Who would have thought?
I certainly didn't. I grew up in an era where you did not play with yourself. Not good girls and boys. So all these years, I never masturbated.
Sometime around my fifty-third birthday, I just happened to wake up horny as all hell. I had been single for years, and I dated very little, so I was pretty much living the life of a nun. Just when I thought I should be through menopause with a dead libido, all I could think about was sex. Christ, I tingled all the time. A good-looking man made my nipples hard, and no – menopause was not in sight. Good breeding stock, I guess you might say.
I found this erotic literature site on the net, and I started reading the stories I found there. Oh, and I have a secret...shhhh... come closer... I looked at the porn videos, too. When I tell you I was horny – I was really, really horny.
This went on for a few months. I kept thinking the urges would go away. I read more sex stories than I care to admit to reading. One night I was sitting at my desk, reading a non-consensual themed piece, when I realized my tingling sensation had turned into an out and out throbbing of my clit.
I stupidly looked around (I live alone, so that made perfect sense). I unzipped my jeans and eased them down my hips. I leaned back on my office chair, spread my legs, took my right hand and pressed into my crotch.
I swear I could feel heat, and my clit throbbed more and more. I started rubbing the entire area, like trying to scratch an itch. Nothing was helping. Oh God, could I really do this?
I got to the really steamy part in the story where the guy just started to run his finger up and down the woman's slit. I slid my hand inside my panties and ran my finger up and down. I literally did what the male character was doing – until I plunged my middle finger inside my hot hole.
I never knew just how satisfying that could feel. Moving it in and out, and then adding a second finger, I continued to fuck myself. It was good. It was so damn good. The more I kept reading, the more I went at it, and the wetter I became. But, something was still missing.
The throbbing had continued. I knew it was my clit calling to me. Although it had been years, I vaguely remembered the absolute pleasure of a man's tongue as he hit my clit. Could I do that?
I removed my fingers from my dripping hole and slowly ran them up my slit, searching for the hard knob at the top of it. The first time I hit it, I let out a very audible gasp. God, it felt good.
I leaned back further, spread my legs wider and started making slow circles around my clit. Every so often, I would rub it and my body would jump. By now, I had stopped reading. My eyes were half closed and I was rubbing my clit in what was approaching a very frenzied pace. I took my left hand, slid it under my bra and began rolling, pinching and tugging at my very hard nipples.
Rubbing, rubbing, rubbing, occasionally sliding my two fingers back in. When it hit, it hit hard. I almost fell off the chair. I started panting and my back arched. In the back of my mind, I could hear this peculiar sound. It took me a moment to realize it was me, moaning. I was in self-fucking heaven as I brought myself to orgasm.
What the hell was wrong with our parents, telling us this was a bad thing? I felt so warm, tingly all over and very, very satisfied. From that day forward, except when I had my period, I got myself off at least once a day.
This went on for a few months. My hand was fast becoming my best friend. And I was happy – cumming on my own terms, no demands, but still I wanted more.
One night, I couldn't sleep. That's something that sometimes happens to the "mature" female. I turned on the television to find something boring enough to send me back to sleep. As soon as the screen came on, my eyes shot wide open.
Two gorgeous women were talking about sex toys. It was an infomercial for god damn sex toys! Holy shit! And they used to censor Barbara Eden's navel?
Have you ever seen one of these? Do you have any idea how many dildos, vibrators, clit stimulators, magic bullets and fake pussies there are out there? Have you ever seen a thirteen inch black dildo? I mean, holy crap! I guess I really had led a sheltered life.
This show went on for an hour. Her toys, his toys, their toys. When did sex become this much fun? God, I was jealous. I wanted to play like that too. Well? Well? Why couldn't I?
Thus began my search for the perfect toy. I scoured websites and watched this show when I couldn't sleep. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't bring myself to order one and have it delivered. What if the packaging was damaged and the mailman could see what it was? What if it ended up at the neighbor's house? And then, which one should I get -- battery operated or electric?
Samantha, on Sex in the City, swore by her rabbit. Well, if it was good enough for her....
The Christmas season came upon us, and I was doing some marathon shopping with my twenty-seven year old daughter. We were at our favorite mall, not hurrying, going in and out of all the stores.
We ended up at a popular novelty gift shop. Anything that was a tad off-color could be found here.
I was mindlessly looking up and down the aisles, when I spotted him. My heart started to race. He was gorgeous. He was firm, not too slender, about six inches long, pink and with pearls – my rabbit. I knew I had to have him.
But how could I do this? My daughter and I left the store and I asked where she wanted to go next. Thankfully, she wanted to go into a shop around the corner that I had no interest in going to. We agreed to meet at the food court in thirty minutes.
So picture this, a fifty-something year old grandmother waiting for her daughter to disappear around the corner, so I could sneak back into the shop. I got to the back of the store and waited for the aisle to clear. When I saw the chance, I quickly grabbed him off the rack. As I started to walk towards the checkout counter, I saw the clerks were two young girls.
I can't do this. I'll look ridiculous. I looked around and picked up a bachelorette party card and some gift wrap. That's it! It's a gag gift! Still feeling uneasy, I laid the items on the counter, with the rabbit on the bottom. I know I was totally red-faced.
"Do you need batteries for this vibe?"
Could she have asked the question any louder?
"Batteries," I giggled nervously. "I guess that would complete the gift. Hey, do you girls think this is an embarrassing enough gag gift?"
"Gag gift? Heck, I'd use it."
Everything paid for; I hid this bag inside another with other purchases I had already made. I walked around the corner to meet my daughter, now praying she would want to cut the shopping trip short.
When I got home, I was too excited to do anything. I removed my shiny pink rabbit from its box. I carefully studied the directions, washed it accordingly and let it sit on the counter to air dry. I could feel myself begin to grow wet.
That evening, I decided to treat myself. I took a glass of wine with me into the bathroom. I took a nice hot shower, shaved all over, applied lotion, perfumed myself, and put on a sexy black nightgown, as if preparing for a date. I turned on some soft music, lit the candles around my bedroom, and turned down the lights. I sat cross-legged in the middle of my bed – me, my battery-operated friend, and my bottle of K-Y warming oil.
I plumped the pillows and lay back, sipping my wine, and rubbing my breasts. My nipples hardened almost immediately. As I lay back a little more, my nightgown slid up, exposing my pussy to the cool air. My hand traveled slowly down my belly to my freshly shaved V. I moved slowly, sensuously, starting to make myself feel good.
Slipping my finger in the top of my slit, I began gentle circles around my clit. God this felt good – my breasts, my clit, and then sliding one finger deep inside. Mmmm...
