(author’s note : “Fingering” in this context is translated from the Dutch slang “vingeren”, which, for a long time, was the word teens used for masturbation. At least in my days. Carry on.)
Do you remember when you first started masturbating?
You do? Good. Now, do you remember what you thought about masturbation before you actually bit the bullet and had a fondle? Were your thoughts clouded by the opinions of your peers? Were you curious? Or were you resisting at all costs? Maybe you were too young to remember it now, even.
The reason I bring this up is because I was recently reminded of something that happened when I was 11 years old. I’m sure I was vaguely aware of masturbation before that (at least, I think I was) but this experience engrained my opinion of it in my mind for many years to come. And it did it quite unconsciously so.
When I was 11, I was in hospital for observation. It’s a long story, but it basically boiled down to me being a bit “different” in school, and you know how people like to analyse things wot are different. Anyway.
I was in the youth observation group, together with several bordering-on-the-edge-of-teens who had been through way worse than I had in their lives. One of the girls I shared my room with had been smoking since she was 9. I think. None of them really liked me, which was excellent news because I really didn’t like them either.
Two things happened around the same time. One of which I will gladly elaborate on in a future post. The second thing that happened was that I got a first-hand explanation on the concept of “fingering”.
“You know the girl who was here before you?” said Smokey one day.
“She fingered on that bed, y’know.”
“Yeah, she fingered on that bed. And now you’re lying on that bed. Hehe. Gross.”
Of course, this isn’t verbatim because fuck knows if I remember any conversation from eleven years ago. But yeah. Fingering. I had no idea what it was, but apparently it was Not Done. It was gross and unclean, and even though she didn’t say as much as that, it was all she needed to say for me to be ruined for a good couple of years.
As long-time readers of this blog might know, I only started masturbating at age 18. The aforementioned incident was just one of many things that lead to me being such a late-bloomer, including friends telling me I was a pussy for not masturbating. I wanted to tell them that I just wasn’t that interested in it, that I wasn’t comfortable with it and, most of all, I had no fucking clue how to do it.
(Because, at the end of the day, no-one really tells you how to…)
But time passes, experience happens and here I sit, typing this post, an experienced and devoted masturbatrix. Yes, it’s totally a word. It means being fucking excellent at masturbating. Masturbating LIKE A BOSS.
Having a partner has only enriched my masturbatory experiences. I’m sure you’ve read me preaching to the choir about how I love mutual masturbation, and I bloody well do. But sometimes, a little solo time doesn’t hurt. And if you have a partner who feels the same way about it, then huzzah to you!
Masturbation is not icky. “Fingering” is… well, it’s not really a proper word for it, really. Call it what it is. A Good Fucking Time.