My fingers moved faster and faster until the familiar feeling of guilt abruptly settled on me. I wanted to stop but Leah had told me lots of people had mental barriers that prevented them from reaching orgasm. She told me that my only option was to break through the wall and keep on going towards the other side. I obliged.
I pushed my mum’s disapproving voice aside and forced my mind to imagine a tanned Justin Timberlake on top of me. I bit my lip in excitement and all feelings of guilt faded away. I concentrated entirely on the currents of pleasure zooming through my body. I rubbed faster and faster, my breath quickening. I moved my fingers as fast as they could go while my entire body tensed up and I clenched my toes.
Part of me wanted to stop but I forced myself to keep going. Suddenly my entire body spasmed and a wave of pleasure rushed through me. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. Every cell in my body was buzzing and I felt a sense of serene joy. This was bliss. Euphoria. Ohmigod, I’d just had my first orgasm.
My fingers felt damp, still wedged in between my wet lips. I took them out and as I opened my legs, I felt a thick liquid slide out and drop gently onto my mattress.
I sat up straight, all thoughts of serenity gone as quickly as they had come, and bent over to look at it. It looked a bit like discharge but it was see-through and had made a small stain on my bed.
Was it just the watery stuff that appeared every time I rubbed myself there or had I actually just come? I inspected it a bit closer and decided it was definitely the come Leah said women make. I was one of the 70 percent of women who could come.
I felt my cheeks burn with pride. I had just gone from stage one to ten on my personal journey of self-discovery and I was no longer a child. I was a teenager.
After that, I masturbated once a day for years. I was the female equivalent of those teenage boys who drew penises all over their lunch boxes. It was only as I got older and realized that all my friends were getting their boyfriends to do it for them that I gradually stopped masturbating so often. Every time I did it, it just reminded me of how alone I was.
But maybe now it was time to get back into it. I was so good at it—it seemed like a waste of a talent. Besides, I had a lot of spare time now. I was still writing the vlog, but I didn’t need to do any more columns until uni began again. Lara still wasn’t speaking to me, and even though Jack had suggested weekend plans, he had postponed them because of a “family thing.” I desperately needed something to distract me. Masturbating was ideal, but I needed to take it one step further and the only place to do that was in a Hoxton side street.
Which is why I was standing in Sh!—Europe’s first women-only sex shop, according to Google—staring speechlessly at a display of sex toys taking up eight racks that reached the ceiling.
I had no idea where to begin but I couldn’t wait to start. I browsed the shelves, trying to look as though I was entitled to be there and spent most of my Saturdays checking out sex toys. I stared in horror at the cock rings and other things you needed a partner for, and looked in fascination at the vibrators. They looked terrifying. There were blue glittery ones covered in little lumps and pink gel ones that rotated and had tiny “rabbit” ears that stroked the clitoris while you penetrated yourself. Some were even waterproof.
A shop assistant walked over to me and I took deep breaths, preparing myself for her inevitable questions. “Hiya, are you looking for anything in particular?”
“I’m just browsing for now, thanks,” I said with a tiny forced smile, praying she would go away.
“Okay. Are you looking for something to use with a partner or for masturbation?”
“Um, just masturbation, really,” I said nonchalantly, focusing all my energy on trying not to blush.
“The best ones are the rabbits, which I’m sure you’ve heard about,” she explained, as she gestured towards the plastic monstrosities. “These are the best because they give you dual pleasure. This part goes in so it can hit your G-spot while the ears stimulate the clitoris. These are the bestsellers. I really recommend them—they’re amazing. What do you think?”
“Okay,” I said evenly, trying to think of a subtle way to explain that I did not want to lose my virginity to a pink sparkly piece of plastic called a rabbit. “Do you have anything that just stimulates the clitoris? What about these?” I pointed towards a display of tiny vibrators that looked like they would fit on a key ring.
“Oh, yes. So those are bullets. You can use them on the clitoris, but if you’re going to get those, I would just get a rabbit because they do that and penetrate at the same time. So it’s maximum pleasure. The bullets aren’t bad, though.”