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Butterfly Magic

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Butterfly Magic
I've been masturbating at least since I was in my early teens. I'm told I probably did it as a child too, but I don't remember that. I do remember those first awkward exploratory sessions when I was 12 or 13, working against a rolled up sheet, a pillow, or some clothes, rubbing and later on humping, wondering what that amazing feeling was, whether anyone else ever had it - but somehow knowing it was something I couldn't talk about to my parents, and realizing that I'd better not get caught or the shame would be overwhelming. In fact, I think the sense of shame and embarrassment was part of the excitement for me.
At first I did it only about once every month (I don't remember how it related to my period, if it did), then about twice monthly, then once a week. I tried very hard not to do it at all, but there would always come a time when I just couldn't stand the tension. Masturbation then wasn't a choice, it was a necessity. The orgasms were quickly achieved and after the first year or so they were very intense. Even then I enjoyed watching myself as I did it.
By junior year in high school I was doing it "all the time" which meant at least 4-5 times a week. I'd discovered that I could get myself off by thigh pressure, even in study hall or in the library. A certain way of crossing my legs, swinging the top leg back and forth while leaning forward and rocking slightly - that would do it. It took a long time, and by then I was beginning to enjoy prolonging the excitement. When I finally came, I would lean forward a little more, sometimes cough to cover the spasms which occurred. I thought that nobody could tell what was happening but after I'd done this for several months (maybe many months) one of the study hall monitors took me aside between classes and told me that I should get to the bathroom at "those times when you're unusually tense". I was so ashamed and embarrassed wanted to melt down through the floor. I couldn't look that monitor in the eye for months after that, and I don't think I ever did it in study hall again. Now I realize that when I got sexually excited I would get an intense flushing of my face (and also of my chest, but nobody could see that). If people knew what that flush meant they had to know what I was doing.
I think after I was confronted after class, I probably quit "jilling off" for about a week - but then resumed at home in my room, using the thigh-pressure method while studying. The big advantage to doing it in the privacy of my room was that when I came I could press my hands to my breasts, which seems to intensify the orgasm, or at least make it more comforting. Later on in life I've learned that nipple stimulation, as such, intensifies things - some stroking, some pulling, even some rather hard pinching and pulling sometimes when I'm close to orgasm.
On dates in high school and college it was great fun to help a guy masturbate, or to get him off with my hands or my breasts, sometimes even with my mouth. I loved watching men masturbate themselves, and I still do. It was even more fun to get them excited by getting naked and doing myself for them, usually using my fingers. I enjoyed doing myself while my date drove us home or to a parking place, telling him what I was going to do, how it felt, when I was about to come, and so forth. I would get naked in the car lots of times, and do it that way. I could come in front of them once or twice and still have plenty of sexual energy left for whatever else my date had in mind. Several of the guys were amazingly grateful that I would do things like that. Of course some of the guys got mad at me. They thought they should be the only ones to get me off. I guess seeing me do it made them feel a bit less valuable, and maybe they were right about that.
In college and nursing school it got so I was doing it alone almost every day for a while, sometimes two or three times a day, always trying to keep it "secret" from the girls I was rooming with. For me masturbation was a wonderful tension reliever and the best possible sleeping medicine. I never knew if any of the other girls did it too.
As I got into my mid twenties I went through a time when I was living with a man who didn't like me to masturbate, and I actually stopped for quite a long time, at least 3 or 4 years. We had partner-sex frequently, and that was enough, though I always wished we could each watch each other "solo".
Women don't get much chance to talk about masturbation with other women - at least I never have. I thought I was "the only one" who was so interested self-sex until I got almost finished with Nurse Practitioner school at a community college about an hour's drive away from the hospital where I work. Just about this time my boyfriend and I broke up. I was feeling pretty worthless, going to bars almost every night and going home with a lot of guys I shouldn't have been spending time with, doing some really kinky things with them.
One afternoon the coordinator of the Sexual Awareness course we were required to take had arranged the most amazing display of sex toys I think I'll ever see in one place. There were dildos single and double, vibrators of all shapes and sizes, beads, suction devices, many types of butterflies, and even a Sybian and another automatic sex machine which actually would move in and out, rotate, and had variable speeds and penetration depths. We were required to take home two toys and write a report about our experience with them, reports due the following week.
To several of the women, toys like this were no novelty, and I was surprised at that. To a few of us, including me, the idea of choosing sex toys in front of other women was too embarrassing, and we refused to do it. To us, the course coordinator gave each of us a brown paper bag, telling us that our toys were inside, along with some directions.
I was actually quite excited by the idea of taking home toys. I just didn't want the other women to see that. As soon as I was in my car for the hour's drive home I opened the bag. Inside was a small butterfly with what I now know is a "clit stimulator" and a curved bulbous extension which goes inside. The other toy was a medium sized vibrator, with the instructions that I was to try it on my way home! Now that was another exciting thought.
Even before starting the car I hiked up my skirt, placed the vibrator between my thighs, and plugged it into the car's cigarette lighter. Even before I did plugged it in I could feel that delicious heavy feeling in my pelvis, and a quick touch through my panties confirmed that my clitoris was already fully erect, obvious through the cloth.
Once on the open highway I turned the vibrator on to its lowest speed. What a wonderful feeling of freedom! It reminded me right away of high school and rocking back and forth in study hall. But this was even better. I could stimulate a breast with one hand, steer with the other, and get that wonderful slow crescendo of sexuality as I drove - getting myself off "in public" but in a perfectly safe way. I was able to tolerate the low setting of the vibrator for almost ten minutes before I had to reach to gently add finger massage to my clit through my panties. The only sad part was that to do so I had to abandon my breast stimulation. But the resulting orgasm was extremely satisfying.
As soon as I came I turned off the vibe, held my clitoris for many seconds without rubbing. Then I allowed several minutes go pass before starting again. This time I forced myself to keep my hands away from my clit and went back to the old-fashioned lean-forward-and-rock method (without crossing my legs of course). It took a lot longer that way and I had to adjust to position of the vibe several times. Finally I was able to tolerate a higher speed for brief periods of time, switching the corded "remote" switch back and forth between low and medium speed. Only at the moment of orgasm was I forced to use my hand, pressing the vibe against me and rubbing with that. I fantasized that if someone were looking carefully they could see me coming as I drove - but I thought that wasn't actually possible. (Since then I've learned that if you know what to look for, you can sometimes tell when someone's masturbating as they drive.) I also learned that if a woman is going to masturbate while she drives it's a very good idea to place a good thick towel underneath herself beforehand - it's pretty "wet work".
During the next week I used the vibrator inside me as well as outside on my clitoris, experimented with watching myself in the hall mirror as I used it (wonderful!), and tried various ways of wearing the butterfly around the apartment. The butterfly turned out to be the sexiest thing in the world to wear. I loved walking around the apartment naked, vacuuming, cooking, just doing the normal things and masturbating the whole time, hands free. I think I spent more time in front of the mirror and had more orgasms per day that week than I'd ever had before had in a week's time. I hope the course coordinator enjoyed reading my very long report after the next class. With the butterfly I could get almost over the edge but I couldn't quite have an orgasm. This was a wonderful tease, sometimes lasting for an hour or more. The resulting orgasms, also often in front of the mirror, were very intense.
The best thing about all this was that I didn't feel the need to go to the bars or to go home with strange men. I didn't even feel "bad" about masturbating so much. It was the start of a much healthier lifestyle for me. I'm writing this several years later, married now and with a couple of wonderful children. My husband and I have an excellent sex life which includes partner sex and also masturbation, both solo and mutual. I love watching him, he loves watching me. I love having him watch me - and I often fantasize that there's a roomful of people, sometimes men and women, sometimes only men, watching. I also keep a private solo sex life for myself, since I seem to have a need for that. And yes, I do still do it in the car occasionally (sometimes for him, sometimes alone) and I do still wear a butterfly, and sometimes wear it in public. It's noisy, but if I'm careful where and how I use it, I can get amazingly "high", almost crazy-high, with people around me completely unaware. Maybe I'll write about that some time. I wish I could find a butterfly that's quiet enough so that it can't be heard except where there's already some noise to cover it up, or in wide-open places. If there are women who have found a butterfly like that I'd appreciate reading about it.
It's been a delicious turn-on to write this, almost hands-free. I believe I will write again while masturbating, perhaps soon. -Bobbi



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