Well bollocks, I was writing for the previous question so here it is:
Some of my earliest memories are of playing with myself. There was nothing sexual about it, just a wonder at how my frontside worked. No one diddled me or showed me how. I simply discovered one day that if I twiddled it around things felt wonderful, my nipples stood on end and my crotch felt like a thousand angels congregated on my landing strip and made music emanate from my crotch.

At 10 years old my sexuality had been blossoming for at least a year. When we moved house I found a magazine full of naked people in the loft and, for some reason, it made me feel funny even though I'd only thought about boys in an immature way like that before. Subsequently, barely-clothed Baywatch folk made my body squirm in a way I'd never felt before, some kind of tingly invader to my hips. I knew there was something more to be found than this profound shiver that ran through my soul every time I thought about intimacy.

My best friend Hannah showed me some of her dad's porn. It was complete rubbish to me. One image that sticks is a closeup of a construction worker in a digger ploughing away at a vagina. He had his way with the her but she appeared to have no real enjoyment of the situation. I came away from the evening unsatisfied and confused.

Later, in my excursions across the street and into the woods, my boy friends and I came across discarded porn magazines on no less than three occasions. I was 10, 11, 12 by now. On each occasion I'd look at them, becoming more aroused each time but with no idea what was going on beyond the vague and painful lessons on sex I got in school to draw from. Then I'd discard them, knowing that looking was for some reason wrong but with no clear understanding of why.

When I was twelve, we moved to a new town a couple of hours drive from our old one. In our new town I was painfully shy with absolutely no idea how to interact with other people, my age or otherwise. I learned early that things were less painful if I just shut up, kept my head down and tried not to attract attention. This mostly worked.

A friend of mine, Hayley, took me out to her parents detached garage one afternoon and showed me her dad's porn collection. This is the first time I remember experiencing an identifiable lust hit. Something about those naked people caused a powerful reaction in me. More powerful than anything I'd ever experienced before.

I couldn't stop thinking about all those naked people in the magazines, all that wonderful cock and sexual desire published in technicolour for our satisfaction. I decided to mount a midnight expedition to Hayley's garage, broke in and stole her dad's magazines. It was at about this same time that I became aware of just what all those clandestine conversations had been about. Boys, porn, masturbation and every kind of sexual reference you could think of. It all locked into place for me.

Once I'd acquired this basic gallery of pornography I was confused. Visually things seemed obvious but I couldn't imagine sharing myself with someone else that way. I embarked on a quest to find out what sex was all about. I asked all my girlfriends what they knew about sex, tried to dig out the truth from the hundreds of sexual lies that float around during our teens. As much as everyone seemed to know, none of it seemed realistic or romatic, and my early-teen mind couldn't cope with the explosion of taboo and dirty thoughts that chats with my peer groups produced.

It was a wonderfully sunny day when I finally succumbed to the big "O". After looking through my dad's collection, I read in "All Color Swedish Erotica 1987/4" that vibrations encourage orgasms. I spent a year listening to his Remington razor zizz away in the bathroom in the mornings before I realised that it vibrated. I borrowed it while he was at work that summer's day, sweaty and horny in my long white dress. I went up to my room and opened both the window and the skylight, it was so hot. I plugged the electric razor in and pushed the teddy-bears off to make it cooler. I lay back on my bed, hitched my skirt up and turned the razor on, pressing it gently on my sex.

It felt amazing. Every which way I moved, it made everything tingle and buzz and shout and distract and build. I pushed my back up and my hips spread naturally and it all started to feel wonderful. I lifted my legs up over my shoulders, opening myself to this wonderful new feeling. I revelled in the feeling of being so open, so bare to the world, totally available to anyone and anything that wanted to fuck me. I kept at it, pushed, rubbed, buzzed up and down and across and around until things started to go pink, an earthquake shook my room and the whole world took on new meaning as I shot stream after stream of sticky white spunk all over my face.
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Thu 18 Jul 2013, 16:24, 1 reply)

You know
if only you had told me, I would have been glad to help you. All those questions and I had all the answers.

I don't know which QOTW you were replying to, but thanks anyway.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Thu 18 Jul 2013, 19:00, closed)