This is an anonymous guest post – The Early Starter’s Story
– a delayed response to Do Women Really Talk About Masturbation? By CuntyChopalops
Let’s play two truths and a lie. You know the game, I’ll make three statements – two are true and one is a big fat lie, but can you guess which?
- I’m a lady
- I wank with the regularity and fervour of a 14 year old boy
- I tell everyone and talk about it all the time.
Number 1 could be debated, but I’ve got the tits to prove it, so in your face, doubters! We’re left with 2 or 3. I’ll fess up, it’s number 3. Did you guess? In the spirit of further confession, I’ve been wanking for as long as I can remember.
Yes, really as long as I can remember. By my best reckoning, I was a practised onanist by the age of 5, which means I must have been doing it for at least a year or two before that. How did I discover it? No idea, but please rest assured it wasn’t the result of any abuse or grim stuff like that. It was just something to do that felt nice. The longer I did it the nicer it felt until suddenly it felt very VERY nice. So I kept on doing it, not knowing what ‘it’ was, and sometimes feeling scared that perhaps I was doing myself some long-term damage, but at the same time, damn….. it was just too good to stop.
Even then though, it was obvious that nice children of either sex did not play with their bits, and despite the thrill of ‘I’ll show you mine, you show me yours games’ with boys at school, some innate sense of self preservation told me not to tell them about my pastime.
Keeping it secret didn’t stop me experimenting though. There were any number of positions and techniques to try. With the same sexual insight as a public schoolboy, I took to timing myself on my hand-held Pac Man machine. My zero-to-orgasm record was nine seconds. Nowadays though, I like to take a bit longer.
On it secretly went until the time came when I decided to include another person in my sex sessions. Aged 15 I took myself off to a party and fucked some random bloke. All I remember about him is that he was 21 and was called Malcolm. I can remember the details of what I was wearing (cream knitted dress and sparkly black high heels – horrific, yes, but it was the ‘80s, OK?) better than I remember him, to be honest. It was here though, that my years of private practice came home to roost. I knew what I wanted, how I wanted it and as a result, came royally first time out of the blocks.
The next few years were probably reasonably typical – meeting, screwing, and sometimes, although not very often, dating men. In each encounter, I saw an orgasm as I imagine a man might – as an expected, inevitable part of sex rather than a hoped for bonus. It’s going to happen and it does happen. I’ve never had sex without coming. The point of sex without orgasm is somewhat elusive.
I love watching men wank. It’s the best way to learn how they like to be touched. I love men watching me wank. All the men I’ve been with have seen me do it, though not always known the extent of my habit.
From there on in, my wanking story mirrors Cunty’s. Regular and often, except during pregnancy, when it’s near constant and RSI-inducing.
That’s not really the kind of masturbation that we’re not talking about though is it?
Our language associates masturbation with being a lonely social inadequate who can’t get anyone to have sex with them. Surely we must all do it, women and men, and most of us also have ‘proper’ sex lives too, so why are we worried about being labelled a complete wanker, a jerk or a sad tosser?
I suspect that neither men nor women talk about the day-to-day, functional, getting your rocks off wanking we all do. Plenty of men I know have a humourous tale about wanking; the time they did it on speed and gave themselves blisters or the time they got caught by their mum, but do you really have full and frank discussions about it? “Ooh I tell you what Steve, I come like a fucking steam train when I put my wife’s knickers on my head and gently caress my balls whilst watching Scooby Doo videos. You should try it, sunshine”
You don’t, do you? (You can lie and say yes, because I’d fucking love it if you did).
In my teens and early twenties, any tentative conversations about masturbation with female friends always resulted in the same conclusion. “I’ve tried it, but I much prefer proper sex, so I don’t bother”. Clearly a massive, steaming pile of bullshit, but that’s the line that was established, and that’s the one we all stuck to.
Now I’m in my thirties, women I know on the internet at least, will happily admit to owning sex toys and enjoying a downstairs shuffle on a regular basis, but the, ahem, ins and outs? No, no, no, no. I’m laughing at the very thought of the women I know in real life sharing masturbatory tips with each other. Never gonna happen. Intelligent, sexy, funny, irreverent and liberated women, all of them, but good girls just don’t talk about it, OK?