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wasn't making noises like that actress.

I stopped and took a shower. I'd planned to go shopping today.

I did the usual things in the shower, washed my hair, etc. I always used a washcloth. I did today, but when I got to my pussy, I hung the washcloth up and used my soapy hand; really just one finger like before.

With the other hand I was feeling up my soapy tits. It didn't feel any better than when I was in bed, but I continued and then continued some more. I only stopped because I ran out of hot water.

I did go shopping; I wasn't looking for anything but ended up buying a sexy bright red negligee. It came to mid-thigh. Perhaps it would spur on my next date to fuck me good.

I didn't spend as much time as I'd planned shopping; I was anxious to get home re-watch that movie and play some more.

I changed into my new lingerie, no panties. That's how I spent the afternoon and evening, letting my finger explore my pussy. It didn't get any better; I didn't make noises or have the expressions on my face that the actress did.

There had to be more. I opened my laptop and Googled ‘female masturbation.' It was a disappointment. There were links to sites which proclaimed masturbation healthy, and others which proclaimed it sinful, but no ‘how-to's.'

There must be something. I'd never looked at pornography; never thought about it, but on a whim, I Googled ‘female masturbation adult movies.'

It was a gold mine. I found link after link of girls masturbating. I'd been doing it all wrong.

A half hour later, I was sitting up in bed, my laptop between my legs, mimicking the girl on the screen. I discovered my clitoris. What I mean is I discovered the joy of my clitoris.

For the first time in my life, I had an orgasm. It was the greatest thing ever. That actress in the first movie I watched had nothing on me: I made the same noises she made, and I could only guess, but I'm sure the expressions on my face were just like hers.

It got better the second time, and even better the third time. I was certain that I was more animated than that actress. I rolled around on my bed; my fingers glued to my pussy. I didn't get much sleep, and I didn't need to look at my laptop. I wore my hand and fingers out.

I must have fallen asleep. In the morning, I was drenched in sweat and that negligee was on the floor.

I took a shower. No washcloth this time and spent much of the time with my soapy hand playing. I brought myself to an orgasm and then another.

After drying my hair, I put on a robe made breakfast and while I had coffee and ate, I watched another adult female masturbation movies.

Then I spent Sunday in bed. My fingers found my clitoris time and time again. I barely made it to work Monday morning on time, and I wasn't able to concentrate on my work.

All I thought of was getting home, getting undressed, and masturbating. Three of four times I came that afternoon and evening.

It was more of the same Tuesday, but I did something else. I played with my pussy, but for the longest time didn't make myself come. I was becoming familiar with my pussy; playing with my inner labia; sticking two, sometimes three fingers up my pussy, and of course, learning exactly how my clitoris reacted to the way I touched it.

On Wednesday I hurried home from school, undressed, placed a towel on the floor in front of my full-length mirror, spread my legs and for the first time looked at my pussy. A view only my gynecologist had ever seen.

I played and played, opening my labia as wide as possible. I saw my clitoris, and I touched it the way I'd found that it sent orgasmic shock waves through me. I loved the way my open pussy glistened and felt so slick.

Every day was the same. At work, I went through the motions; doing enough not to raise questions, anxious to get home to enjoy an evening with my pussy.

Then it happened, I had a date. A real date, with a real guy. I always stopped at the same coffee shop every morning, and frequently ran into the same people. One of them was Leon. He was kind of cute, and we often made small talk. This morning, he asked me out.

He invited me to a play. The city had a large theatre district, but there were also numerous small, very small theatre groups trying to breakthrough to the big time. Call it off, off, off Broadway. That's where Leon took me.

I brought an oversized bag with my new red negligee inside along with a toothbrush. Yes, I was hoping.

The theatre was in an old store front and sat less than a hundred people. We waited in line for the doors to open. I couldn't help but see the store next door.

It was an adult bookstore; promptly displaying a variety of dildoes. My roommate in college used one and on occasion I'd hear her during the night. I never thought about it until now. Never.

After the play and getting something to eat, Leon asked me to go home with him. Like I said, I was hoping.

Like many of my dates, it was a disappointment. Even the enticing sexy, red lingerie didn't help. It was over way too soon, and the morning fuck was just as bad.

Frankly, I was thinking of what it might be like with one of those vibrators.

I thanked Leon for a wonderful evening; went home, showered and dressed. Yes, I was going back to the city to that adult bookstore. I wore sunglasses, and put my hair up under a baseball cap.

The train stop was less than a block from the store. Looking around, I thought I'd found what I was looking for. Like my breasts, the dildo was like Goldilocks: not too small, and not too big; just right. I bought enough batteries to last a lifetime; or so I thought.

I was anxious to get home, and my pussy was wet on the train home.

TO BE CONTINUED

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