Written by: Lisa Gallegher
That night I lay awake stimulated by the conversation of the evening and my date’s lingering kiss on my lips. Unfortunately, he had to work the graveyard shift and we had to call it an early evening. His final kiss had started the embers of love kindling in my 19-year old soul.
My hand gently rubbed through my pubic hair and stroked my clitoris as I tried to drift off to sleep. I stopped thinking, turned, tossed, touched myself again. Nothing was working. I still lay awake. I began thinking about the people outside my apartment. Should I try and join their party? Should I go for a midnight swim? I was so tired why couldn’t I sleep? It was 1:00 AM. I was now laying here for an hour. My nerves were on edge. I was beginning to sweat into my pillow, hair damp with perspiration, legs twitching as my calf muscles spasmed.
I constantly rolled in the bed, never getting comfortable, lying on one side, then switching sides. I turned to my stomach, that position for some reason hurt my breasts. I turned to lie on my back and instinctively, as if I was a marionette and my motions were controlled by gossamer threads, my hand began to search out my clitoris. Sweat now covered my whole body. I threw off the covers. It was so hot in this room. My finger entered my vagina, I took a deep breath, my body trembling, shaking at my two-inch digital insertion. Minor relief came at once. My body was now chilled, as I lie naked on the bed, uncovered.
I turned to reach for the cover that I had earlier deposited on the floor. A gasp escaped my lips and pleasure shot through my thighs and pelvis. I looked down at my hand, its middle finger hidden inside my abdomen, buried into soft moisture. The turn had made my vaginal walls wrap snugly around it while pushing my love button into the hard bone of my middle finger. I turned back over and moaned softly, staring at the ceiling above, waiting for the earth to move again. What was happening to me? Was I ill?
Masturbation was never an event that took place in my life. Usually, I was tired from studying or sports and was sleeping within a few minutes after my head hit the pillow. The nights that were sleepless, which I could count on one hand, were because of worrying about exams or the rare sinus infection. During the last six months, I began rubbing myself more in the pubic hair region as I fell to sleep. I just thought my secretions were increasing and I was getting a little of the wetness in my hair, causing a slight itch. I increased the frequency of my showers to twice a day but found the spray of the shower into my genital area, caused tingling sensations and I was really irritable the remainder of the day.
As an 18-year old living at home, when I questioned my mother about these strange occurrences, she dismissed them as all in my imagination and I should use more soap in “that private area.” Things having to do with reproduction were not discussed in our home. My mother never used words such as “breasts, nipple, vagina, or penis.” The vulgar forms were definitely out of bounds. My learning of reproduction came about in early high school at a group assembl