Confessions

“practicing” how to kiss, first on pillows, then using our tongues. My best friend, Shawn, was a year old than I was, and her mother was divorced and had some interesting things for us to explore in her bedroom. The first was a huge illustrated copy of the “Joy of Sex.” We read about how to touch ourselves, how to suck a cock. We lay on the bed together, flipping pages, our faces burning, our hearts racing, our sweet pussies aching.

After a few times of doing this, Shawn decided to show me what was in her mother’s top drawer. I hadn’t seen one yet, although I would later discover my mother’s, too. It was the standard issue white vibrator, circa 1970-something, the kind that took two D-or was it C? — batteries and got incredibly hot after it had been turned on a while. That first time, I just watched her. Shawn was absolutely shameless about her body and her desires. She pulled her shorts and panties down to her knees — it was the middle of summer — and spread her legs wide. The hair between her legs was dark and thick, and the inside of her pussy was shockingly pink as she spread her lips and began to rub her clit with the humming end of the vibrator.

She watched me watching her through half-closed eyes for a while, until her hips starting moving all by themselves, and her eyes finally closed, and I might as well have not even been there for all the attention she paid me. She was completely lost in the sensation, and I cupped my own pussy over the satin of my shorts, pressing hard against the ache as I watched her breasts rise and fall, her nipples harden under her t-shirt. It didn’t take her long to get off. She made these high, squeaky noises just before she was going to come, and then her whole body trembled with it, her back arching, her face flushing, her soft moans growing louder. We were both breathless when she was done, and then she handed the vibrator to me, still wet with her juices, and said, “Your turn.”

I felt shy, embarrassed, but my whole crotch was on fire, and the hum of the vibrator in my hands drove me on. I had to know if it felt as good as it looked like it did.

So I slid my shorts down over my hips and spread my legs, closing my eyes so I wouldn’t see her watching me. The first touch of the vibrator to my clit made me cry out in surprise and my eyes opened wide. Shawn smiled and nodded. “I know. Keep going.” I did.

Oh, god, I did. The delicious buzz against my young, tender clit drove me wild and I rubbed and rubbed the tip against that sweet nub. It was still slick from Shawn’s pussy and growing wetter as I worked it through my wet slit.

“Oh god, Shawnie, oh my god it’s so good. I can’t stand it. I can’t…”

“Come on,” she whispered, and I saw her through half-closed eyed, rubbing herself again as she watched me, her t-shirt up over her breasts now, her nipples poking straight out. “That’s it, come on, come on.” I couldn’t hold out anymore, although I wanted it to last forever. My hips pressed up as I came, my legs spreading wide, wider.

My climax shook me, the bed, Shawn, too, her fingers buried in the thick dark hair between her legs, working hard and fast as she rubbed herself as she watched me, both of us panting and crying out as we came.

Embarrassed now, I rolled to my belly and turned off the vibrator, pushing it away from me on the bed, as if it were possessed — or had it possessed me? Shawn collapsed next to me, breathing hard, her eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile on her face. We lay like that for a long time before we got up, got dressed, and went downstairs to get something to eat. We didn’t talk about it then. We didn’t even talk about it later, really. But we didn’t stop. It might have been the first time we used her mother’s vibrator together… but it was far from the last.

Confessions: Separated

I was separated from my first husband for about nine months in our fifth year of marriage. It's a long story, but suffice to say we were living in his parents' basement at the time, he was failing college classes left and right, and we had two small children to take care of. I graduated college that year and moved out. Took the kids with me and got a job. I was done waiting for him to grow up. I thought our marriage was over. We ended up back together for another three years… but I didn't know it was going to turn out that way at the time.

When I got married, other men ceased to exist. I can honestly say I didn't even think about sex with other men. When I fall in love, I fall pretty completely. After we were separated, though, the whole world of men suddenly opened up to me again. They were noticing me-not that they'd ever really stopped, but more importantly, I was noticing them. For a while, I was staying with a friend, and I happened to notice her ex-fiance, Rob.