This is what it was like when I first started jilling and had a long time to really tease myself. (Of course, there are other times you just need to rub out a quick one in a public toilet, and those are good too.)
Some of my best teenage masturbation memories are of lying on the bathroom floor, naked, with my legs bent and spread wide. From this angle, my breasts look softly rounded, and I can just see the tips of my nipples, erect already in anticipation of being pulled and twisted.
I run my hands over my body, starting at my upper thighs and moving slowly up to my tits. I cup them and squeeze hard, massaging until they feel warm, before I turn my attention to the nipples. I twist them slowly until I can twist no more, then pinch until the pain makes me gasp. My pussy contracts involuntarily with the pleasure I get from this pain, as I rub my nipples raw. I touch them gently now, the rough handling from before heightening the sensations as I tweak them lightly with my nails.
Soon I’m ready to start exploring my vulva, running my fingers over my outer lips and enjoying the way they feel fuller the more turned on I get. By the time I start touching my inner labia, they’re usually puffy and swollen, and I run my fingers lightly over the super-sensitized skin, feeling how soft they are without any lubrication.
I dip two fingers of each hand into the opening of my pussy, now overflowing with juices, and rub the liquid onto my raw nipples. They sting, and the pain I feel intensifies the pleasure building between my legs, especially when I twist my nipples some more.
Finally I’m ready to touch my labia again, this time pulling wetness up to cover them, loving how the extra slickness increases the response of all the nerve endings. At the top of my clit, I rub the hood gently in circles with my middle finger, feeling my finger hit the top of my hard-swollen clit on the bottom of each circle. I pull my hood back to reveal my engorged clit, but even gentle pressure is too much for me right now so I let the hood fall back and continue stroking from above.
When I feel the familiar heaviness of my orgasm approaching, I manage to pull my fingers away, trying to empty my mind and not concentrate on how close I am to cumming.
After a half a minute or so, when my excitement has abated slightly, I start touching my clit again. This time I go very slowly and gently, just pressing my index finger lightly onto the very top of my slit. I move it away slowly and then touch myself a little lower, carefully working my way to my excited clit. Sometimes I have to stop, my breathing heavy, because I don’t want to climax just yet.
When I was in my early teens, I felt guilty about masturbating, so I gave it a break for over a year. Well, not entirely. I would sometimes caress myself slowly and gently, not quite getting up to the orgasm plateau but feeling pleasure nonetheless. It was definitely hard to back off in time. I’m still amazed that I did it so often and successfully.
One night I was playing with my clit, rubbing it in slow, soft circles, my moisture providing plenty of lube. I began taking myself toward the plateau, sure I could stop in time. The first time I was able to. I had actually reached the plateau when I yanked my hand away. My clit was throbbing with so much pleasure that I had to lie perfectly still, afraid that any movement would take me over the edge.
After at least a minute, I’m able to move again, so I cup my tits, gently squeezing them and rolling the nipples between my fingers. The pleasure from this keeps me on the edge for a while until I just have to touch my clitoris again. Lying there quietly and not touching myself has let the moisture dry off my clit and labia, but there is still a slight residue that makes the delicate skin of the hood stick slightly to my finger.
I start softly at the top, pressing slightly on the engorged shaft of my clit that I can feel through my hood. I lift my finger slightly and move it down about half a centimetre, pressing again. The realization is at the back of my mind that I really don’t want to stop this time. From the well of my pussy, I pick up some of the ample juices with the fingers of my right hand. With my left hand, I pull up the hood of my clit, exposing the sensitive tip to the air. Slowly, I use two slick fingers from my right hand to touch the tip, which causes my cunt to twitch involuntarily, although I’m not climaxing yet.
It only takes three slow strokes to send me over the edge to pleasure so strong that I feel like my orgasm will never subside. It slows down slightly and then convulses more strongly again as I press my hand hard against my vulva and squeeze my legs together.
Later that evening, I was lying in bed, not even thinking of anything sexual, when I started to feel waves building up through my cunt. Without even touching myself, I exploded in an orgasm so strong, it made me buck my hips and cry out. I think my poor pussy had been deprived for so long that it needed more release. That's never happened since, but I wish it would!