The Diary of a Disaster Queen – Help! I’m Addicted to Masturbating

When I was 15 years old my friends drew me a diagram of a vagina. By this point I’d not even started shaving yet (I was a late bloomer) and so getting to know my bits was completely alien to me. One break time in the high school yard, Whitney, the ring leader and most sexually experienced of the group, had passed around a copy of a women’s magazine that featured an article on ’10 different ways to pleasure yourself’.

One of the articles had explained how to tie the corner of your pillow case into a knot, lay on your belly and place said knot onto the clitoris and proceed to move in circular motions until climaxing. “The what?!” I was baffled. I’d only just figured out the correct way to wear a G string and now they were talking about G spots – I was way out of my element. “We all need to go home and try one of these,” the imperious Whitney had spoken, like the true Regina George that she was.

I tried the pillow trick and maybe my head wasn’t in it but for the life of me I couldn’t find this clit thing that I’d heard so much about. I gave up and resigned myself to be one of the hermaphrodite people that Channel 4 had done a Dispatches special about.

Back at school, disheartened and still no closer to an orgasm as the previous day, I shared my concerns with the girls. “Of course you have a clit!” They were being supportive, “come here I’ll draw it for you”. “It helps to play with your nips a bit too.” “Start slow and then gradually rub faster and faster.” Friends are the best, aren’t they? That night, after an extensive lesson in female anatomy, I took home what I’d learned and tested out their theories… GERONIMO!

From that day on I have never looked back. ‘Having a wank’ has been like a best friend to me. If I’m tired, knock one out, if I’m bored, have a play, get dumped after a 3 year relationship…you guessed it. I even used to sneak off to the toilets for a quick one if there was a 10 minute lull at the bar I was working at. Now I do it to songs, try and beat my fastest record and my absolute favourite game is to see ‘how many I can fit in one night before falling asleep with my hands in my pants’ – ages 15 and up. No word of a lie, my right arm muscle is distinctly larger than my left and I put it all down to my addiction to self love.

I’ve been single now since January 2012 and nobody but myself has made me climax clitorally – is that a word? – in that time. Maybe I’m looking for guys in the wrong places these days, most obviously in my pants. Maybe I haven’t quite given the guys I do meet a fair chance to get into their mind blowing oral flow, i’ve heard it can happen. Or maybe, just maybe, nobody quite has the knack to get me off like my very own right hand…or ‘Mrs Palmer and her five lovely daughters’ as I like to call it.


Disaster Queen

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