have removable showerheads.  But perhaps it’s time to renew that particular activity from my adolescence.

Throughout all this, I had not yet struck up the nerve to actually insert anything inside me.  I probably went through more than a year of coming just by squeezing my thighs together and using the showerhead before actually touching myself “down there.”  I also never used a tampon until I was in college.  So it took awhile for me to strike into this unknown territory.  Again I turned to my surefire insta-information source: the internet.  I learned different techniques for finding and tackling the mysterious clitoris.  I learned about the even more elusive G-spot, about finger penetration, even about sex toys, which I found to be a completely alien concept.  I firmly believed that I would never own a sex toy.

I read and read, and found it all very technical and anatomical.  But it stoked my curiosity, if not my libido.  I wanted to apply what I read, so I did more exploring in the safest place I knew – the shower.  I wonder now if it ever seemed strange to my family that I was taking longer and longer showers.  Anyway, I started by rubbing in the general vicinity of my clit, and it immediately turned me off.  Too sensitive!  This didn’t feel good at all.  Had I read wrong?  I didn’t understand how this was supposed to be pleasant, not realizing the necessity of having lubrication.

Similarly, I was horrified the first time I tried to stick a finger inside my pussy.  It hurt like hell, and my finger had blood on it.  And yet, stubborn child that I have always been, I wouldn’t give up.  I eased a finger in there every couple of showers (“showers” having become the counting unit for my ‘sexual adventures’), and soon learned about vaginal fluid and why I always ended up with sticky panties after I came.

Before I knew it, I was obsessed with penetration.  I honestly don’t know how I made it through high school, because it felt like I spent the majority of the time at home looking for phallic looking objects to put in my pussy.  Lipstick cases, hairbrushes, screwdriver handles, bananas … I could not be satiated.  It was also around this time that I started thinking something was wrong with me and began nurturing a long-lasting guilt over my masturbation habits.  Even though I reasoned that something that felt so good couldn’t be that bad, every orgasm added to the weight in the back of my mind.