I
read somewhere that we learn instinctively to pleasure ourselves before
we can talk and my earliest memory of the art of masturbation was at
the tender age of four years old. I won’t go into detail but I was
aroused by the sight of two lions copulating to the voice of David
Attenborough on a BBC Wildlife documentary which stirred something
mysterious inside me. Clearly at such a young age I had no idea that
what I was seeing, or that my consequent response, was sexual. Still
it was an enjoyable sensation, and subsequently I made sure I had
regular practice.
Consequently I was multi-orgasmic (I believe
that is the phrase) many years before my first sexual experience with a
man. I adopted the no-hands approach, simply using a combination of
flexing and contracting vaginal muscles while mentally re-playing an
image I found erotic (usually inspired by salacious scenes in TV
thrillers or articles I had read in the News of the World). Books
played a key role in this development - and I confess that Mills and Boon stories were a major source of inspiration. Another enduring
fantasy was to faint before the object of my desire, (in my teens this
was David Soul or Christopher Lee as Dracula) who would then sweep me
into his arms and carry me away to...? Marriage, of course. Sex
didn’t come into it. I don’t know how common this kind of fantasy was,
or is. Masturbation was such a taboo, and felt unaccountably wicked,
that I never dared tell anyone it took place, let alone discuss it with
female friends. I suspected I must be abnormal and vowed to keep my
dreadful secret for eternity, since I had been unable to give it up.
(Of course, when I discovered Nancy Friday’s Secret Garden I felt much better about myself!).
Behind closed doors, I became quite addicted to the pleasure I
experienced, like a sugar flood. (I always did have a sweet tooth).
Consequently, I would put time aside for it, as one would any enjoyable
hobby. Even now, I will sometimes prepare the room, with soft lighting,
throbbing music (Robert Palmer is good), and erotic literature to
luxuriate in the sensations. Unlike films, the written word leaves
more to the imagination and for me the Story of O, the Gor books, and 9 1/2 Weeks were great turn-ons. Not politically correct, I’m afraid, but then erotic fantasy rarely is.
Or, on other occasions, masturbation will be a quickie, a functional
act, simply a means to an end, like scratching an itch. (Like sex with
some men, I discovered later.) When I embarked on my
first sexual relationship and discovered the art of making love with
another person, I stopped masturbating (although the muscle clenching
technique has continued to prove very useful). I must have been well
into my twenties, after being exposed to a couple of Emmanuelle
films, before I realized that some women actually use their fingers to
pleasure themselves. I decided to try this technique, but even in
private I felt self-conscious. It didn’t work for me. It wasn’t until
years later at a party, when a man brought me off using his fingers
that I realized the potential. And I must have been thirty before I
progressed to a vibrator, which initially scared the shit out of me
(how could anyone get something that big inside their body?!).
Eventually, after I got to know it better and familiarized myself with
its operation, I couldn’t be without my toy. I even took a friend to
the Ann Summers shop to help choose hers. After joking about some of
the more outrageous products, she wisely opted for the fluorescent pink
model. I also tried one of those Joni’s Butterfly devices but
couldn’t figure out where all the little straps went. It seemed so
fiddly I got impatient and just used my fingers.
Essentially,
female masturbation is a creative act - and like any creative act
requires a combination of imagination, practice and hard work for a
successful outcome.
Personally I feel it is
important in our manic society to have quality private time that is not
dependent on another person for enjoyment. What better way than to
devote all your energy and imagination to your own pleasure. A form of
stress relief and relaxation that you don’t have to pay for. No ties,
no consequences, no hassle. Mmmmmmm……..