The Female Sexual Experience: Shared Sexual Histories and Experiences Volume 3, Part 2

Erin

What a revelation your website has been! I found it "surfing" the net for information about female sexual response and must say that it is the most honest and helpful sources of information that I have seen anywhere, either online or in print. Believe me I have read much on the subject and can only say that the majority of it rarely touches on the type of experience I had as a young adolescent and my reaction to it. I especially recommend the page, "The Mutidemsionality of Sexual Abuse," for other women (or indeed men) who may be confused about how they reacted to early experiences of being sexualized. Though I am not sure I agree with every aspect of the article, I applaud its bold departure from the orthodoxy of "victimology" literature dealing with childhood/adolescent sexual abuse, especially as it relates to women.

Let me explain, why I am here and why I am grateful for the information I've learned from others who have contributed. My experience happened right about the time I was between twelve and thirteen years old and from time to time it resurfaces more directly in my conscious mind.

I grew up in a sprawling suburban community of a large Southern city in the 1960s. My father was a minister in a mainline church which, though conservative, was not really fundamentalist, backward, or intolerant. I had a younger sister growing up and knew boys only at a distance, and yet from early on recall being fascinated by them in a way I now recognize as sexual interest.   I knew virtually nothing about sex aside from the broad outlines of its mechanics that I'd picked up from giggling girlfriends. I hadn't even had the kinds of "doctor-playing" experiences growing up that seem to be so universal from what I read here.

As I grew older, I became increasingly aware of my own body and its natural changes, but beyond the necessary conversations with my mother about hygiene when I experienced my first period at age 11, and a bra fitting exercise at the local department store, how the female body was supposed to respond to its sexual nature was something about which I was completely ignorant. By the time I was about twelve and a half I was fairly well developed, even more so than many of my friends, though just as clueless about my body as they were. Even "health" classes in those days mainly dealt with basic anatomy and its function and never touched on "sexuality" as anything other than a necessary biological process, like the actions of the endocrine system, or bowel movements.   Perhaps if I had bothered to ask, I might have been told (even from my skittish mother), but I really didn't know what, or how to ask, and so relied as we all did on the twittering whispers between other 12 and 13 year old girls at Friday night sleep overs Hence, like most of my peers in 1969, I was little prepared for launching into adult life at the height of the "sexual revolution."

Close to where we lived was a large community center with three pools and a dozen or more tennis courts. In the summers, we all lived at the pool, but until they opened on Memorial Day, my girlfriend Sarah and I basically hung out down at the tennis courts after school where there was a lot of sidewalk space for skating, meeting friends, or just sitting in the viewing stands and acting goofy. Sarah was already thirteen, and much more forward. She even bragged about the fact that she had actually made-out with a boy at church camp that previous summer, and was always commenting on who were the cutest guys. At the courts she would openly flirt with the older boys, most of whom ignored both her and me, who always hung in shadows of my more adventurous friend.

Anyway, sometime in late April we noticed these two boys who usually showed up at the courts everyday about 4:00 o'clock and played for a couple of hours. Sarah was interested in the taller one who had long straight dark hair cut in that Beatle-mania fashion of the era. I on the other hand was drawn to the shorter but more athletically built one who had longish brown wavy hair just covering his ears and collar. This was the time when boys were just beginning to wear their hair longer and his was not so shaggy and unkempt as most. Plus he had deep set blue eyes, and very prominent full lips, which was what I thought of as "dreamy." I developed and instant crush on him.

Usually, we'd watch them at a distance, but as it grew later we'd gravitate near their court and watch through the fence. After a couple of days, Sarah started making taunting comments just loud enough for them to hear but which they mostly ignored in the dismissive way older boys treat girls that age. As she grew bolder in her teasing, she eventually started to get the older boy's attention, who told us was a freshman at the state university. His younger friend, the center of my affection, we learned was still in his last year of high school nearby. Frankly, I found the older boy obnoxious because he would openly use curse words, or make rude and vulgar comments to us. Once when Sarah wanted to embarrass me she yelled out, "My friend thinks that curly-headed boy is real cute." Naturally, I was mortified. The older boy laughed and said loud enough for us to hear, "Well, I got some curly hair too, but I ain' t gonna show it to you." Sarah continued her banter with this boy and I found other things to occupy myself with until we both left soon afterward.

The first day next week the boys weren't at the courts, and the following day only the younger boy showed up to hit practice balls against the backstop on one of the far courts. Sarah couldn't resist and began her usual routine, which he simply ignored. When she asked him where his older friend was he coolly replied, "he's back at his school." It then occurred to me that he was just terribly shy.

Sarah lost interest and soon became bored and decided to leave for home early. I'd left my skates near the community building and after getting a drink of water from the fountain started off for home, taking the short cut through a large field of scrub brush and stunted pine trees. This large field was just beyond the courts and had been a source of endless childhood play for all the local kids, crisscrossed with dozens of trails, makeshift play forts, and numerous hideouts.

I'd walked through the field about half way home when as I came around a small bend in the path and was suddenly aware that my wavy-haired crush standing just off the trail about ten yards ahead with his back to me.   Instinctively, I stopped and watched him, curious as to what he was doing. Suddenly, I became aware that he was urinating in the bushes, and my face flushed powerfully. Perhaps I even gasped, but at any rate he must have become aware of someone's presence and turning his head slightly caught sight of me and, startled, embarrassed, he turned around. I caught just a glimpse of him zipping up his shorts.

"Are you spying me," he said angrily stepping toward me. Still stunned, my only reaction was to start crying, which seemed to alarm him even more. The next thing I knew he was standing over me trying to sssh me and calm me down. How I had ended up sitting on the ground I don't know; however, once I was aware that he wasn't really angry, I felt better and got to my feet with him helping me up. When he had me on my feet, I looked up at him, seeing him for the first time really close up, looking down at me with those gorgeous blue eyes. He assured me everything was all right and that he wasn't mad, even though I still had some stifled tears. I mostly remember just how warm and dizzy I felt, full so suddenly of all kinds of emotion, which seemed to just roll through me like waves.

Anyway, I composed myself and walked home with no other incident. He even accompanied me part of the way. The next day at the courts he was again alone, as was I, and I was aware that he was noticing me. I managed to leave at just the same time and met him again along the path, where we continued along chatting nicely. This pattern continued for several days though we gradually became more and more friendly in our conversation. As the days continued our parting conversations became longer and longer and more emotional charged. One day, he was talking and suddenly reached up and pulled a caterpillar out of my hair, causing me to squeal with excitement. The feel of his hands on my head and brushing against my cheek was electric. I knew I wanted to kiss him but did not, nor did he attempt to kiss me.

Two days later we were just at out point of departure, talking as we always had, when he did kiss me, deeply and powerfully. Though I'd never been kissed by a boy before, I went to it naturally. The feeling that went through my body was like nothing I had experienced, sexual in nature, I now understand, but to me entirely ignorant of what those feelings were, it just felt very good.

Finally, one evening we lingered perhaps even longer and soon the kisses were more passionate. I most recall him running his hand down over my bottom, pressing me to him. He then led me over to a hollow in some bushy area where we continued making-out, gradually becoming more and more overtly sexual. At no point do I remember feeling fear or reluctance, though I don't think I fully understood how charged the experience was or where it would lead. Without being too graphic, I would only say the encounter became fully sexual, though he never did penetrate me. I know that I wanted him too, but in my own ignorance (and I suppose his) full intercourse did not occur. Nonetheless, the stimulation he experienced did cause him to ejaculate, which he did in several long hot streams onto my stomach.

And that was it. Rolling off, he lay next to me panting for several minutes. Gradually, the realty of what I'd just done began to settle in but I was content for the time to just lay there and feel close to him. I was a riot of feelings and after a while started to cry softly. He sat up and holding me said in calming tones, "I am so sorry, so, so sorry. Please, I am sorry. I've never done anything like this. I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" Hence some of the confusion I fell today, because, no, I don't think I was sorry myself, even if I wasn't exactly happy with what I'd done. I do say with full certainty, however, that I know I had I liked it. Obviously, he had too. The evidence of his pleasure was all over me.

He helped me clean up with a towel he had in his athletic bag and was more tender with me than any other human being outside my family had been to me in my life to that time. But it was getting late and we straightened up ourselves and walked out of the field and to the very edge of my own neighborhood. He said very little and I was completely silent. As we departed, he kissed me on the top and back of my head and tenderly pulled some loose twigs out of my twisted hair.

I arrived home sure that my dark deed would be read on my face but everything at home was just as it always was. I arrived late and barely had time to freshen up a bit before dinner. Soon after eating my younger sister, scrunched up her nose and said me to my alarm, "You stink!" My mother glared at her, but nothing else was said, though she gave me that instructive glance that meant I needed to bathe before bed. After a long hot bath in which I scrubbed myself clean, I replayed the scene in the bushes in my mind a dozen times or more, with nothing more than, well, wonder. Frankly, I didn't even think about pregnancy, though I suppose that was a remote possibility. In the morning, I rose, dressed and went to school as though nothing had ever happened. That was a Friday and because it was now the weekend, the pattern of my life was such that I didn't get back to the courts until the next week, only to miss my mystery man who was no where to be seen. Sarah had returned but soon found other amusements in other boys to tease, and even though I kept cautiously looking for my blue-eyed dream, I never saw him again.

Gradually, the incident faded in my mind, and I never, not ever, told anyone about it. Over the next several months and years it frequently would return to me at night in my room alone in my bed and I began to replay it over and over again. With modifications and slight variations, it became the main accompaniment to masturbation, with which I experimented throughout my teenage years. I had often gently fondled myself prior to any of this but never consciously to full sexual arousal. Soon, however, using my experience as my covert nighttime fantasy, I was able to stimulate myself to orgasm. I did not masturbate that often thereafter (maybe once or twice a week), nor was I ever obsessive about it, or sex in general. Indeed, I managed to stay a "virgin" (in a technical sense, at least) until my marriage at age twenty while still in college.

I was married for twenty three years before my husband was murdered in a robbery gone bad in a liquor store near our home. I loved him very, very much, and was absolutely devastated by his loss. For several years after his death, I just shut down. Eventually, my youngest daughter encouraged me to seek out new friendships, including men, but my depression always kept me from becoming close to anyone.

A family friend recommended I enter therapy to deal with my grief and depression, which I only did reluctantly. My first therapist was an intense, and I think, very angry woman, who explored with me what she supposed were my many unresolved conflicts. When I confessed the incidents of that spring day from early adolescence, she reacted with such shock and alarm, that it scared me. She almost had me convinced that I had been viciously raped by this boy and that the trauma was such that it cast an awful shadow over my whole life, making me a cold and indifferent lover to my husband and a distant mother to my two children. As part of my therapy, she had me write angry letters to this now long departed man who had abused me, denouncing him (and by implication all other men), which I dutifully did, though I don't think I ever really bought into her perverse notions of "abuse" and its consequences.

Actually, I had a very good relationship with my husband and we had marvelous sex throughout our entire marriage. Comparing my experiences with the complaints I hear from my oldest daughter (who thinks herself very liberated), I know that her father and I enjoyed a sex life together much more active and satisfying than her anxious attempts to please my dull-witted son-in-law with whatever devices and techniques they explore. How sad. I would never, however, reveal any of this to her and, instead only listen silently.

I put up with that therapist as long as I could bear it, but finally left her for some peace. Nonetheless, those sessions awoke in me the memories of my youth and over the last two years I resumed masturbating, gradually reawakening my sexuality again. Though I have not yet ventured into a relationship with another man, perhaps I will someday. For now, I enjoy only self-loving, with fond memories of my husband and my wavy-haired lover of so long ago.

Late one night last summer I drove out to my old neighborhood, which is just across town from where I now live (about 45 minutes away). I found the community center and old stomping grounds of my youth, and even though the vacant field is now covered by a couple of hundred homes, I located the area where I recall I had my first and, in many ways, most powerful sexual experience. Sitting there in my car, alone, all the years between that late spring afternoon and now welled up in me and I was overcome by very powerful emotions-all good, sweet, and some ways sad.

I'll bet I cried for almost an hour.

Afterwards, I felt real peace and glowing warmth, and for the first time in my life, I did something I never thought I'd ever do. Looking out across the carefully manicured lawns of a couple of houses where I supposed I had had my long ago tryst, I masturbated in my car to the most intense orgasm, I think I have ever given myself. I am almost 50 years old, a grandmother, and what is that about?

My new therapist is much more forgiving. She tells me that I am free to make of that experience whatever I will, but that I must make it my own and not feel ashamed or guilty about it. Of course, I know there are scenes like the one I describe above that are vile and violent abuses of young girls as I was then, but I just don't see that in what happened to me. To whomever that offends, I am sorry. I know it was wrong and shouldn't have happened by all that is moral, legal, and ethical, but I don't blame that boy any more than myself. Why he never returned, I can't say. I'm glad he didn't, given what might have proceeded beyond that one occasion, and the havoc that might have created for me and my family. Perhaps he had taken his pleasure in me indifferently and moved on, or more likely I think, he was probably terrified by what had happened and what trouble it might have caused him. Who knows?

In some ways, I think the incident helped prepare me for my adult life as a woman. I learned early the power of sexuality (my own and that of others' who might have been attracted to me) and the necessity to contain it appropriately. Though I dated in high school, other than the occasional expected make-out sessions and some mild petting with a couple of boys, I was able to keep my sexuality where it belonged. I was never taken advantage of by any boy, and unlike many of my friends and contemporaries, I also avoided a lot of the consequences of sexual liberation as they called it in those days: unwanted pregnancy, abortion, STD's, and in the case of one friend a very real and traumatic rape after a night of bar hopping.

I also know that that one early experience takes nothing else from any other part of my life, especially my husband, the only true love of my life. Perhaps I will one day move beyond it, whatever hold it has, but for now, I recall it for the pleasure it was, and the door it opened for me into the great mystery of my sexual being, and how it now opens that for me again. Perhaps there were other doors that I might have opened but for this one, and yet I am happy now with where my life has taken me.

Charli

To start with I just wanted to say how free this site has made me with me sexuality! I was never able to tell my friends that I was not a virgin before I found this site! So thank you so much.

I lost my virginity when I was a month away from turning 14. I know it sounds too young and very slutty but I was ready. My first lover was 16 which makes it sound even worse!

Well basically it happened when I was on holiday in Australia, we had caught each others eye a few times and had flirted non-verbally (you know a smile and a nod of the head). I got turned on just by looking at him, he wasn't particularly 'hot' but I found him very sexy.

My family had gone out to see an old friend and I had made an excuse that I wasn't feeling well because I had a very nice flirt with the boy -(who I shall call Rob for now!) -that morning and I was very horny and truthfully wanted to relieve myself!

Because I hadn't gone with them I felt bad so I went down to the gift shop to buy them some chocolate or something. Luckily Rob was down their doing a similar thing for his family! So we got to talking and went to my room to watch a movie because we were both bored, I got under the covers and he followed. He held my hand and I turned towards him and he gave me the softest kiss I had ever felt.

We kissed for several minutes and became more passionate by the second. He got on top of me and slid his hand up my top, he started massaging my nipples which I found exhilarating and new. He then took off my top and unhooked my bra. He said I was beautiful and I was comfortable with the situation. (Which was odd because I had always been self conscious of my body) He removed his own top and held me close while he kissed my neck and nibbled my ears.

He put his hand up my skirt and pulled off my knickers, I felt safe but had never had a guy touch me before so I was nervous. My heart was pounding and I had no idea what he was going to do next. He slid one finger into my pussy slowly started licking my clit, he said that I tasted so sweet and I was very horny and started breathing faster and faster because I was so into what he was doing. He then asked me how far I wanted to go and I told him I was more than ready for anything.

He removed his pants and boxers and I saw his dick up in arousal before for me. He placed on a condom, which I was thankful for, and I was fascinated with his beautiful penis, he took my hand and placed it on his hard cock, he slowly moved my hand up and down and instinctively I placed it in my mouth he closed his eyes and moaned, I felt amazing.

After we were both very aroused and I had removed all of my clothes he looked at my body and again told me that I was beautiful and he loved what we were doing. I shared his feelings. He pulled his body closer to mine and I could feel his hard dick touching my stomach, he brought it to my pussy and because I was very wet his pushed it in painlessly and with ease and filled me with so much pleasure. He slowly pushed in and out and in and out and each time his and my groans were getting louder and more passionate. He started pounding into my body and the pleasure was immense. I could feel that I was going to come so I raised myself off the bed slightly and brought one leg up onto his shoulder to get more fucking pleasure. He asked me if I was near and he said he was too, I had my first screaming orgasm (I had to place a pillow over my mouth!!)

He slowed down and told me that at the same time I had come he had too, his satisfaction filled me to the brim. We were both breathing heavily and sweating. He removed his penis and lay next to me, we kissed and then showered together kissing the whole time.

This experience was perfect to me and I was so amazed with the pleasure, I am now 16 and have had sex only one other time. After I found this site I was able to tell my friends and have them accept me because even being 16 only a few other people had had sex in our grade.

Thank you so much and I just wanted to ask one thing- my ex boyfriend had a fetish with candles and carrots and loved placing them in my pussy and getting me off with them instead of his penis. I have found a lump just at my fingertips in my pussy, and have been too afraid to go to the doctor, any idea what it might be??

Thank you! love from Charli

Lawliet - Age 19

Well like most English girls I had sex education in year 5 (equivalent to 6th grade I think). All of that where-babies-come-from stuff was not really a big shock, after all, the big kids told us all about it when they had sex-ed last year. And not being ones to break tradition, we told all the lower years what happened between "mummies and daddies who love each other very much". So sex-ed was generally ignored as much as geography until..... secondary school. (Like junior high/ high school)

Then boys were interesting. They weren't gross and smelly anymore (Well, they were. But we didn't mind.)

I had examined my body in-front of (and above) a mirror a few times before, but only in a curious sort of way. I'd never really attributed my body to what I'd learned about "sex". Plus it didn't seem the boys were interested in me anyway. They always talked to the pretty girls with "boobs" (which, at age 19, I have finally grown)

When I was about 11 or 12 I had my first experimental experiences, play-wrestling with one of my older brothers or my friends for a little too long. Or playing kiss-chase.

I was 13 when I lost my virginity and found out that my fanny (as in vulva, non-British people) was made for so much more than baby-making. His name was Mike and he was 24. The first time was in the back of his car, it hurt like all hell, right the way up to my ribs. I limped for a week. I told my parents I fell off my bike.

When all of my peers finally found sex at about age 14-15, I wasn't as show-offy about it as they were. I didn't need to suck off Billy Andrews to prove myself. Funnily enough I'm part of the 38% of girls who HASN'T been pregnant yet.

Being 19, I know my experience may be limited. but I've found that there are three main types of sex: making love, sex, and fucking.

Making love is when you are..... well, making love. When it's an expression of how passionate you are about each other and how much you want to be with each other. It is a symbol of your love and commitment.

Sex is when you just have to fill a hormonal or biological need. Little emotion just doing it, using each other (not always unenjoyable). Just there because it is.

Now fucking is downright dirty. Hard, fast, strong, good, noisy. The kind where furniture gets broken. You both want it and you both love it.

If you're lucky you'll find a partner who can give you all three types of love.

Me? I'm still looking.

Anonymous - Age 17

I am 17 years old, well, to kind of sum things up, I always thought I was alone. When I was around five years old, I have memories of my brother trying to stick his "thingy" (five year old terminology for a penis) in my "hole". I always thought it was wrong. I still sometimes feel uneasy about it because I have no good memories from it.

I have been masturbating for years, probably since I was 7 years old. I thought I was the only one who was...experimenting with their own body. I hated it too. It seemed like I was doing such a naughty thing, but it felt so good. I guess the next sexual experience I would have would be with my cousin. She stayed with me for close to a year, in the same bedroom. This was around sixth grade. We started by wondering how it was to be kissed, and we would kiss each other through blankets, or finally just kiss each other. One day we were talking and the subject of sex came up. We wondered how other people would "do it" and would demonstrate with each other. I remember us rubbing our area's together and I almost had an orgasm with her. We haven't talked really since she left.

To this day I have only ever had one other partial sexual experience. That was over the Internet with a much older woman. She was "coaching me" per say..and teasing me. Telling me what to do. I remember she had me stick a cube of ice in my pussy, and oddly enough, even though it was extremely...shocking, it was one of the most intense orgasms I have ever gotten.

I feel so much better reading all the stories, and information on your site. It's helped me realize I am not alone. However, I still think I struggle with being open. I really would like to have a girlfriend, or boyfriend who I can be open, and honest with about my sexuality, and who I can have sex with. Which is also very difficult for me right now because I am struggling with religion and love. Anyway, for all those people out there with problems like mine, I hope you get as much out of this site as I did!

Susan

I am writing this message as a response to Joann:-. I, too, am a Christian. I have found it very difficult to maintain my relationship with my husband as I have desires to be with a woman. I have had this desire for a substantial period of time, but I struggle with it because of my Christian upbringing and what the Bible says about being homosexual. However, the Bible also reflects a man is to love and honor his wife, but I found myself in circumstances where I was abused by "Christian" men who "loved the Lord." At the time of my abuse, I questioned all of this, and still do. Unfortunately, I had a lot of hate toward men, especially Christian men.

To this date, I have not been with a woman but if the right one came along, I might. The majority of my desire has to do with the fact that I want to know what it is like. I hear it is wonderful because a woman knows what a woman wants. There is a lot of caressing involved, or foreplay, and (for the most part) it is not a "wham bam, thank you ma'am" activity. My husband and I have actually discussed this situation, and a part of me believes he would be okay with it. He doesn't see a relationship between two women as "cheating" as long as he is aware of it (he probably wants to watch!). This only makes my desires stronger, but I feel like I have to fight this because I am married, and I want to have a solid relationship with my husband. I must say our relationship has become stronger since I voiced my desires to him. He completely understands, and I don't think most men would.

I think if I had to do life all over again before I got married, I believe I may have sought out a woman just to find out what it is like. Unfortunately, I sought out men who just wanted one thing, and it seriously cost me my self-esteem and value as a human being.

Joann, all I can say is "keep the faith". It is good your friend still accepts you and you accept the boundaries she has put on your relationship. It is always important to keep God in the center of relationships, and I think you may be disappointed in yourself if you choose to engage in physical/sexual contact with your friend. I definitely question people who believe "homosexuality" is a choice. I do believe God allowed this type of behavior for a reason and although I do not know exactly what that is, I can only say from experiences with other family members (not sexually), they were "different" at a very, very young age (possibly birth, which studies are now reflecting it could be due to the mother having depression). My cousin always dressed in girls clothes and now he is very popular in the "drag" society. I also know somebody who struggled with being a homosexual for years and in the process, got married and had children to cover it up. I believe this only made it worse for her because she was denying who she had been her whole life. In addition, I have a close friend (I call her my sister) who has been a lesbian for many years, and it was only recently she came out of the "closet". Some of my family members find this to be very heinous, but because I have not been put on this earth to judge, lest ye be judged, it is not my place to judge this person. She is an absolutely beautiful person, and she deserves the same respect as we all do.

I say this, Joann, to encourage you. It seems you have a lot of strong feelings for your friend, and that is okay. Just always remember that you need to respect yourself and those you come in contact with. If I personally knew you, I would never judge you because that is just not who I am. Your poem really reflects what you would like from your friend. Does she know you wrote it? I also admire her for her tenacity and listening to what God regarding what she should do or not do. I am sure she struggles with it, too. And, in today's society, it is hard to make proper choices.

Thank you, Joann, for sharing your desires and wishes. I am sure it wasn't easy for you, but it sometimes helps to be able to put things on paper. I can assume you are not ashamed of your feelings, and that is good. I have had enough therapy to finally understand that feelings are neither good nor bad, they just are.

Andrea

My mother and father divorced when I was about five years old and I lived with my mother, who was a very eccentric and as it turned out sick woman. I think I always suffered from the loss of my dad and from a very young age was very curious about boys and sexual matters. My mother was a medical professional (nurse) who insisted upon clinical discussions about the female body with my sister and me. Otherwise she was cold and dismissive. My sister was a goody-two-shoes and I was somewhat of a rebellious brat in that area of growth.

When I turned eight my mom abruptly married a man she met through her job at a local hospital. I developed an immediate crush on him and competed (I now realize) for his attention with my mother...Their marriage was not very good as my mother soon fell victim to her frequent bouts of depression, which she addressed with drug abuse and self medication. As she spiraled out of control, I often found myself drawn to my step-dad who holed himself up in our family room on those nights when my mother angrily retired to her bedroom. I would often seek him out, and while my mother was upstairs, cold, angry, and unavailable I would curl up in his lap and snuggle. I was well aware of my body by this age (about nine) and would frequently rub my pussy at night alone in my bed. There was nothing all that sexual to me about it...It just felt...GOOD!

My step-dad never sought me out in improper ways, but gradually our secret "snuggle" times became more and more sensual....He would generally lie back in his easy chair while I straddle him...We would start off with just "tickles and giggles" seemingly innocent enough, but after several minutes of my rubbing up against him, I was grinding myself against him stimulating myself...He never overtly touched me or pulled down my clothes but once when he was wearing only a robe and boxer shorts, I was aware of his erection.....and once while I was humping him, I felt his hand slip up under the legging of my short pajama bottoms and touch my pussy....As I ground down more insistently, he got very uncomfortable and pushed me off and sent me to bed....

When I was 12, I was already masturbating by manually stimulating my clitoris almost to the point of orgasm and many of my fantasies involved my step-dad. I had seen by pure accident a soft-core erotic movie on cable TV that involved a man performing oral sex on a young woman and I often fantasized my step-dad licking me...Our secret armchair sessions had ended, distracted by more pressing worries of my mother's rapid deterioration and mental illness. That same year, she attempted suicide, a very serious attempt, and was in a coma for almost a month. While she was in the hospital, I went and lived with my grandma, though I frequently talked to my step-dad on the phone. One night I was talking to him on the phone in bed when I said to him abruptly, "I love you." He paused and responded very sweetly, "I love you too, baby." Though there was nothing untoward about it, when I got off the phone I played with my pussy for over an hour, prior to going to sleep.

Soon after my mom's release release from the hospital, I experienced a resurgence of all those old feelings for my step-dad, even though we did not continue with our armchair exercises....Nonetheless, I was growing and becoming much more aware of my sexuality and had no understanding of what to do with those feeling. I enjoyed primping myself in my mother's bathroom, using her large garden tub to bathe, and expansive vanity mirror to admire myself, naked but for a towel wrapped loosely around me.

On one occasion, I was putting up my hair when my step-dad knocked on the bathroom door wishing to use the toilet...I opened the door and was full aware of him looking at me as a man looks at a woman, at least one who is still steamy from a hot bath with little to cover her but a towel and gooseflesh. Once again, he did nothing overtly, and when my towel slipped (and it did innocently) he pretended not to look at my breasts.....Nonetheless, I think I felt for the first time my breasts responding to a sexual feeling. [Every so often, I will to this day find ways to expose my breasts to people in public accidentally (letting by bikini top fall or wearing a loose fitting Tee shirt with no bra) and find it a real turn-on to know someone sees my tits.]

He didn't touch me but pushed passed me into the toilet area of the bathroom suite where he left the door cracked enough so that I could see him urinate....It was the first and only time I ever saw his penis and I was mesmerized....Even as he was in the bathroom he chatted back to me as though nothing was out of the ordinary and when I couldn't quite catch something he said I put my face close to the door and looking in saw him standing in front of the toilet with a full erection. I had never imagined that a man's cock was so large and I had never seen anything like it before, starring at it for quite a while....I know he wanted me to see it and we looked at each other, each knowing what we were thinking.....I didn't open the door fully but took a small step backward and opened the towel so he could see my full body....At the time, I had just developed small but ample breasts with hard nipples and had a full thatch of pubic hair around my pussy....I am not sure what he saw but I sure wanted him to see it all and for him to pursue me....I know this seems sick to some but that is what I honestly felt....I also add that to this day, I have never felt more sexy about my body than I did showing it to him through that partially opened door.

Fortunately, he did not advance things any further and when I heard a car turn into the driveway, I knew my mother had returned from her therapy and I made a hasty retreat to my own room. Later that night I masturbated furiously and I can only imagine that my step-dad did as well. There afterwards, he seemed to avoid me, or rather to avoid opportunities for us to be together alone....One other time, I put on a very sheer nightgown and paraded in front of him sure that he could see my fully naked body with the light between us there in the den, but he pretended not to react.

But that was all that happened. Within three months he and my mother split after a very angry exchange over money...I was sorry he left but gradually replaced my adolescent desires for him with worries about my mother...Those were to no avail, as she finally was successful with suicide my last year of high school. I entered therapy soon afterward and revealed much of my guilty feelings about those feelings for my step-dad during my sessions with my counselor....Although she kept prompting me to make an accusation of sexual abuse against him, I never did, and to this day, I am unsure how to characterize what happened between us....

Not long after my mom's death, he wrote me a long letter in which he apologized that he had not been the man my mother needed and for any hurt that had caused me. Who knows what to make of that. I certainly have no feelings for him today and I understand that he has since married and is very happy.

I am a grown woman now, 28, sexually active, and not at all ambivalent about those experiences....They remain very pleasant memories for me, and when I masturbate these days (which happens about three to four times a week), I replay those scenes and others I have invented in my mind. I even paused at one point writing this to masturbate while I read back through my remarks. I sometimes worry that I have warped this part of my sexual being but for now enjoy it without regrets.

If anyone should have advice, I'd be glad to hear it, but I don't think it likely I will change my feelings now.