Note: This story contains graphic descriptions of my own sexual experiences — it’s the first really personal story I’ve posted on my blog so I’m really excited to share it. However, if reading about my sex life might be TMI for you, then you’ll want to skip this post.

When you don’t have anyone you can talk to about sex, figuring out masturbation can be a little tricky.

My first play partner was one of my Ken dolls. I knew that intercourse involved a man’s penis entering a vagina, and Ken was the closest thing to a man that I had access to.  I was pretty disappointed to pull down his shorts and find a vague crotch-shaped outline with no distinguishable cock to speak of.  Still convinced that I should be trying to have sex with a man, I ended up holding him between my legs, rubbing his head against the crotch of my panties.  I felt the weight of the blankets on my back and tried to imagine that a man was pressing his weight down on me.  It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t particularly satisfying, either.

I learned a critical piece of masturbatory technique from a friend of mine in junior high. She was sleeping over at my house, and we decided to give a “sex talk” to my younger sister and one of her friends.  I loved these talks, even though anything I knew about sex was from books, because they were the only socially acceptable way I had to talk about sex.  So we’re lying on my bedroom floor, and my friend starts talking about masturbation. I figure I already have that covered, until she says, “Some girls even put their fingers inside themselves!”

My next thought was: “Holy cow! You can DO that?”

It had absolutely never occurred to me that it would be a good idea to touch my pussy directly with my fingers, much less try to work them inside.  Playing with myself became much more fun after that.  I was able to give myself my first orgasms, riding my middle finger while I pushed my palm against my clit.

After a while, though, it still seemed like something was missing.  I wanted to really feel filled, and it was hard to imagine having sex with a guy when I could feel my own hands touching myself.  I started looking around my bedroom when I remembered my miniature souvenir baseball bat.  It was about 18″ long. The barrel was about an inch and a half in diameter, and it slimmed down at the handle; the knob at the end of the handle was a little less than an inch in diameter. It was long and hard, two qualities which my research indicated were extremely desirable.  Perfect!

When I was just warming up, I could use the smaller, handle end. As I got hotter and wetter, I would turn it around and push the thicker end inside me. The best part was that I could hold the handle with my feet and fuck myself with it that way, pushing it in and out. It felt so good, and I could almost imagine that it was someone else inside me.  After I found out about anal sex through a piece of erotica I found online, I tried pushing the smaller end of the bat inside my ass with my feet while working fingers in my pussy and against my clit.  It was a little tricky to keep the bat at a comfortable angle and not accidentally push inside too far too quickly…but when it worked, it was absolutely amazing.

What’s more amazing is that I never contracted any infections from the bat, despite the fact that the only things I had to clean it with were soap and water. I didn’t have access to condoms (the Lutheran Church frowned upon giving any kind of birth control to unmarried people, since that just encourages them to have sex).  I hadn’t had any really useful sex education. In what little I did have, toys and masturbation weren’t on the agenda.   It finally occurred to me that I should put plastic wrap over the handle before using it in my ass, which turned out to be a useful innovation.

Using pervertables (ordinary objects re-purposed as sex toys) was part of my growth as a sexual being.  This is one of the reasons I am so interested in technological empowerment: DIY toymaking and toy hacking can make having new experiences more accessible to people.