I couldn’t stop to think now; my body wouldn’t let me stop. I moved my hand back down between my legs. My finger brushed my clit again. Now it was wet and slid across my clit more easily. My body shook and I moaned. I clasped my hand over my mouth to keep from moaning aloud, just keeping my one hand between my legs. My awkward fumblings were over. I knew, instinctively, what I needed to do. I move my finger up and down my clit, stroking it. I quickly fell into a slow, steady rhythm.
As my fingers moved over my clit, I felt like everything else in the world slipped away. There was just the building sensation inside of my body and one thought. Over and over in my mind I just kept thinking “Joseph, Joseph, Joseph!” With each stroke of my finger I thought of my brother, the person who was opening this strange new world up to me. The feeling inside of me became more and more intense. I had to bite my hand, hard, to keep from making noise.
Suddenly, all of the tension in my body reached an unbearable crescendo. I wanted so badly to stop, I couldn’t stand the furious agony anymore. And then there was a glorious, almost excruciating release from the tension. My entire body shook all over and I bit down so hard onto my hand that I left marks. And then a wave of pleasure spread out in every-increasing waves from my clitoris. It rolled up my body and down my legs. It was a warm, vibrating feeling that erased anything approaching a thought in my mind and left me a puddle of loose muscles.
Finally, the feeling passed and I lay on my bed panting and confused. It had been the most pure sensation of pleasure I’d ever experienced. There was nothing even remotely close to it in all of my life. I knew that I should be concerned, maybe even scared. Anything that felt that lovely had to be sinful. And what did it have to do with the man in the magazine or with my brother? But I couldn’t seriously think of any of those things. I was too…satisfied. All I could do was slide under my covers and fall asleep completely rested.
* * * * *
I awoke the next morning, still feeling limbered and contented. But I could think now, and I knew that something strange had happened the night before. I got out of bed and felt thankful that I’d woken up early enough to clean up after myself. I picked up the magazine and carefully slid it under the mattress and above the box spring. I also picked up my nightgown and put it away. I then got dressed and headed downstairs. The whole time I felt a strange mixture of emotions. I was ashamed of myself, first off. I didn’t know why, but I was almost overwhelmed by a feeling that I’d let my family down. That I’d let God down. But I also felt curious. What was happening to me and why? And why did something I instinctively knew was wrong feel so right?
As I sat down at breakfast, I expected everyone to know that I’d done something. I was a little nervous at first, eating breakfast with the family and doing all of my normal chores. But everyone treated me normally; no one was the wiser that I’d done anything out of the ordinary. Whatever it was that I did. That made things even stranger. I’d always assumed my parents knew when I sinned (they usually did). More questions raised, I guess. And I didn’t have anyone to ask about it. I didn’t even know if I could talk to Joseph about it. It was too wrong and Joseph was even more sensitive to sin than I was.
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