I probably began masturbating when I was four or five — or at least, that’s when I first remember becoming aware that it felt good when I touched myself ‘down there…’ Back then I somehow already knew it was ‘taboo’ and a nice thing to do, but always done furtively. Touching myself sort of grew on me in a natural, unthoughtful way. By the age of nine, I was waking up in the morning with my hands between my legs and my fingertips slick with wetness from my still hairless mound. Gradually, I ventured further and further into the dense moistness and discovered the thrill of my long, inner lips, their curved ridges, the velvet of my vulva, the intense and uncontrollable responses of my clitoris… I began to enjoy my nightly incursions into the minute parts of my private self and the different sensations that each part of my cunt produced. I had my first orgasm at the age of eleven and… Oh my God! I thought I would die! It came on like a roaring wave that ripped through my body with terrifying electric currents. It engulfed me. Quite literally. It floored me. The orgasm happened with the shower head in the bath and I remember just falling down on my knees and clutching the edge of the bathtub in utter helplessness. After that, there was no stopping me… and there still hasn’t been. I’ve been horny ever since. In fact, I’d say my life has been one long love affair with my beautiful, demanding, purple cunt.
Over the decades, my vagina and my vulva have seen and lived so much. My cunt has throbbed with pleasure, bled with pain and loss, become the passageway of new life and been filled over and again with the penises of my lovers, their fingers, their tongues and the many objects of desire that have come its way — dildos, vibrators, bottles, candles, courgettes, carrots, bananas, pens, pencils, ice cubes… It has come to life and burst into orange orgasms in so many places — in bed, on sofas, in the cinema, in cars, in trains, on buses, at work , in my sleep… It has been covered up and kept out of sight, it has been open and exposed, it has been photographed and framed, it has felt the sunlight, it has stirred in the breeze and it has been stung by the salt of the sea.
I’m fifty now and masturbation has long become a physical, emotional and even spiritual mainstay of my life. One way of doing it that I like best is a very simple way. I strip off and lie down nude in bed. My hair falls on the pillow and the bed feels good. I lie on my back and cover myself with just a cotton sheet. Its touch on my nipples sets me off. The feel of the sheet on my belly and breasts is light and erotic. The sheet moves over me when I move and it turns me on. I play with my nipples, which are another very sensitive part of me. I feel the shape and weight of my breasts in my hand and slowly move my hand downwards. The sheet ripples and slides over me. I stroke my pussy hair and tease myself. My fingers part my lips and rub the hood of my clit. It pretends not to care at first. My fingers persist. They dart around my bud and then subside into a slow circular motion. They play games. They alternate the fast with the very slow, the hard with the light, the round, circular massage of the hood of my clit with rapid pats on the now exposed and tingling head of my clit. It responds and hardens like a pea under my touch. My fingers move further in, sliding over the vulva, feeling the ridges that have emerged over time and the irregular periphery of my vaginal entrance. My fingertips run over some of my hymen that remains at the edge of my cunt and has defied lovers, childbirth, menstruation and time. But my vagina is begging to be filled now. I enter the pleasure zone… My legs lie parted and then, as I thrust two or even three fingers in and out of my cunt, I bring the soles of my feet together and press them hard against one another. My cunt is wide open now and the juices are flowing. The thrusting takes a new turn as I press hard upwards when I enter myself, pressuring my G-spot. It makes me want to pee and then I begin to feel the G-spot swell. It begins to bulge. I press harder against it and then let go. A sweet, watery fluid drips down over my perineum and the side of my open thighs. I twirl my fingers inside myself and feel the varied text