Touching and Playing in the Bathtub

Crushing

Crushing

I remember the first time I was touching my naughty spot.

I was playing a new game in my bath. Helpless to a powerful, steady stream of warm water cascading down between my legs. It was a tickle at first that slowly grew to the most intense tingle, the of most exciting, pleasurable feeling I had ever felt.

I was not sure what exactly what happened. Would not have been able to explain it to my equally innocent friends. Nothing in my hush-hush church upbringing had prepared me for this earthshaking experience, equal parts pleasure and shame. Anything that felt this good had to be naughty and sinful. I didn’t know what to call what had I stumbled upon, only that it felt good but wrong. I tried not to care. No longer would I be crushed out on Johnny Deep or Brad Pitt. H2O had stolen my heart, and all I wanted to do was take another long bath so I could be touching myself again.

After that, I never wanted to stop doing it, but I struggled with the shame. I only allowed myself to take one of my naughty baths as a reward for doing something good. Dredging through the book “Treasure Island” in school was tough.  To keep me motivated, at the end of each chapter, I had a naughty bath. There are 34 chapters in that book. Having made that deal with myself, I quickly breezed through every chapter, enjoyed every second of that special tingle. Robert Louis Stevenson will forever be an erotic writer in my mind.

Soon my hormones were a freight train, and my fingers tried to keep up. I worried I might lose the thrill of touching myself eventually once the novelty wore off. Then, I discovered new thrills, and toys to enjoy as I touch myself.

Lil Emma

 

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