How I Learned To Masturbate.

One summer, I was sent away to spend a few days with my somewhat older cousin Stephanie, in the next state over, while my parents tried patching up their marriage, which by the way ended in divorce. I've since gotten over the hurt, more or less.

Steph used to post on Solotouch. Look up member "Stephanie". When she became engaged to marry, she deleted her Solotouch avatar and doesn't post any more.

I slept in Steph's bedroom. She had an extra twin bed to accommodate the occasional guest, whether a visiting relative or non-family member. Boy or girl, it didn't matter[?!] so she said. 

Every night before going to sleep, we chatted endlessly about everything under the sun. When the topic of sex came up, she casually mentioned that she masturbates every night when not on her period. She was surprised that I, a healthy 14 year old at the time, had not discovered it myself. I wasn't even sure what it means. It was remote and mysterious to me. I thought she must be putting me on, making it up. I knew about sex and masturbation in theory, but had no experience.

That night after she turned off the lights, and our chatting died away, all kinds of images kept swirling in my head. I laid in bed, unable to fall asleep. After a while, I began to hear quiet rhythmic squishing sounds coming from Stephanie's side of the room. I stayed perfectly still, strained my ears, listened intently. It continued for a few minutes until the squishing grew faster. The bed started squeaking. Her breathing became shallow and faster. Soon afterward the squishing stopped. The squeaking stopped. She took a couple of deep breaths. Her breathing slowly returned to normal. I didn't dare make a sound, not wanting her to know that I was awake. She rustled around on the bed and her breathing gradually morphed into sleep-breathing. I didn't sleep well that night.

Next morning, I got up early, quietly dressed, went to the bathroom, then tiptoed barefoot down the stairs. When Steph came down for breakfast, I whispered in her ear (out of earshot of her parents) to tell her I heard the squishing sounds last night. She said, in a light airy tone without bothering to whisper, "Oh that? I was masturbating."

Her parents heard, barely reacting except to briefly glance toward each other, while continuing to tuck into their pancakes and sausages. I was shocked she would talk about masturbating where they could hear. I expected at least one of them sternly admonish her for bad manners, immodesty, or something. But no. Nothing. Worst of all, I felt sorry for her. Embarrassed for her.

Later, I asked if she was crazy for talking about masturbating in front of her parents, with me present no less. "No." I was dumfounded. How could she be so unashamed about such a personal thing? I asked her why. She just shrugged, as if to say it's no big deal. She said she and her parents keep no secrets from each other. She emphasized "Nothing is off limits or out of bounds." She said they supported and encouraged her when she herself started asking about masturbation and sex. I asked if she planned to masturbate again that night. "Of course."

I was stunned at just how different her family dynamic was in comparison to mine. I found it quite refreshing, liberating in a way. At home, sex was never discussed, a big taboo. For just one example out of many, I once asked my mother what oral sex is, she told me to ask my father. He told me to ask her. I got nowhere but frustrated. I stopped bothering to ask. I came to believe that sex was something people don't discuss, it must be shameful and dirty, or so I thought. With Steph I was able to open up and ask some of those questions. She patiently answered anything I wanted to know and never belittled me for not already knowing.

Next night, Steph and I were in our beds chatting away again. I asked if I could watch her masturbate this time. I've seen internet porn more than once, but I wanted to witness it in real life. I also wanted to test her, to see if she was as open and unashamed with me as she claimed to be with her parents. She said I could watch, but only after we turn out the lights. Ah ha! Shame peeked out from its hidey-hole. Got her, I thought. How wrong I was.

With the lights out, the room was pitch black, except for a blue nightlight glowing from the baseboard. It lit up the wall next to her bed but only after my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I could see her in dim silhouette, could barely tell what she was doing. She pulled her panties down to her ankles. Her hand squirmed around between her legs. Eventually, I heard the squishing sound again. 

I started rubbing myself over my panties to see what it feels like. It was nothing, no different than swiping when changing out pads or after peeing. The squishing sounds went on until she orgasmed. I could see her hips bobbing, making the bed squeak. I didn't know what orgasm is at the time.

She finished, lifted her hips off the bed, pulled up her panties. She asked if I had seen enough. "I guess so" I said, then admitted, "Well, not really". She turned on the lights and told me to describe what I saw. She filled in the blanks for me, showed me exactly how she does it, and why. She even showed me what her pussy looks like, where her clit is, and what her fingers do down there.

I found it hard to believe that masturbating could feel any different than what I felt, which was nothing. She told me to try it myself. I said I did, while watching, but it didn't do anything. She said it might take a few tries before it starts to work. "I'll help you work on it tomorrow," she said. (Butterflies immediately began fluttering in my stomach, at the thought).

The next night after our usual chatty time, she confidently declared "Now for fun time. We are going to masturbate, but first we're getting naked, and the lights are staying on." "WHAT!? Why naked, and why the lights?" Butterflies times ten. 

She said it will feel more exciting, our orgasms will be more intense. I asked why no lights last night. She didn't want to scare me away. But now that the ice had been broken, no worries.

So we stripped. I was shy at first but I followed her lead. We were giggling, running and jumping around, hopping on and off the beds, throwing articles of clothing and pillows at each other, generally raising a rukus. Then... shit. Shit. SHIT! Uncle Wendell suddenly threw open the door, and said to keep the noise down, they can't sleep with all that racket. 

I shrieked, covered up, turned sideways to him, and tucked myself into the corner, as far from him as I could get. He then apologized for bursting in like that. Stephanie calmly marched over to where he stood, put her hands on his shoulders, pulled him down to her level, and whispered something in his ear, then backed him out of the room. She made no effort to hide her nakedness. From the hallway, he called out to me to apologize again. Steph nonchalantly walked back in and quietly closed the door. I was horrified that he would do that. I was also ashamed that I acted like a frightened puppy. That alone was embarrassing, never mind being seen naked by him. She told me to relax, it's no big deal. Nothing's a big deal with her. I wondered why.

I asked her if he barges in like that any old time he wants. "No." "That's all you're going to say, just no?" I asked. "Doesn't it bother you that he saw you naked? Why aren't you embarrassed? Why didn't you cover up?" She said forget about it, it's not important. I begged her to explain, but she wouldn't. She finally said "please, drop it." They are an odd family indeed. Not that mine's normal, but this is a new level of odd.

I lost interest in masturbating, and made a move to put my things back on. She stopped me, looked me right in the eye. "Let's just get back to our plan," (meaning 'her' plan). I agreed, not wanting to be a buzzkill. It's not like I expected anything to happen on my part anyway. 

She offered me the Vaseline jar. She scooped up some for herself, told me to get some too. Makes it more slippery, she said with a naughty-looking smile. She laid down like before, closed her eyes, and withdrew into her own world. On my bed, I copied what she did on her's. This time, with my slippery fingers on my bare pussy, it felt different, naughty, but interesting somehow, still not that great though. I spread my lips apart and found my clit hiding where she said it is. I never even knew I had it. Actually, touching my pussy between the lips felt a bit gross.

I found it hard to concentrate. After a while, I said nothing's happening. She told me to think about something sexy. I couldn't stop thinking about her father leering at me, embarrassed as hell trying to cover myself. That was humiliating, but strangely exciting, I have to admit. I began to wonder what would have happened if I didn't cover up and just stood in place, faced him calmly, like Stephi did. Even more distracting, I worried he would pop in again and see me masturbating. The thought was even worse, terrifying, yet arousing. I was determined not to react if he came in again. At the least not to act like that frightened puppy.

I was getting nowhere, so I said "do you mind if I just watch you for a while?". "Knock yourself out" she said. So I rolled onto my side and watched her masturbate on her back, knees spread apart like before, whole body on full display. Her little titties are a lot like mine, small cones when she's standing, and flattening out somewhat when she lays on her back. 

After a while, I rolled onto my back and tried again. That's when it started to feel kind of nice. I mean really nice. Gradually at first, but then starting to get better and better. My clit felt like a ticklish little bump and it felt good to rub around it. I didn't know what was happening. My orgasm started to build, but it came on too fast. I opened my eyes and stopped rubbing. That broke the spell. I was scared. I looked over at Steph to discover she had been watching me! She asked "Why did you stop?" I told her it was too much, I got scared, I didn't know what to do. She said "You almost hit the jackpot. Try it again."

I tried again, but it didn't work, I couldn't concentrate any more, especially with her watching. I gave up. She laid back and I watched her masturbate in all her glory, no shame, no shyness. With the lights on, I had the best view. I even dared to walk around to the foot of her bed where I saw her doing everything she told me about, right through to her orgasm.

Next morning she announced, while glaring pointedly at Uncle Wendell: "Emi almost came last night. She was on the verge but got scared and stopped." She then turned to me and said "Keep going next time, don't stop." 

I couldn't believe she said all that in front of her parents! I began to think she did that on purpose, that the whole thing was a setup to humiliate me. But no. I later came to accept that talking about sexual things is normal for them, no different than talking about the weather, or the neighbor's cat getting into the flower garden again. Aunt Sue said "She's right Emi" then took another sip from her tea cup.

I shrank in my chair looking down at my barely-nibbled-on omelete, and nodded. I didn't feel like finishing it. I could feel a hot blush spread over my face. I hoped they didn't notice. I wanted to melt away and ooze through the cracks in the floor and never show my face in front of them again. I wanted to slap Steph's face too. Later, I asked her why she keeps embarrassing me like that. Her dismissive response was "Meh, don't be embarrassed, it's no big deal, there's nothing to be ashamed about." I was so mad I could have screamed.

All day I was boiling mad but kept it bottled up inside until some of her friends came over to kick around a soccer ball with us. I kicked that ball as hard as I could every chance I got to blow off some steam! I tried kicking it at Steph several times, finally managed to blast her in the back, slammed her right between the shoulder blades. It caused her head to snap back. I instantly felt extremely regretful, guilty for hurting her. I apologized profusely. She said it's OK, those things happen. I give her credit for staying cool. It would have ruined my whole stay if we got into a fight. 

My anger immediately disappeared, sorry for what I had done. Instead, I felt a powerful surge of sympathy and warm feelings for her. But I still could not wrap my head around everything I've been hearing and going though. 

I started feeling strange as the afternoon wore on. I know that feeling now... it's called getting horny, anticipating what's to come... or cum. I couldn't wait for bedtime.

That night I wasn't shy when we stripped naked again. In fact, I started as soon as she closed the door. We were being quiet so as not to provoke another intrusion by her father.

Getting serious now, we scooped out some Vaseline, and started masturbating. I copied her position again: feet on the bed, shoulder width apart and close to my butt, knees up and spread apart, my legs forming a 'V'. I closed my eyes. 

Images of Uncle Wendell watching us masturbate, watching me masturbate, kept swirling around in my mind. I imagined he stood in the doorway at the foot of Steph's bed, seeing my naked body across the room, silently watching, leering, and me not caring a whit. That's when my arousal started building, like it did the night before. I was getting scared again. For the briefest moment, I wanted to stop. But Steph's words "keep going" echoed through my skull, so I kept going. In my mind, he's still watching us, watching me. He comes close, stands over me, I'm naked, on full display, hiding nothing, masturbating with abandon. My rubbing and stroking became more urgent when WHAM! A warm sensation washed over me. It radiated out from my clit and spread over my whole body and coalesced into my first orgasm. My fingers kept gliding over my super ticklish clit, I set my bed to squeaking and I didn't care. 

Wow! I couldn't believe how good that was. I wanted it to last but eventually it came to an end. Why did no one ever tell me about this? I didn't even realize, until after it was over, that I had been caressing my titties with the other hand. My nipples were hard and ticklish. 

I looked over to see that Steph was on her side, head propped on her hand. "Told you" was all she said. Then she rolled onto her back and I watched her masturbate until she came too. I felt as if I had been accepted into some sort of private club.

The next morning, Steph told her parents that I had finally got my first orgasm. I hissed through my teeth "shuuut uuup!" in an angry side whisper but it was too late.

To my surprise, they leaped to their feet, clapped and cheered, congratulated me, high fived me and each other, welcomed me into their not-so-private-anymore club. Uncle Wendell handed me a very nice "Certificate of Achievement" on fancy paper, with an artistic rendering of a girl masturbating. Above the girl, in Old English font, it reads: "Presented to Emily H---, In Recognition of Achieving Her First Orgasm, on this day ". At the bottom, Steph, Uncle Wendell, and Aunt Sue signed it. I framed it and treasure it. I display it on my living room wall to this day. Everyone who visits my apartment sees it. It's a great conversation starter, especially when I bring a new hookup home. My Mom hates it by the way. Every time she comes over, she tells me to get rid of it. Dad doesn't care, actually told me he likes it.

Steph and her parents seemed genuinely pleased, they accepted me. I was no longer ashamed or embarrassed. They made me feel pleased with myself, as if I just overcame a big hurdle. I actually swelled with pride. Then I burst into tears. They surrounded me in a group hug until I managed to get control of myself again.

That's how I learned to masturbate. I'm so grateful to Steph and her parents. That week was the best thing that could have happened to me that summer.

But a question kept nagging at the back of my mind though. It finally came to the forefront of my thinking the morning I was to leave for home. I asked Steph about why she was so nonchalant when her father burst into the room. She wouldn't say. I appealed to her openness. I asked why she would keep a secret from me when she and her parents kept no secrets from each other. I said it made me feel like an outsider again. Uncle Wendell goaded her "go on Steph, tell her". So she gave in and started telling me the full story. Her parents added color commentary here and there as well.

It seems her parents were in what they call the "group sex" lifestyle. And they also vacation at a nudist resort every summer. It wasn't uncommon for them, Stephanie included, to go around the house topless, or even nude. 

I asked her about when she told me that she occasionally had a guest stay in her room, boy or girl. Uncle Wendell answered that one. The previous year, a friend of theirs in the group sex scene told them about their son Knute, who still had not discovered his sexual being. 

After discussing it with Stephi, Uncle Wendell offered to let Knute stay over a couple of nights. They would put him up in Steph's room. Not surprisingly, that was the spark that ignited Knute's sexual side with a bang. Literally! As it turned out, Knute was the first of several such "visitors" that Steph had tutored, myself being her latest success story. Steph was right when she told me I wouldn't believe it. But I believe it now. 

The previous night, they laid on a very nice dinner. Steph invited two friends of hers, Anna and Robert, who were then in college and dating each other. We had great conversation. Each person recounted some interesting sexual anecdotes that they had witnessed or experienced. Uncle Wendell and Aunt Sue had the most to share. Anna and Robert weren't shy about sharing their past sex lives either. I was listening, but didn't have anything to add myself. Until Aunt Sue said "Don't you have anything to share, Emi?" At first I said No." Then Steph piped up and said "Go on Em, we all would like to hear about your first orgasm." 

I was shocked, could feel myself blushing. But they all started chanting "Speech, speech..." I couldn't resist any longer, feeling kind of guilty having heard about everybody's wildest sexual experiences, and me too shy to tell my relatively inconsequential little story.

So I bucked up, and told them how it all happened. Their applause when I finished capped it for me. I resolved never to be shy, ashamed, or embarrassed again, about any sexual events in my life from that time on. And I have kept true to myself ever since.

Postscript: As usual, I showed my rough draft to my boyfriend Dave. He helped me polish it into what you are reading. I hope you find it interesting. Afterward, he and I engaged in a most sensual session of not merely sex, but profound, deep lovemaking. Thank you Dave. (He's such a good sport.)

My usual disclaimer... the names may or may not have been changed to protect the guilty.

Thanks a ton for reading. Love you all.