I can’t remember the first time I felt sexually aroused, I do remember the first time I had an orgasm though. I had just turned 18 – I know, I was late to the game.
My Gran hadn’t long been placed into a nursing home as she had lost her eyesight and dementia had started to set in. One afternoon we were cleaning out her house and I stumbled across piles of trashy romance novels. The kind that had men in half opened, white flowing shirts with a beautiful woman clinging to their chests. I lifted one and started flicking through it. The way it described kissing was completely different to anything I had experienced up to that point. My foray into ‘meeting’, which was what us kids called it at the time, was a disaster. It usually involved teeth bashing against each others, mouths either open way too much or not enough. Tongues shoved in and whirled round like washing machines on a spin cycle. The few times I had kissed someone it didn’t have much of an effect on me.
These books were different and they fascinated me, but at the same time made me think there was something fundamentally wrong with me, that I was broken for not feeling what these books described. They described kissing with mouths hungry and devouring. Tongues thrusting and dueling. Even thinking about it now, I feel the familiar heat pool deep and heavy in my belly, spreading lower. Anyway I digress, I asked my mum if I could keep some of the books and without looking up to see what I was talking about, she agreed.
Later that night I lay in my bed reading about an engorged member and a warm wet womanhood joining in a moment of pure explosive pleasure. I must have read the same two pages again and again while my fingers skimmed over my clit. The feelings described on the pages seemed to match the ones building within myself. I felt a rawness and an edge that both terrified me and intrigued me. My body urging me not to stop. My hips lifting off the bed with every pass of my fingertips. I remember feeling suffocated with the heavy duvet over me, too scared that someone would walk in; I didn’t dare remove it.
My heart was pounding, breathing was erratic. My fingers pushing and pulling harder on this magical little nub that made my skin break out in goosebumps and my cunt gush with a wetness that felt like silk when rubbed beneath my fingers. I came hard, my whole body shaking with the force of my orgasm. My mouth biting down on the corner of the pillow to muffle the surprised screams and curse words tumbling out and into the pale pink cotton.
