Growing up in a private school, I never had the opportunities that other kids have. I never had the temptation for things that were naughty because none of that was going on around me. And if it was, it was hidden very well. People never seem to believe me when I tell them I was a very sheltered child. If they do believe me, they don’t know to what extent.
I had maybe three boyfriends in high school, nothing serious, nothing more intimate than holding hands under a blanket so my parents couldn’t see. Oh, I think I made out with one boyfriend in high school, but nothing more than that. When I went to college I had my first real experience. I was so naïve. The only thing I knew about boys were that they were different down there, and you were not supposed to kick them in the crotch, apparently it hurts. I never took sex-ed. I never took health class. The only thing knew about myself was that I had to wipe from front to back and use sanitary napkins once a month (motherly wisdom passed down without contaminating my innocence).
My new boyfriend, Gary, however, was a public school grad. He’d been there. He may not have tried it all, but he sure has seen it! (according to my limited vantage point, that is.) When I found out he watched porn, I just about had a heart attack! Actually, I cried for 2 days trying to figure it out. Why would you enjoy watching other naked people? And why in the WORLD would you want to PLAY with yourself? COMPLETE foreign concepts to me! Until he found my hidden curious side. It only took dating him a few weeks for us to be dry humping on the floor in his parents basement. Of course, we were both virgins, so that is as far as we went. And after about 30 seconds of that he would quit and go clean out his boxers. I still didn’t understand how it all worked, but hey, it made him happy and I admit, it did feel good to me as well.
When you are at college, you make more friends than just one. Even for introverts like me. I made friends with this crazy talkative boy, Charlie. It almost drove me crazy how much he talked. There was nothing that was off limits when talking with him. And right from the start he told me that he liked me. I enjoyed our time together, so I laid it out for him: I have a boyfriend. Right now I have no desire to change that status. And if you want to pursue me despite that fact, than that is your problem, but you’ll be waiting for nothing.- Needless to say, he didn’t give up. Every night after Gary’s parents made me say good night and go back to campus at 11, I’d go take a walk with my new best friend, Charlie. I would usually debrief and tell him every little detail of what Gary convinced me to do now, of how oblivious he can be, and how annoying his parents are. Charlie always laughed at me, he knew how naïve I was. He knew that I had not a clue about all the stuff I was telling him. And every night he would help me understand these new things I was learning. What masochistic SOB would help the girl he loved by helping her stay with someone else? I will never know. And yet, every night he told me he loved me, and he would wait for me. Without hesitation I would dismiss his comment and tell him he was being foolish, but I appreciate that he makes me feel loved.
After a few months of this triangle relationship, Charlie had me realizing things about myself that I never knew. He convinced me to shave. He wanted to see what Gary said about it. If he liked it or not. (this being a completely foreign concept to me too- why would anyone shave down there, that’s weird, but hey, I’ll try it if you think he’ll like it.) Then, he told me that a lot of girls masturbate too, not just guys. Immediately I got weirded out. WHY? I just don’t get it. He tries to convince me that I should learn what I like and what I don’t, it will give me a better understanding of how things work down there, and it just plain feels good. He explains, - you know how it feels when you are dry humping? It feels like that, only better because your clothes aren’t in the way- OK, makes sense, I suppose. I still find it weird, though. I mean, intimacy is supposed to be between a man and a women, how is this supposed to feel good when I’m doing it to myself. It’s like tickling yourself, it just doesn’t feel the same when you’re doing it to yourself… but I’ll give it a try.
This whole mess is going through my mind when I go home for Christmas break. Charlie says to just start rubbing yourself while you’re in the shower one time, just feel things out and see if it feels good. OK, I can try. So the next time I take a shower, I do just that.
After washing my hair and shaving my legs, I think about what Charlie had said. I lather up some soap and start washing my body. “how am I supposed to do this? This is so weird to me. How can he expect me to just feel myself up like that?” I take a wash cloth and scrub my arms and my shoulders. The hot water is rolling down my back as my brain is trying to understand these strange thoughts. “I am nowhere near aroused, but I told him I’d try it, so…” I set down my soap. I just stand there with the steamy water cascading down my naked body for a few seconds, contemplating how to proceed. *Sigh* - with the water falling on my chest and down my stomach, I lift my left leg and rest my foot on the ledge of the tub. I grip the handle on the wall for balance. I am thinking to myself, “this is probably the best position, this is how I shave anyway.” But instead of going for the razor, my fingers just directly contact my skin.
I just shaved, so the tips of my fingers slide over my baby smooth outer lips. I use my thumb and middle finger to gently pull the skin open and gain me access to what’s inside. I realize that the hot water is now running freely between my legs and into my very pink pussy. I allow my fingers to explore myself, noticing all the parts of me that Charlie had explained but I had not allowed myself to fully understand until this point. I distinguish the labia majora, labia minora, the clitoral hood, the vaginal opening. Still just observing and exploring, I wonder what it feels like inside? I gently slide my index finger just inside my vagina. I notice that I’m wet. but not wet with water. It feels different, almost slick. This makes it easy for my finger to go in a bit farther. I feel different textures and surfaces. In the back of my mind, I wonder what all the different parts are for, but that is not important right now. What is important is that this really is starting to feel good.
I remember Charlie said something about a spot that always feels good, if you can find it. I don’t know about that, but the tip of my finger keeps sending shivers up my spine. If only I could reach in a bit farther, maybe I can make it feel even better? I tip my hips forward, bending my right knee a bit more. My index finger is just not long enough. Hmmm, I wonder. I steadily bend my middle finger and slide it in beside my first one. The pressure on my fingers is distracting me, I can feel the skin of my vagina stretching to accommodate the width of the new addition. I think to myself, I hope a guy’s penis is not much bigger than this, I might have a hard time with that. After a few seconds the discomfort fades and leaves me with the sensation of more nerve endings being touched at once. I tip my hips forward even further and slide my wrist further back allowing my longer middle finger to explore further inside my now fully aroused pussy.
The weight on my one leg, being bent as it is, finally taking its toll. I relax my back and straighten my leg to let it rest. In doing so, my fingers quickly pulled out from their haven. And oh, my GOD! I cannot explain why that felt so good, but I have to try that again. I slowly, yet intentionally push my hand as deep as my two fingers will allow. I pause for a second, taking in all the new and wonderful sensations this motion activates. I then take a deep breath, and… swiftly drag my fingers out in one smooth motion, intentionally putting pressure on my vaginal wall as they pass. My right knee buckles. It’s a good thing I’m still holding on to that hand rail. I was so focused on what my right hand was doing, I completely forgot about my white knuckled left hand helping support my balance. I realize that if I am going to forget that I’m standing, next time I should probably be laying down.
I was so absorbed in what I was doing, that I forgot I was still taking a shower all together. I stood there in the stream of water for a few seconds, trying to compose myself. I don’t know if I’m doing it right, and I still don’t get the purpose, but it sure does feel good. I reach back between my legs, just to remind my mind’s eye what it feels like, and I realize that slimy wetness is all over down there. I have been in the shower for a while now, I should probably wash this off and get out of here before someone starts wondering what I’m up to. I turn around and pull the shower head down from its perch on the wall. I rinse off my hands and my sweaty inner thighs. Then using my left hand I hold open my…
What did I just do? Let me do that again! I was only trying to wash between my legs. This hot water feels really good there. I hold the shower head directly on my wide open pussy. Now, I have to sit down. The neck of the shower allows it to reach all the way to the floor of the tub. So, I lay down on the plastic shower mat and bend my knees so that I can spread myself open and get direct spray from the nozzle. Once again, I use my left hand to hold open my outer lips. I turn the head of the shower so that it is on a harder setting and point the concentrated water spray a my left thigh.
All the nerves in my private area are rising to the surface. I slowly inch the jet stream closer to where my left hand is. Every centimeter closer makes the nerves tingle exponentially more. Stray droplets of water land in the pink tissue that is being exposed. My hips rise off the floor of the tub. A shiver runs up my spine as the main force of the stream flows onto the outer flesh that is being held back by the middle finger of my left hand. The water bounces off splashes back into the vaginal opening. I remember what Charlie said about the Clit being very sensitive and usually a very good spot to play with. I allow the edge of the pressurized water to hit that very sensitive spot, already swollen and pulsing with desire. I quickly have to pull it away. After a second of reminding myself to breathe, I try it again. This time I leave the water stream there for a few seconds more. The feeling is so intense that once again, I have to remove it and recoup. Once more I allow the water to pound directly onto my engorged clitoris. I move the stream back and forth quickly making my nerves shoot spastic signals up my spine into my brain. My hips are raised as far as they can go. My spine is digging into the plastic shower mat, the water is running forward over my stomach and pooling at my throat. My thighs and butt muscles are clenched as tight as they can be. Thinking of absolutely nothing else, with the driving, repetitive motion of the shower head, my legs start to shake. My stomach tightens from the inside out. My pussy begins to flutter, squeezing and relaxing, clenching and releasing. The muscles in my back side start to ache. I can no longer keep the water on my clit. I have to drop the shower head. I can’t keep my left hand in contact with the skin near my pussy. Everything that touches my skin, everything that is in contact with any part of my body, seems to come alive. Where before I noticed nothing, now I notice everything. It’s like the whole world just shifted into Technicolor! As I’m trying to collect my thoughts and regain control of my body, I am trying to figure out exactly what happened. Was this normal? Did I do it right?
When I can finally stand on my noodley legs again, I replace the shower head into its holder on the wall. I can barely allow my fingers to graze over the swollen flesh between my legs in order to wash it off. A few times I have to catch myself as my knees give way. I finished my shower and got dressed hoping no one else in the house realized that I took an extra long shower. And as I hang up my towel, my thoughts drift back to Charlie. I will have to recount this experience to him. I will have to share with him in detail how it made me feel, and what I liked about it. I know he will explain some of it to me and help me to better understand the sensations I was having.
I will tell Charlie, but I will not tell Gary. How could I? Gary is my boyfriend, and what I did tonight will help me to be better at pleasing him. I wonder what Charlie will think after I tell him?
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