Mona's O… In the Beginning: The Big M.

I invented masturbation.

(Yeah, I hear ya giggling out there. Because YOU thought YOU invented it, didn't ya?!)

Children have a great gift for discovery. They're not afraid to explore, to ask questions, to push the limits to see how far they can go (or get away with). One of the first things they explore is, of course, themselves. As babies, they analyze their hands with great intent. Their feet become exciting dervishes they can't take their eyes off. As they grow older, they find their noses, their belly buttons, their knees, and of course, their genitalia.

And then they discover…if I touch myself down there, it feels goooooood.

I can't remember a time when I didn't masturbate. I remember quite vividly being 5 years old, kindergarten looming on the horizon, and masturbating in my bed, to make myself feel better. I didn't have the finesse back then that I do now. At that young age, it was more a chop-chop, rubbing, clenching affair, the entire inside of my left hand stuck down there, right hand pressing down on it, thighs crossed, rocking back and forth (usually in bed, in the dark). The orgasm itself was more like feeling good, feeling good, then feeling like I was on the crest of a small roller coaster, then I was done.

I never called it an 'orgasm', though. I didn't call it anything. There wasn't anyone I wanted to talk to about it. Because, yes, it was my invention, a damn good one, and I didn't want anyone else to copy me. Selfish thing that I was. It was mostly a way to fall asleep.

I branched out from using my hand after a while, with whatever I thought might work. A doll. A pencil. My sock. I knew as long as I could sneak it in my bed, I could use it. Curiously, though, I almost always did it in bed, and never got caught.

Well, I sort of got caught. Once. My parents still talk about it (and ignorance is bliss!).

I was probably 10 years old, and I discovered that I could manage a rubbing position in the bathroom on the toilet. Instead of peeing, I'd sit there with my hand jammed in, a little more rubbing around, a bit more style, and have a little better orgasm, one that bent my body over with pre-pubescent pleasure. One day I was just hitting my stride, feeling really good, the orgasm peaked and I bent over to the right, my head resting on the toilet paper dispenser. And my mom walked in. I sat up grabbing for toilet paper, something, to cover up what I was doing. She thought, since what she saw was my head coming up, that I had fallen asleep. She started laughing, "You fell asleep! Why don't you finish up now." Then she told my dad. And it became a family story. Last Christmas they recounted it yet again, and I didn't want to ruin their fun by saying, "Actually, I was rubbing my snoopy until I had a little-girl orgasm!" Didn't want any heart attacks during a holiday weekend, dontcha know.

As an adult, I know how all my orgasms feel, all types (which I'll get into later). Analyzing those early wank sessions, I'd have to say they were orgasms, but of a really crude variety. Hormones and general growth and maturity have made them earth-shattering.

My son masturbates, and has been since he was old enough to hold his penis and pee. Possibly before. We've let him know it's perfectly normal, but he should do it in his bedroom or the bathroom, where nobody else is, because it's HIS special thing. I don’t think my daughter has found out about her little flower yet. She's such a pleasure-seeker that I'm afraid once she finds out what she's capable of, we'll never be able to pull her out of her bedroom! But as long as she doesn't do it in front of her kindergarten class, or yell out in the grocery store, "Mom! I masturbated four times today! That's a new record!", I'll let her think she invented it.