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Posted by: Author: Age: then 13 now 48 Posted on: 1 comments
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Its funny how you can forget something that was very significant at the time it happened. Recently, my husband and I were looking at some homes and I saw a old bathtub that brought back a pleasant memory.


This happened when I was thirteen. I hated my body and the changes I was going through. My periods had begun when I was twelve and I had terrible cramps each month. I refused to wear the training bras my mother bought for me and the starched blouses from my school uniform chaffed at my puffy nipples.

My mother worked at an art gallery in Montreal. Sometimes she had to travel to look at particular paintings for her clients and took me on a few of her trips.

I recall we flew into Boston and drove all day out into the New England countryside, but had no idea where we went. We stayed at an older hotel that looked like it had been a mansion.

The next day my mother left me alone in the hotel room while she went out for her meetings. We had breakfast together, delivered to our room before she left.

I spent the morning doing nothing but reading but soon grew bored and decided to take a bath.

The bathroom was almost as big as the bedroom itself, with a huge square bathtub built into the floor. It was not like a classic claw-foot tub but one that sat flat on the floor with the water faucets attached to the wall. The water came out of a long copper pipe shaped like an upside-down 'J' that squirted directly into the center of the tub There were some bath salts and bubble bath which I dumped in while waiting for the tub to fill. For a moment I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself. I was and still am a small person. My breasts were just protruding with more than half made up by my nipples. I had a small growth of pubic hair in a fine line over my crack and much to my disgust a thicker mass down between my legs and around my anus. My vagina was tight and wet and warm inside. I liked myself. I liked my body and the way it looked.

I don't know how I ended up where I did but at some point I found myself laying on my back with my legs hooked over the edge of the tub and my hips directly under the water spout. The thin stream of warm water came down directly on my vulva and the feelings of pleasure washed over my tiny body like the warm water itself. I rubbed my hands over my soapy nipples, feeling the tingling as they hardened.

I had experimented with masturbation before and had brought myself to orgasm with my fingers but this was a totally different situation. This was total body pleasure. It was like a constant, continual climax. I cocked my hips so that the water came down directly on my clitoris and with my hands I opened myself. I inserted fingers into my vagina, into my anus.

Each time the water would fill up high enough that I could not breathe with my head flat on the bottom of the tub I would pull the plug and let the water drain out. I must have been at it for at least two hours before the hot water finally ran out and I had to quit.

I remember climbing out of the tub, my legs all rubbery, completely waterlogged and covered with soap. I towelled off climbed back into bed. Once I had warmed up I began to fantasize about some boy and I masturbated again and fell asleep, content.

My mother came back in the early afternoon and found me sleeping soundly. We went out and had lunch at a little diner in the village.

That night my mom had a tub bath. I recall watching her undress and looking at her large breasts, seeing the stretch marks on her belly and being shocked to see her clean shaved pussy. Once she was in the tub she closed the door and I thought she was doing what I had that morning.

When she got out, I went in and watched her dress. For a moment she stood with one leg on the edge of the tub as she rubbed body cream into her legs. I could clearly see her vulva, her lips and the opening to her vagina. It was hard for me to imagine that I had once come out of that place and that my father would touch her there, put his penis there.

That night, my mother went out for a late dinner and drinks with her client. I was alone again and masturbated several times again.

When we returned home after the trip, I began to see myself as a woman not as a girl.

I had forgotten all about that day until I saw another bathtub just like that one.



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