Maybe it was the fear of my mother who taught me that "down there" is a dirty place but It is strange that even though I was masturbating by rubbing my pussy on pillows and furniture, it took me quite a while to discover the art of masturbation with my hands. But of course, it happened. It was inevitable. And when it happened... Hmmmm...
I don't remember exactly when or how but I think one day I woke with my hands between my legs and instead of using the pillow, I started rubbing my pussy with my hand. And soon I was doing it every morning. I would wake up with my hands already between my legs and I would rub my pussy for several minutes, enjoying that pleasant sensation.
And masturbating In this way had more advantages: I had more control over what part of my pussy would receive more or less attention, the softness of my fingers, compared to rubbing on furniture, even through my panties. And I didn't depend on furniture so I could do it whenever I as alone, it didn't matter where.
So soon I started another kind of exploration: places to masturbate. I started doing it whenever I was alone in the house. Not only in my bedroom but in the living room, in the bathroom, in the kitchen, in the backyard, after making sure no neighbors could see me... Whenever I was alone I would reach under my skirt and rub my pussy through my panties.
The best place was still the bed because I could spread my legs wide open to increase my pleasure and I wasn't risking being seen by my parents. But sometimes it was good to explore and do it in other places. And the risk of being caught would add to the rush. When I did it in the backyard I would pretend to be crouching playing. Then I would look around to see if there was anyone who could see me and then put my hand under the skirt and rub my pussy through the panties.
In this period when I discovered the art of masturbating with my hand I also discovered something else. I was in my bedroom masturbating as usual and after I finished I was laying down in bed resting. My heart still pounding from the orgasm, my legs still shaky, my hand still on my pussy. I raised my hand and looked at it. It was very wet and the juices had turned a little white from all the rubbing. I brought my fingers closer to my face and sniffed expecting to feel the smell of urine. But no. It was different. It was a mixture of sweet and sour. More sweet than sour, actually. I sniffed a little more. It is exotic and exciting. And it began making me feel horny again. I kept smelling it and soon I had to masturbate again.
Some days later I was smelling my fingers after a masturbation session. They were particularly wet this time. A thick, transparent liquid covered them and when I opened my fingers the liquid would stretch between them. I couldn’t resist. I was curious to see how it tastes. I tentatively licked a finger. At first I thought it tasted exactly as I imagined it would, based on the smell. I licked again. It wasn’t unpleasant. On the contrary, it tasted sweet and sour as I had thought but there was something more. It tasted like… In the lack of a more appropriate word, as it makes me horny, I would say it tasted like… horniness.
Smelling and tasting my pussy juices became part of my masturbation ritual. In fact, when I knew I would be alone for a long period, I would start my sessions by touching my pussy and smelling my fingers, to get me horny and in the mood. And during the sessions I would stop from time to time to smell and taste my fingers to increase my horniness.
Many times I was wondered if what I was doing was normal or maybe that I could get sick or hurt myself doing it. I tried to stop many times, in fear that I was going to end up sick or hurt. But I couldn’t stop anymore. It was too pleasant.
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