Masturbation: The First Step in a One-Woman Sexual (R)Evolution

I had my first real live, toe-curling orgasm at 32. I was completely alone when it happened. While some girls were secretly touching themselves under the sheets in their teenage years, I missed out. In the years that followed, I managed to convince myself orgasms happened to other people and as long as the sex was wild and loud, an orgasm wasn’t necessary. Until I learned what makes them so wonderful ... and addictive. And guess what? Self-pleasure helped me get there. This month is Masturbation Month. Here's how masturbation started my sexual (r)evoltuion.

The Pre-Orgasm Years

OK, so some of my pre-orgasm years were my childhood, and my really awkward pubescent stage - the years when I asked my mother about sex and she responded with, “I am not talking about that.” Of course, she was also the mom who, when I got my first period, handed me a pad and said, “I am so sorry.” I don’t blame my mother for my lack of orgasms, but my inability or unwillingness to discuss sex was, for a time at least, genetic.
The first time I had sex there was definitely no orgasm. Hell, I wasn’t even sure he’d stuck it in. (Yeah, that bad.) Subsequent times felt much better. One guy had a cock a porn star would kill for, and he had a good idea of how to use it, but none of the men I had sex with from the age of 18 until I was 32 knew how to bring me to orgasm or cared enough to find out. I’d get close with the right angle during penetrative sex, but I could never fall over the orgasmic cliff.
Forget touching my own clit or fingering myself. I just didn't do that. I’d bought into all the myths about masturbation being something only guys did. I wasn’t even sure if the smell of my own sex was normal or not. Baby, we’ve come a long way since those days.

Gaining Sexual Confidence

Right after my divorce (to the last man I would ever have bad sex with - that’s a commitment I made to myself, not a guarantee), I fell in lust with a number of men and discovered NSFW accounts on Tumblr and sex blogging - all at once. On a daily basis, I was inundated with sexual thoughts, ideas, images and, most importantly, urges. I hadn’t felt like this since I was 19; it was delicious!
My first post-divorce fling was great at sex but he wasn't too worried about my pleasure. Of course, the way I screamed and moaned, he probably thought his cock was doing its job. The second fling, well, he was desperate to bring me to orgasm. He made it his personal mission, and until I masturbated for the first time, he came the closest to making it happen. It came upon me like a freight train, but I never relaxed enough for a full climax. He dumped me over it. He claimed he was tired of working too hard and me holding back. (I'm kind of glad that didn’t work out.)
In many cases, I could feel my climax building, but I was terrified to let go. Why? Because I felt like I had to pee. Every. Single. Time. Being the fixer that I am, and not wanting to go back to a sexless life, I decided to fix the problem. It was time to masturbate my way out of this. (Struggling with shame? Read 10 Ways Sex Toys Can Help You Drop Guilt and Sexual Shame.)

Learning to Masturbate

Think about it. If every time you got close to coming you thought you were going to pee all over yourself, your bed and possibly a partner, would you do it? Probably not. At least I wouldn't. Pee isn’t one of my kinks. But I was in touch with my sexuality at this point in ways I’d never been before. So, I was going to figure out how to do this orgasm thing, one way or another. Of course, I also told myself if I peed everywhere, I may never try it again. (Seeking a sex toy to help you on your journey? Head over to Betty's Toy Box for The Best Sex Toys for Female Orgasm.)
I turned off the lights, got under the covers, spread my legs and let my fingers explore. It was strange, but in a good way. I had no idea I had skin that was so soft. Heat was emanating from every pore. Oh, and the moisture made everything better. I explored my body until …
Oh God, I want to come! 
I took a deep breath and told myself if it was urine, no one had to know. I wouldn’t write about it. I wouldn’t admit it to anyone. Maybe I’d talk to my doctor. A split second later, I relaxed my ironclad control and let my body take over. I flooded the bed with a hot gush of fluids. I was up and out of the bed like a shot, turning on the light, and inspecting the “evidence.”
Smelled like sex. Not yellow. Tasted ... clean but like the sex I smelled. Nope, I didn’t pee.I was a squirter. It was a concept I was only beginning to hear about. Yet, I did it. I masturbated. Once I started, I understood why teenage boys lock themselves in their bedrooms. I couldn’t get enough. One orgasm was never enough - it still isn’t.