A Topic Of Interest: Two Sisters Speak On Masturbation

Every now and then, I run across a post sent in that I would rather not touch. Not in a bad, oh, you are going to offend some one way. But in a let me allow this to breathe in its on space sort of way. That is how I feel about the following two post contributed to The Asylum by @ShePonderings and @Spinstercompass. The discussion is very mature, and any responses given should reflect that level of maturity.

Like A Virgin. Touched For The Very First Time

Many parents fear that one question that comes at around the age of 4 and up:

Where do babies come from?

Depending on one’s approach, the answer can be honest & healthy or, in many cases, not to savoury.

Prior to getting heavily involved in “the church”, my mother gave my (oldest younger) brother and I “the talk”. It was cool because she bought books with real-life pictures. She told us that we should wait until we get married and never to allow anyone to touch us on the penis or vagina (molestation). We understood that.

But neither Mother or Father Dear, having been divorced for most of my life, ever discussed masturbation.

As my mother got us involved in “the church”, there was even more emphasis on saving oneself until marriage; taking it a step further, we were told that even the mere thought of anything sexual meant that we were sinning. So basically, that thing that I tried before the age of 10, that thing that felt really weird but really good when I did it to myself, was wrong?

Whoa. I was going straight to hell.

As a result, there were years of repressed thoughts. I followed “the Word” as much as possible. No sex and especially no masturbation. That masturbation thing was even worse than sex, according to “the church”. That could lead to pornography, premarital sex, prostitution… Whatever “the church” said, I believed it. But here was the problem – almost all the kids at church were doing a hell of a lot more than masturbating. They were engaging in sex acts from as early as 11 years old. Pastors’s children, elders’s children, deacons/deaconesses children, etc….. One girl had her 1st baby about 3 months after her 14th birthday. I felt like an oddball, but according to “the church” and “the Word”, I was doing the right thing. No body exploration, no sex, no touching oneself for the very first time… None of that. The mere thought of those things was disgusting, pushed out of my mind as fast as said thoughts attempted to enter it That was perfect for my mother, who’d been divorced from my father for years and he, therefore, couldn’t give any input into what his children were learning. Despite that, in high school I had a couple boyfriends in “the church” who my mother approved of and even though I didn’t touch myself, they did for me. 😐 I didn’t have vaginal intercourse with any of them because, according to “the Word”, that would be the ultimate sin. Yet and still, I let a few of them “play with it”. On one hand, since they were the ones who were touching me and I wasn’t doing anything, it was okay; on the other hand, wasn’t anything even remotely sexual considered a sin? According to some in “the church”, having so much as an orgasm before marriage was sinful.

As you may imagine I was quite torn, conflicted and even self-loathing for doing/feeling natural healthy things. I was a very late bloomer because of it.

I left “the church” behind almost 5 years ago, which began my deprogramming. Along with that deprogramming came revelations about my body – all those repressed thoughts were to my detriment and, contrary to my beliefs, it was alright to masturbate. I tried it as an adult and it was freeing and felt pretty damn good.

There are some people who are frequent participators in masturbation. I wasn’t one of those people. And after a while, I just stopped doing it. It wasn’t really working for me. I’ve always preferred a man’s touch to mine. For me, it has nothing to do with my body image (anymore); I’ve just always preferred it that way. But I’m almost 100% sure that my church upbringing had a major impact on my views of all sex acts, including masturbation.

It’s said that religion is the opiate of the masses. For the Diaspora, that is certainly true. We’re given mixed messages on a constant basis – Madonna/whore complex, catering to men as submissives yet needing to be video girls to satisfy their needs to the detriment of our selves….. Shit, what are we supposed to do? It’s confusing and damn near schizophrenic.

Once we can define our sexuality for our selves, maybe then will masturbation, and all other aspects of sexuality, be considered what they are – healthy for the body, mind and soul.

Masturbation: A Tragedy

I have a love-hate relationship with Masturbation. In the early days,

one couldn’t keep me from masturbating. I was a virgin, back then, when I was

accidentally introduced to this self-loving practice. I’d been chatting online and a

very erotic man had written me a fantasy so arousing, I felt the heartbeat between

my legs. I didn’t know what to do to relieve myself of this sensation—being the

naïve virgin of 13 that I was—so I asked him what I should do. He educated me

about masturbation, and from that moment I was hooked! I began giving myself 13

orgasms a day, off and on, for a while. At one point, I believe I was addicted. I owned

about 5 different toys and couldn’t put them down. My only conflict at that time was

Jesus: I was a Christian; and according to the Church—depending on which church

one attended—masturbation was the demon spirit Incubus or Succubus declaring

war on our Christian souls. I tried to stop, but couldn’t. I even went on masturbation

fasts and attempted to have the “spirit of Masturbation” exorcised out of me. I then

graduated to sex at the age of nearly 25.

Being a Scorpio—according to an astrologer friend—I get the most

enjoyment out of sex when it’s an experience shared with another. I’ve found this to

be true for me, maybe not for every Scorpio or woman in the world, but my truth.

After having experienced fabulous sex, my relationship with Masturbation changed.

Masturbation, once my sexual comfort during the night, had now become the bane of

my existence: I resented it. Presently, I’m annoyed by masturbation like the

annoyance that comes from a man with a little dick who feels he can please me.

Having had such an experience with a very average male—both in girth and length—

I can say he was quite good; however, with his penis not being necessarily average in

girth or length, my mind was ever present. I never lost myself, lost control, during

the act, and so it is with masturbation. It may get the job done, but that’s not good

enough. Touching myself does not feel the same as another touching my body.

During masturbation, I control the pleasure, and even though I have a toy, I am in

control of how said toy pleases me. No phallic object can make a satisfactory

substitute for the male appendage, nor the connection that comes from two, warm

blooded, flesh and bone humans coming together in search of sexual bliss & rapture.

A toy can’t simulate that, will not simulate that, in my opinion. Sure, toys serve their

purpose, and every once in a while, I find myself using one—or my companion, the

showerhead—in a tight spot, but everything in my being prefers the real; and being

a sign of extremes, my relationship with Masturbation ends up being in limbo, a

constant battle between love and hate.
I love the power of not having to settle for less than spectacular sex because I

have my fingers or toys to fall back on; at the same time, my ego & internal sex

goddess feels as though sex is something I deserve & should be having, therefore I

shouldn’t have to “depend” on myself to get my pleasure. I love how masturbation

teaches me about my own body, and how knowing my body properly through this

solo practice enables to me help a man learn how to please me; and at the same time,

I’d rather my body be the terrain a man discovers for me, and I his.
When I tell friends or acquaintances how little I masturbate—which is

normally between twice every two weeks and 4 times a week, depending on my

sexual cycles and moods—they’re shocked, but it makes perfect sense to me. In a

way, I feel masturbation is beneath me: I shouldn’t have to masturbate! I should

have a lover, not necessarily a boyfriend or husband, ready & willing to take many

sexual adventures with me; yet in this world where touching knees and toes or doing

the jackhammer is king, true lovers tend to be few (or far in distance). I can’t afford

to settle…so masturbation it is.