Early Experiences of Sexuality

I was nineteen and in my first year of college when I became aware of my own sexuality. Although I had often touched myself when I was much younger, it was more a case of exploring the things which made me feel good. This started after I had walked past my parents’ bedroom and heard some strange sounds coming from within. I peered around the door which was standing ajar and saw my mother naked on top of my father. They were obviously enjoying what they were engaged in because they were being quite vocal about it and mother was saying the most incredibly “dirty” things to him. I can clearly recall her reflection in the mirror of her dressing table and the way her naked breasts bounced and swung wildly as she rode him. They must have heard me as I stood at the door because she suddenly stopped what she was doing and got off his body. As was the norm in those early years, she got out of bed, pulled the chamber pot from beneath the bed and relieved herself into it. I remember giggling because the sound of her peeing was so loud that I was sure it would wake father. Now, up until then I had firmly believed that sex was something parents never did but I was quickly learning that it was most certainly not the case with my parents. As my mother stood up to wipe her fanny dry, she was suddenly joined by father who came and stood in front of her. I was shocked when he reached out and touched her hairy bush and appeared to be pushing his finger into her slit which was obviously still dripping wet. I almost gagged when he put that finger into his mouth and sucked on it. “How could he be so depraved?” I remember thinking to myself as I quietly withdrew from the door.

All I remember of that is hearing my mother ask him if he liked to do that and his reply which came with a chuckle. “You know I love hearing and watching you pee!”

When I got back to my bed, my brain was a jumbled mass of the images I had just beheld. I may have been a tad confused but my sex was so wet that I simply had no option but to pleasure myself and the orgasm I experienced that night was by far the most intense I had ever achieved.

The next morning, I had the chance to be alone with my mother in the kitchen while she was washing the breakfast dishes. It was always the routine for me to dry them as she placed the washed dishes in the drying rack and the time was perfect for me to ask whatever questions I had from the previous night’s experience.
“Mom, do you always say “naughty” things to dad when you make love?” I asked naively. I remember that she was blushing as she turned to reply to my question; “Yes dear, adults do that sometimes.” She answered rather blandly, making it obvious that she had no desire to pursue the subject. “Why?” she asked in a rather subdued voice. I explained that I had heard noises and came to see what was going on when I saw her on top of my father. “And he touched you there after you peed.” I added, pointing to my groin.

She was clearly embarrassed and suggested that we change the subject; she stuttered slightly when she answered, “Some men do like to do that.” She giggled girlishly.

I still had a zillion questions I needed answered but guessed that it would be more comfortable if I retired to my room. The images of what I had seen, still swirled in my brain, causing nectar to flow copiously from my blossom and for a second night I played with myself till climaxing powerfully. Later that evening, I heard my mother using the toilet outside my room and wondered if she would let my father touch her there again. Her damp pussy must have worked its magic because a short while later I heard their noises again. I was attracted to their door and very quietly pushed it further open. My arousal told me that I had voyeuristic tendencies. Father was between mother’s legs and he was obviously kissing and licking her fabulously hairy pussy, causing her to writhe with pleasure. While I was watching, I couldn’t resist the temptation to touch my twitching sex and I did so until I could feel an orgasm starting to erupt deep inside me. I quickly but silently exited the room. This time my brain was burning with the picture of what I had just witnessed and felt both compelled and guilty. Compelled because I wanted to see more of what father was doing to mother and guilty because I actually yearned for him to do the same to me, a very taboo thing for a young woman to be thinking!!!!

A few nights later, because the house was modest and small, I heard my parents bathing together and as I passed the door, the giggling coming from within told me that they were “playing”. I peered through the keyhole and once again, what I saw shocked me to the very core. Father was standing in front of mother who was playing with his penis which was just semi-hard. She giggled playfully as he started to pee onto her voluptuous boobs. She was obviously enjoying it because she was rubbing his urine into her skin while her other hand was busy playing with her muffin. Finally as his flow diminished, she took his flaccid member into her mouth and drank from it. I watched in awe as his member went from being a little Sparrow to a rampant eagle within a few minutes of her oral ministrations. I recall wondering what it must be like to have a penis in your mouth. The look on father’s face told me that it had to be good for a man because his expression exuded total bliss while his hips pushed back and forth. Finally after a few minutes mother must have got bored because she stood and placed one leg on the side of the bath. I could not hear what they were saying but it must have been amusing because they were both laughing as he positioned himself facing her and she guided his hard penis into her hairy muffin. He gave just a few thrusts into her before he pulled it out and sprayed his “stuff” onto her thigh. I was certainly being educated in the ways of sex at a very rapid rate and with great difficulty I managed to pull myself away from the keyhole, dash to my room and play with my blossom till I too was satisfied. Because I enjoyed watching so much, I began to worry that there was something weird about me. I certainly never had any idea that my parents were such sexual beings and I had obviously inherited this trait from both of them. I found myself constantly thinking about all of the things I had seen and my driving thought was that I wanted to experience them too. The problem was that I didn’t have a boyfriend at that stage and I thus spent an inordinate amount of time pleasuring myself.

One afternoon, I came home from college an hour earlier than normal and as I passed my parents’ bedroom, I heard the sound of my mother in the throes of ecstasy (something I had become quite accustomed to). I thought for a moment that my father must have come home early too. I quietly pushed the bedroom door open and the sight that greeted my eyes was completely unexpected. My mother was on her back with her legs parted and she was having a session with what could only be described as a dildo. While her left hand thrust the joy toy in and out of her sex, her other hand was kneading her pendulous breasts and teasing her very large, dark nipples. Although I had never used a thing like that when I pleasured myself, I realised that it was the perfect substitute for a penis. I smiled with relief when it dawned on me that what I got up to was perfectly normal, after all, my mother was doing exactly the same. My mouth was agape as I watched her intently. She withdrew the implement which was black and about eight inches long and placed it on the bed next to her after giving it a thorough licking. It lay there glistening with either her juices or saliva, I was sure which but for the moment that didn’t matter because her fingers were now so busy playing with something at the apex of her sex which she was obviously enjoying because her hips were thrusting upwards in a series of small jerks and her groans were so loud that I feared the neighbours would hear. When it was clear to me that she had achieved what she was working toward, I quietly left the room and went to the kitchen where I put the kettle on for a cup of coffee. She joined me a few minutes later, flushed and clearly out of breath. She was surprised to find me sitting at the table but apparently unperturbed that I may have heard something because she didn’t ask me. When the heavily pregnant silence became too much for me to endure, I decided to break it.

“Mother, do you pleasure yourself often?” I asked hesitantly. She looked squarely into my eyes as she replied; “Yes, my dear; I’ve been meaning to have “the talk” with you for a long time but since you have broached the subject, I suppose now is as good a time as any. Women have their needs and very often a man is not around to satisfy them. Your father actually taught me how to do it although I had been playing with myself ever since I was fourteen I had never been able to get to that point which is absolute bliss. He showed me where to touch and how to do it because he knows the female sexual anatomy better than most women do. He also bought me an ebony dildo. At first I thought it was a carved wooden Madonna but then one day he showed me that it was actually in the form of a phallus and suggested I use it when he is not here. Knowing that I have a very high libido, I suppose it was his way of ensuring that I didn’t stray!” she chuckled mischievously. She went on to explain that when she was growing up she had walked in on her brother who was masturbating and was so fascinated by what he was doing, that she offered to do it for him. “Because the house was small and we shared a room, it became the norm for me to “help” him every time he got the urge; and that was often!” she laughed heartily. “We never had sex though; your father was my first and only man and he is so good that I would never be happy with another man.” She added casually. “I wish I had a brother!” I sighed. “Never mind my dear; your time will come and when you have a lover who knows what he is doing, there is nothing better in the world. In the meantime, just carry on pleasuring yourself, there is nothing wrong with it despite what the churches say to the contrary. At least a lot of my burning questions had been answered, albeit a lot more frankly than I ever expected.