Julie's Book

I grew up as an only child of older parents. My parents never talked with me about sex, and as a result I was incredibly naive. Like most young girls I discovered that humping pillows on sleepy weekend mornings felt amazing. Wearing my light cotton nightgown, I would straddle a pillow or a large stuffed animal (my polar bear worked quite well) and make the nether region between my legs tingle. Nothing Earth shattering. 

I was completely a nerdy girl. Although I wasn’t a social outcast, I mostly kept to myself, especially where boys were concerned. They just seemed dumb. I was the brainy kid in class–the one who got the best grades, finished classwork early, and pulled out a book while others worked on their class assignments. 

My best friend was Julie, who was also really smart. She physically developed later than me. My breasts weren’t large–size B–but they budded out before hers. I had my period first, my pubic hair first, and my braces off first. Julie was cute with long blond hair and a small body all around. She, however, was a mighty girl. Outgoing and brave, she would stand up to any boy in the class who made a sexist or rude comment. Her comebacks were quick, harsh, and effective. Being her friend had its benefits. 

Growing up I didn’t think very much of my body. However, I joined a swim team in middle school for two years, and at the same time my body developed nicely. I was never chubby, but once I started swimming, my body got toned. With puberty, I developed breasts that were smaller but good looking, real hips, and glutes that made my butt look tight and toned. 

Still I was hopelessly naive. 

Julie’s  family was nothing like mine. Like me she was an only child, but her parents were much younger and hip. Her mother was gorgeous, slender with full breasts, and quite liberated. Her dad was athletic, bearded, and handsome. Since they had a pool in their backyard, I would come over to hang out and play, especially after I quit the swim team. I would check out her parents when they were out in their swimsuits. My parents never showed any skin whatsoever. Her parents both had small, tight suits that got my attention. They would French kiss openly in front of us. One afternoon they left the pool both kind of giggling, and I could hear them a few minutes later having sex in their bedroom. The bed made a thumping noise with every thrust, and she pleasurably grunted right along with the rhythm. Then I heard him say, “Oh yes, oh yes, OH YES!” as the bed stopped bumping. 

I was fascinated and turned on. Julie wasn’t embarrassed in the least. 

The next time that I visited, I went back into Julie’s room to change into my swimsuit as usual. I noticed that she had a book on her bedside table that was all about women’s health. The book was lavishly illustrated, having chapters on breasts, puberty, reproduction, birth control, erotic pleasure, and so forth. Painfully curious, I started flipping through the book, when Julie came in to change. She laughed when she saw me with her book and said that her mother gave it to her for her fourteenth birthday. I giggled nervously, telling her that my parents had not even had “the talk” with me yet. She casually said, “Why don’t you just borrow the book for the next couple of weeks. I’ve already read it a couple of times.” 

When I brought Julie's women’s health book back to my house, I hid it from my parents and brought it out at night once they had gone to bed. I staying up late studying every part of the book like the nerd that I was. I learned the Latin names for my privates: vulva, labia, clitoris. The next morning after my parents left the house, I stripped off my clothes and brought out a hand mirror. Spreading my legs wide, I really looked at my vulva for the first time up close. The book was beside me, opened to an illustration with lines and labels pointing out all of the parts. I traced my finger slowly over the outer labia to the inner labia. I could feel my heartbeat getting faster as I got more aroused. My finger dipped into the vaginal opening. I felt the wetness that the book told me was there to lubricate a penis for smoother sex. That idea excited my imagination. Here I was, never having romantically held hands with a boy, and my vagina was physically preparing to have a penis penetrate it at that moment. 

With my finger now wet from my juices, I traveled up to my clitoral hood. WOW. My whole body jerked from the intensity of the touch. The feeling was so much more powerful than humping a toy polar bear. Trying to hold the mirror steady with one hand, I used the other to circle my engorged clit. My breathing got shorter and more ragged. After a minute, I put the mirror down, laid back, and rubbed my clit back and forth with a finger on either side. I could feel something wonderfully strange building inside me. With my free hand I unconsciously pinched my nipple. I arched my back and increased the tempo of my clit rubbing. When the orgasm came, it was like a wave rolling over every part of my body. My legs shook. My eyes watered. I let out a loud, animalistic grunt. I placed my fingers down on my very wet vagina and could feel the contractions. 

That morning I started my experience with serious masturbation. It helped that one of the chapters in Julie’s women’s health book discussed masturbation as normal and healthy. I rubbed out two more orgasms that day. Although I don’t masturbate every day, I do most days using pretty much the same technique I tried that first morning–gentle pussy touching followed by increasingly intense clit rubbing. I just don’t need a mirror and a book beside me anymore. 

Two weeks later, I visited Julie’s house again, and I brought back her book. She asked, “So what did you think?” I leaned in and emphatically said, “Your birthday book changed my life.”