In Which I Discover My Bisexuality

I thought that I would post some of my own personal experiences with masturbation. I can’t say when I first discovered the pleasures of masturbation, as that event is lost in the mists of history. I can’t really remember a time when I didn’t masturbate. This story describes something that happened when I was about fourteen and describes an event which represented a stage in my journey of sexual development. During my teens I was a pupil at a select girls’ boarding school, St Sappho’s Academy for Young Ladies. (Not, obviously, its real name. If I revealed its real identity I would probably get drummed out of the Old Girls Association). The events described here, however, took place while I was at home during the holidays. One evening my parents were out at a party and my sister Amanda, a year older than me, had a date with her boyfriend, so I was home alone. I was searching for something- I can’t remember what- in my parents’ bedroom when I stumbled upon something that intrigued me. At the bottom of my father’s wardrobe was a stash of girlie mags. I’m not talking hard-core porn- it was all very soft-core Mayfair or Playboy stuff- but it came as a surprise to find out that my supposedly respectable father had something like this in his possession at all. Now like all teenagers I was intensely curious about all things sexual so I started flicking though his hoard, and as I did so I found myself beginning to get aroused. Now I had for some time suspected that I might be bisexual, but my reaction as I gazed at so many pictures of beautiful naked or scantily-clad young women was enough to confirm my suspicions. My hormones were starting to drive me crazy and my juices started flowing until my panties were soaking wet.  I knew I had to do something to ease the constant throbbing in my pussy. I picked up one of the magazines and took it back into my own bedroom. Now at fourteen I was already a frequent masturbatrix, although I was completely self-taught and did not realise that there was any other method of masturbating other than pillow-humping. I stripped down to my panties, laid down my pillow lengthways along the bed and lay astride it.  I opened the magazine, an old copy of Mayfair, to show the model whose pictures I found most arousing. I remember that she was a busty, voluptuous beautiful brunette named Adele Bowman.   I began to masturbate to a hot fantasy about Adele. Now although St Sappho’s had a sex education programme, it consisted of little more than diagrams of the human reproductive system and a brief introduction to the mechanics of heterosexual intercourse. Lesbian sex was most definitely off the syllabus, and as this was in the 1980s we had no internet to educate us about matters not covered in the official school curriculum, with the result that I did not really know what lesbians did in bed together. I had to use my imagination, and always envisaged lesbian love-making as simply involving the two girls rubbing their bodies together. (Actually, my guess was not altogether inaccurate). As I imagined Adele and myself rubbing up against one another, I felt my nose beginning to tickle and Atishoo!, Atishoo! Atishoo! I was overcome by a sudden sneezing fit. This didn’t worry me. With me sexually-induced sneezing is a common symptom of sexual arousal, one that I had already experienced on a number of occasions while fantasising or masturbating.  My sneezes only served to heighten my arousal and I continued to thrust my sopping pussy against my pillow (which in my imagination was Adele’s thigh). It didn’t take long before my constant thrusting triggered by orgasm and I came with a long, drawn-out cry of pleasure. (As I was home alone I didn’t need to keep the sound down). What happened next, however, almost proved my undoing. A young girl’s orgasm seems to take more out of her body and to use up more energy than an adult woman’s, and during my teenage years coming often left me feeling drained, drowsy and dreamy.   Almost as soon as I had come I began to feel sleepy, started yawning and within a few minutes was fast asleep. If my parents had found me like this I would have been in trouble, but I was saved by the fact that my sister Amanda got home before them. She was, of course, well aware of what I had been doing, having also found and pleasured herself to Dad’s porn stash. She woke me with a gentle tap on my bum and helped me get the magazine back into the wardrobe and get into bed just in time to avoid disgrace. There was to be a sequel to this incident, but that will have to await another story.