Probing

During the intervening six months, I was at the hairdressers reading Cosmo. There was this article that caught my eye about a girl who enjoyed having her clit stimulated by... wait for it...

... an electric toothbrush!

She went on and on about how good it felt having it touch her through her pants or with the barrier of a flannel and I must admit the whole concept made me rather excited.

Could this be it? The answer to my whole 'thing' about not wanting to actually touch myself with my fingers?

But I couldn't get my head around it. The whole idea was anathema. It was a toothbrush for god's sake. I had to put it in my mouth and brush my teeth afterwards. Nonononononononoono!!!!

However, the article did pique in me a frisson of excitement about that other item that remained hidden in the hatbox, under the clothes, in the cupboard, behind the chest of drawers. I mean it wouldn't hurt to just have a peak at it... would it?

Since my kids were at school and I didn't work, I was alone in the house for a large part of the day. One afternoon, my curiosity got the better of me and I fetched it from the depths of its secret hiding place. After a glass of wine for some courage, I breached the plastic of its packaging and got it out onto the bed. It was sooooo Pink! And sooooo Plasticy looking. You can hear me turning my nose up as we speak can't you! But, nothing ventured, nothing gained, so I popped in the batteries and switched the two switches. The thing virtually took off in my hand, all flailing pink cock and frantically waggling ears. I was a bit shocked to be honest. I don't know quite what I expected, but it wasn't that!

But this was no good, I couldn't be beaten at the first hurdle. I had to at least try! So I unclothed the bottom half of my body and set about trying to insert part of the cock bit so that the ears could go against my clit. It was hopeless. I can hear you all shouting 'What about the lube?' But back then, I was what I have now discovered is 'resolutely vanilla'. I didn't have a clue about how this sort of thing should all be done.

As an aside, when I performed the same service for an extremely innocent 'friend of a certain age' that my sister had performed for me, i.e. purchased her a rabbit, I made sure to include a nice bottle of lube and a verbal set of instructions. Needless to say, her first experience was infinitely more rewarding and she has thanked me on countless occasions since.

Looking back, I was so naive, so clueless, it is hardly surprising that the whole first attempt was a complete failure. It was doomed from the getgo and saw the thing discarded, cleaned and returned to its box, which in turn was placed back in the hatbox and despatched to its secret hiding place under the clothes in the depths of the eaves cupboard behind the chest of drawers. Phewwwwww! Never to be thought of again!!!!

A couple of weeks later, I had a very strange experience! I was signing people in at a class I helped out with, when I looked up into a pair of eyes that caused the whole world to stop turning and had the blood rushing in my ears. It was such a shock! I had never had such a perturbing encounter with a man. He was a new student, considerably younger than me and I had to inwardly beat myself about the head for being such a stupid idiot, but The Man sure had the ability to make me hot under the collar. He wasn't particularly good looking but there was just something about his eyes that made me melt. Maybe it was my age and the old hormones were starting to play up but feelings which I had resolutely kept contained and under control for some years suddenly started going haywire.

I kept thinking about the toothbrush article and, eventually, the curiosity was just too much. One morning, when the Husband, had taken the kids off to some activity, I was in the bathroom about to take a shower when my mind led me somewhere entirely different. The Man was in my thoughts causing havoc in my nether regions. I needed to do something. I needed to touch it but the revulsion evinced by the thought of using my fingers was going to be hard to overcome. The electric toothbrush was primed on the shelf. It drew my attention, it consumed my mind and before I knew what I was doing, I was leaning against the bathroom wall with the buzzing device pressed to my clit through my dressing gown. The shock as the vibration made contact through the fabric made me stretch upwards and away from it but then the waves started to engulf me. I could feel the warmth spreading from that tickly pressure, radiating outwards all the way to the tips of my fingers and the stubs of my toes, culminating in a soft buzzing in my head as that feeling I used to get when I clamped my legs tight together built and multiplied over and over until, mouth open and gasping, I was doubled over with the exquisite sensations rippling through me. And that's when it happened... the sudden gush of water from between my legs and the horrendous shame that I just might have peed myself.

STOP LAUGHING!!!!

I was an innocent then, remember. I didn't know that that sort of thing could happen. I hadn't heard about squirters and gushers. I thought an orgasm was that screaming display that Meg Ryan did in When Harry Met Sally and that was the extent of it. Obviously, I knew that the vagina and clitoris lubricate when they are excited but I didn't realise the exact glorious mechanics of the full female orgasm.

I'm actually quite embarrassed about that last sentence. I was 43 years old, had had two children and, prior to their conception, what I believed to be a completely fulfilling sex life. I loved my husband and he knew where the clitoris was and so I had had feelings that had made me cry out with pleasure which I assumed were orgasms. But they were nothing like this... nothing at all like this!

I was reduced to sniffing the carpet to ascertain that it wasn't actually pee that had run down my legs but some other colourless and, to all intents and purposes, virtually odourless liquid. I realised that further investigation and some re-education was necessary... but I wasn't sure who to ask or where to look and I certainly wasn't going to leave anything in the 'history' section of the computer that my husband might find. It was clearly going to be a long journey from my current state of complete innocence to even a modicum of awareness of what it truly means to be a woman.

But this time I was not to be deterred. I had tasted the forbidden fruit, the tiniest little mouthful and I wanted more... much more!


Copyright: having my cake