The First Time I Masturbated

The first time I saw Roberto's bird, I couldn't believe my eyes.

"It can't be that big, it's a

montage," I told myself. 

But inside me, as a hand slowly slipped between my legs, I very much hoped that this piece of meat was real. 

Not that I hadn't seen any peas, it had been a while since I had passed the "enta" and some birds in my hands (and in my undergrowth) had passed, but this one, Roberto's, was a nice cock " over size ", at least from the photo! 

But for the present story to have a greater meaning, let's take a few steps back, a dip in the past, in my past. 

I don't remember exactly the first time I had sex and even less the first time I masturbated, that I explored my most intimate place, maybe I was thirteen, or maybe fourteen. 

What is indelible in my head, however, are the looks that my peers gave me when I was just a teenager. 

My physique, unlike my peers, developed quite quickly. I was not among the tallest, I remember this well, but certainly I was the one who developed breasts first of all. 

On the beach everyone was looking at me and before my mother forced me to put on a bra, even the adults were stealthily watching me.

I was still naive for my age and if you consider that we are talking about the 90s, when innocence still existed in girls (not like those of today who are already half sluts) and in boys, you will understand that seeing tits, too. if very young, it aroused interest and curiosity!

I remember that on the beach I was always the most sought after to take walks along the promenade, to go for a swim ... the boys competed to be with me or invite me to play, anything to be with me and with any excuse to touch me my boobs. 

Not that there was anything to touch, but for some little boys still virgin, two coconuts on a girl's chest were still a great pastime. 

A pastime that, as I said, ended soon, when my two coconuts became two tits worthy of being called such (at fourteen I already boasted a big second) and when the looks of older people became insistent, I realized that suggestion from my mother that it was time to cover them.

As I have already said, I don't remember well when I consciously approached sex, but I can tell you a few episodes about my first masturbations, leaving you the placement of the same in the time line of my stories (and those of Roberto).

I was twelve years old, but a whore spirit and a tiny fresh hole still unexplored even by me. 

That evening, one evening in the late summer of September, an older friend of mine, Elisabetta, who was fourteen years old, told me:
«Have you ever masturbated Mara? Have they ever licked your cunt? "
"No ... no!" she timidly replied "that is .... every now and then I masturbate ... I put a finger there inside of her and I finger her a little!" I continued then.
"Do you want to feel what it feels like when someone licks your whole lot?" my friend asked again.

"Yes ... sure, I want to try," I replied.
We went to the kitchen, Elisabetta opened the refrigerator and took some citriols and bananas. 

Then we went back to her room, locked the door and slowly approaching me with a smile from someone who knows her stuff, she took me, took off my red and black striped skirt, and the thong (which I still wear as a garment today intimate) and then opened my legs. 

She began to lick a banana softly and then after a few seconds switched to licking my pussy.

"Now, little girl, I'll make you a woman ... I want to deflower you," Elisabetta said as she went from a banana lick to a pussy lick, mine.

So after making me wet all of her (she knew how to do it with her tongue) she put the banana in my pussy, first slowly, then faster and faster. I remember my legs soon started shaking followed by several spasms of my young pussy. 

She then she moved on to lick the citriol and after having wet it well, she introduced it too in my young now soaked hole. 

She played with my cunt for I don't know how long, putting that citriol in and out several times from my hole, she stopped only when exhausted and dripping with pleasure, I did not escape a cry of pleasure while my young legs bending forced me to sit down. land.

From that day on I realized that solitary pleasure is sometimes underestimated and when Roberto is out for weeks due to work, I continue to masturbate. 

I state that I am not a happy supporter of masturbation, but I believe that in the absence of straight "resources", a fingering is better than paid sex. 

On this I Roberto think the same way. We like sex, to give us pleasure, but often our work activities force us to stay away from each other for a while, and then masturbation stops our mutual absences under the covers. 

We are sure that they all do it when their better half is absent, perhaps in the shower, but we admit it without problems.

Also because, after careful consideration, I was the first to come to the conclusion that masturbation (fingering or wanking) is a way of giving oneself unmatched pleasure. 

She is the faithful companion who never betrays us, the one who knows how to console us even in moments of black desperation, when no one is willing to have sex, she is there who comes (in every sense) to your rescue, she who does not tell us never say no, she with whom we can vent the tension, she who is always available towards us!

I like masturbation, as I like masturbating and I confess that I have never found a person capable of making me one with the same skill and wealth that distinguishes my artist's hands. 

If my hands are not between my legs, either you go too fast or you go too slow. 

They masturbated me many times in my life (I just got over the "door") but it was never the same, because the action was also dependent on another person. 

Sure, I've had great orgasms too, but it's never the same. Pure personal satisfaction, this is touching, this is fingering, masturbating.

Never having to be grateful to someone in the end, never having to ask for it, always having it available, make it unique in the world. 

Masturbation does not think, does not speak, does not feel and is never pissed off, it only does what it exists for: giving physical pleasure!

What about pussy licking?
Great, but it is not the same thing as it is necessary to have the work of another person, as with Elizabeth.
What about sexual intercourse?
It's not part of this story, and even if real sex doesn't fight, we'll pick it up later.

Now I would not want to be misunderstood or create a paradox after writing what you have just read, but really nothing and nobody can compete with the beloved cricket. 

You are there, perhaps on the sofa, soft music in the background, completely naked. You start relaxing, massaging your breasts, then slowly letting your hand descend to your lower parts. 

You touch yourself, you caress yourself, let your pussy slowly get wet, let it get you soaking wet, then come back up, play with my huge breasts. 

Sometimes I feel like a circus artist, when I grab one of my breasts I try to pull it on her and suck it myself. 

I like it, because I take my time, sometimes I squeeze them so tightly and suck them with such vigor that I often feed on my own nectar that comes out of my nipples. 

I love being with myself, always, both in the "lean" moments and in the periods when I have a friend with whom I have sex, even if not as much as I would like. 

That's why I touch myself, I masturbate. I can not help but have sex, to fuck, even every day and when this is not possible for the above reasons, here I resort to auto-eroticism. 

I love having sex and if the person with whom I do it is also the center of my feelings, the roof of sensations grows uncontrollably. 

How could anyone live forever without love? Impossible some would say. I say how one could live without daily sex!

Of course ... love is also necessary, albeit not lasting. But the mastirbazione, the sgrilletata, the saw for men, is a moment of mine, private moments, completely personal and what trouble if they were missing from my life. 

This without detracting from any loved one, or bed friend, to whom I would never deny the pleasure of sex for any reason (health permitting).

How many times has it happened to me to take a bath after intercourse and abandon myself to masturbation in the tub, thinking about the relationship just ended. 

She, masturbation, is the only sexual confidant with whom I am truly sincere, that I only call when I want it, that I am not afraid to offend when I do not want it and that I am almost sure that it will accompany me throughout my life ... even when he won't be able to do anything for me one day!

Am I a maniac? A pervert? I don't think so, indeed, I'm sure. I don't feel selfish thinking about my personal pleasure, when I have sex I think about my goal, my first goal, that is the satisfaction of her, of my pussy. In conclusion, therefore, you will be asking yourself some questions:
Do I prefer masturbation to sexual intercourse?
No, they are two different things. One does not exclude the other!
Do I consider myself a good lover / partner?
You can put your hand on the fire, mine, in your hand, I already know where to put it.
What would I think if my "he" masturbated?

I believe everyone has the same rights, but I wouldn't feel betrayed. It is a natural thing, everyone does it, but few have the courage to admit it. 

Too often at work I hear colleagues who tell me that when their husband is away, perhaps for the soccer game, they dedicate themselves to personal pleasure. 

Obviously their "he" doesn't know and most likely will do the same when his wife is out.

I made Roberto's mistake, I dwelt on my past and I have not (have) yet told you how we met or how we live our relationship. 

But I felt that without a more or less deep knowledge of our past lives, as written at the beginning of this story, it is difficult to understand our present.

Now I leave you, writing this story, I got all wet under there, time to change my briefs and I'll come back with another story.