rel="nofollow" href="#litres_trial_promo">CHAPTER 14: Real Masturbation Technique as Told by Clitical.com Visitors
Female masturbation, self-love, self-pleasure – call it what you will. For most women masturbation is often their first exploration into the wonderful, but sometimes seemingly daunting world of sexuality. Personally, I can't think of a better place to start than by having sex with yourself – can you?
Like many women, my first hurdle, when it came to masturbation, was learning it was okay to touch myself. I recall reasoning that it was my own body and belonged to no one except myself. That said, I went through the pangs of wondering if I would be condemned for practising, well, you know, 'that' kind of touching. That word, which was rarely, if ever, uttered in my, and, I suspect, most homes across the world. Yes, that word! Masturbation!
I grew up in a time when masturbation was rarely mentioned in the media and was definitely something that you never told anyone you had tried. Even your closest friend, for the most part, was off limits, because they might just tell someone else. I recall the stress of keeping that secret so well – and I'm about to approach fifty this year. The truth was, like many teens, once I discovered that touching my private parts made me feel deliciously good, it was as though I never wanted to stop. I devised secret ways to touch myself. I spent countless hours in my bedroom, just discovering the pleasure that my own body was capable of producing and yet that pleasure would often be tinged with guilt. Guilt that somehow what I was doing was, in fact, inherently wrong, but no one ever really took the time to tell me why it was so wrong. After all, it wasn't as if anyone ever took me aside and said, ‘If you touch yourself you are going to hell’, but still, I felt that guilt.
In some ways I wish that guilt had never existed and, to be honest, I hope that this book will help you put that guilt aside so you can simply enjoy what is, after all, a safe and wonderful teaching aid when it comes to sexuality: masturbation.
Society, for the most part, has come to realize, that self-love is probably the safest form of sexual expression there is. It's also a wonderful learning tool and by learning what turns us on, and in some cases turn us off, we are not only better individuals but we, as females, make in many cases much better partners and lovers.
I don't consider myself an expert when it comes to the art of self-pleasure, and I don't aspire to be. I can tell you I am a life-long masturbator and glad to be able to call myself that, hoping to be able to practice until I am well into my old, old age.
Over the years, I have come to think of masturbation as an ever-evolving form of sexuality, and there is no one technique that is guaranteed to bring you the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the infamous orgasm. I'm not sure how I managed to achieve my first orgasm at the age of 15. I was just playing around with my new-found toy (my body) and it happened, but once it had happened, I wanted it to happen again and again. Maybe if I had known what I had experienced back then it might have helped. It might also have helped had I thought about taking note of what I was touching, when and where, but that has always been the most wonderful part of the entire masturbation experience for me: not quite knowing why, when, or where the next orgasm was going to come. The mechanism that caused me to orgasm was just part of the bigger picture and I developed something of a lust for the answer to the question why. Why does this feel so good? Then came the how, as in how can I make this feel even better, followed by the when and where would be the best time to do this, in order to make it better? Could it even get any better?
So I set off on a quest, which at that time seemed to be of epic proportions, to find the answer to those questions. That was when I discovered that this was to be no easy task. No one talked about masturbation back then – it was a dark secret, a sin to be hidden away at all costs, because even though you could talk about what you did with your partner/boyfriend last Saturday night, talking about what you did to yourself, amongst even your closest girlfriends, was akin to admitting you were less of a person because you didn't have, or couldn't get, a boyfriend. In other words, you were the biggest loser on the block. Sex with yourself must be second-rate sex, after all, which to me, never did make any sense. But it was, and still is in many cases to this day, the accepted norm when we talk about solo sex.
Back then there was no Internet, no real sex-toy boutiques, or at least not the type that most women would ever be seen outside, let alone leaving, lest you were spied by the local neighborhood noses, or, worse still, your so-called friends. Like many women of the time, I got my sexual information from the copies of the Penthouse that my dad had stashed beneath the clothes in his closet. Sex education at schools was basic, to say the least, and the only thing I really learned from those lessons was that sex was embarrassing and something to be made fun of. I never felt that way about solo or partnered sex, though. How could something that made me feel this good be so bad, after all?
With the advent of the Internet and the fact that I could communicate with the entire universe and beyond, it became easier to learn about sex, yet somehow it always felt as though solo sex was partnered sex's ugly sister. You know – that one member of the family who is always at weddings and funerals but sits in the corner because no one from the family really wants them there. I began to question how this could be so. How on earth could that be wrong when you are simply loving yourself? At the same time, women were being taught that we could do, or have, anything we wanted. We had the right to demand orgasms from our partners, it was our birthright and if they couldn't give us one as prescribed by the pages of Cosmopolitan, then he didn't deserve us.
As my quest for answers continued, I became almost more confused. Why was partnered sex the hallowed ground? Was there no place in sexuality for solo sex other than as the ugly sister? I'd always had that strange tinge of guilt that came after an often mammoth session of self-loving, but, darn, if it felt this good how on earth could it be bad?
Anyway, I discovered the Internet, but more than that, I discovered erotic writing. I found a way to channel my own guilt at enjoying sex, and especially solo sex, so much, into my characters. As I wrote more and posted them onto the Net I began to form the idea of a website: a site where women could feel safe asking questions about sex, love, and everything in between, and so could their partners. In the year 2000, thanks to a partnership with Art, the wonderful webmaster over at EroticStories.com, that dream became a reality. As so often happens in life, my love of solo sex and my search for answers to my quest became something that was ever more prominent on our new website: Clitical.com
Over the years Clitical has become a labor of love, some might say a labor of self- love. As time went by, I realized that self-love encompasses so much more than a simple technique. It's way more than just a means to an end. Self-pleasure is about learning to love your sexual self. It's a safe form of sexual expression, with a few exceptions, and it can take your partnered sex to a whole new level if you open your mind.
As Clitical has grown it has seen many redesigns, but the core of the site remains the same: a place
