My journey to sexual awareness started late in life. I was raised in a strict Christian home, and sex was something that no one ever mentioned positively. Our church preached abstinence and purity. There was never a doubt I would remain a virgin until marriage. Finding a man to marry who was a virgin was not as important to me. Men having sex was different than women to me. It didn’t seem likely they would wait for marriage. Self-pleasure was a definite no-no. Fortunately, I didn’t have a strong desire to have sex—either with a man or by myself.
I had to close my ears a great deal in high school to avoid hearing my friends describe dates where their boyfriends got to first or second base. Eventually, I found out what it meant and wondered why they let a boy do that. For the most part, I skipped parties and was never asked to a school dance. Once when my parents were out of town, the aunt who stayed with me convinced me to attend a “pajama party” sleepover at another church member’s home.
I was surprised that the girls mainly wanted to talk about boys. We were in our early teens, and no way would my parents let me date yet. I was tall and skinny and had not developed at all. The girls that had breasts already seemed quite proud of them, which confused me. These were the girls the boys liked. Some of the girls practiced kissing for the time a boy would want to kiss them. That night of seeing and hearing the girls was the extent of my sex education.
In college, I was finally becoming a woman. I put on some weight in the places that attracted boys. Finally, one from a good and very religious home asked me out. I enjoyed the first time he held my hand. Only a few months had gone by when he asked to marry me. After my yes, we shared our first kiss.
Our minister had us come in for counseling sessions before the wedding. A couple of weeks before the big day, sex was the topic. Mainly I discovered he was also a virgin. Since we had never done more than kiss, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Although truthfully I didn’t care and certainly would not have called off the wedding if he wasn’t. In a way, it was scary that neither of us knew about sex.
My mom basically told me, “Your husband will want to put his thing in you. Just lay there and let him do what he needs to do.” She said, “If you’re lucky, you will get pregnant early, and he will leave you alone until after the baby stops breastfeeding.”
On our wedding night, I got naked in a dark hotel room and crawled under the covers. He climbed in, rolled on top of me, and put his “thing” in. It hurt, and I understood why my mom described sex in negative terms. I don’t recall if it was three or four strokes before I felt him ejaculate inside me. I wondered if he had made me pregnant.
We had sex on Saturday mornings if I wasn’t bleeding. Sometimes there was a conflict, and we missed a week. Soon he started to last longer, and the pain had mostly gone. Finally, the day came that he stayed hard long enough for me to build toward a climax. I felt my hips meet his thrusts as I grabbed his butt and pulled him toward me. He ejaculated and climbed off. I tried to hold him for one more push to no avail. But at least I had experienced sexual pleasure.
I felt strange the next day and ended up seeing a doctor. I was pregnant, and we were thrilled. But my mom’s prediction came true; he did not touch me sexually until after the baby. I was embarrassed at how large my breasts became and the sensations I felt from my nipples. My husband had always ignored them. Now I was experiencing some pleasant feelings.
Suddenly, one Thursday night as our baby slept, he came into our bed and removed my clothes. He touched my breasts, kissed my nipples, even suckling milk from them. His fingers went between my legs. I was shocked! But it felt good, so I just lay there and enjoyed it. I saw his erection for the first time, and he guided my hand to it. He kissed his way down my body and used his mouth and tongue on me. The sensations were amazing. But he stopped after a few seconds and moved up and entered me.
I was finally enthused about having sex. My husband stroked hard and deep, playing with my breasts. Milk was everywhere. He had never been as forceful or as deep. Again my hands grabbed him and tried to pull his entire body inside me. My hips met every thrust. My breathing was shallow and rapid, my nipples needing his touch. He ejaculated, rolled off, and went to sleep.
If that is what sex was for a woman, it wasn’t bad. I enjoyed him touching and sucking my nipples and feeling his seed inside me. With the baby, sex was not as regular anymore, and not always as enjoyable as that time.
Weeks passed. My body settled down to more normal size. One afternoon, my husband took the baby in his stroller for a walk, and I went to wash my hair in the shower. While bathing, my fingers grazed over my slippery breasts. It felt pleasant and relaxing. Without any sexual thoughts, my soapy fingers ran across my nipples. They sprang to attention, and I recognized the sensation. So I did it again. I even squeezed my nipple as my husband had and gave it a tug. I felt a shock-like feeling travel from my nipple to between my legs. Was this the self-pleasuring I was told was so wrong? I did it again and then to both nipples.
I continued with my left hand, and without considering my actions, somehow found my right hand between my legs. My fingers ran the length of the lips down there. Every squeeze and tug of my nipple seemed to meet the sensations my fingers were creating on my lips. All I could think about was how good it felt.
My nipple started to feel like a distraction from concentrating on the sensations between my legs, so I let it be for a time. I found some areas felt better and worked more on them as my hips wanted to move, pushing against my fingers. My breathing became rapid and shallow; my body began to quake. I reached up and gave my nipple a final hard pinch. My fingers pressed against my lips, entering me. Then I spasmed and fell back against the wall of the shower. I barely avoided a fall.
It was my first orgasm, my first time masturbating. I wish I could say it changed my sex life. But it is an event that stays in my memory.
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