Dangerous Curves: Naughty Little Secrets Read Free

imagined. 
    It did not happen during a steamy encounter I had the first week of school. Hiding behind the bleachers, the older boy trailing kisses down my neck while his fingers inched their way up my skirt.
    And it did not happen during one of the hurried, desperate make-out sessions that my then-boyfriend and I would squeeze in every day after school. Him, almost painfully rock-hard, moaning as his fingers played beneath my panties, stealing as much time as he could between my legs before my parents came home.
    Those two boys both tried, so diligently, to get me there, to make me come.
    But my first orgasm didn’t belong to either of them – to any man, really. It happened, instead, while I was asleep.
    I’ll never forget that moment when I woke up, from the dead of sleep, crying out in pleasure. I was in a state of dazed euphoria, unaware at first of what was even happening. There had been no sexy dream, at least nothing I remembered, but I had been jolted awake by a throbbing pleasure so intense it shocked me. I had laid there, writhing underneath the blanket, unable to keep from gasping aloud as the orgasm rolled over me. 
    Naturally, this did happen in the privacy of my own bedroom, but at a slumber party filled with half the girls in my eighth grade class.
    By the time I’d “come to,” I’d woken up the entire room. They would never let me live it down.
    “Ooh, you were having one, weren’t you?” my friend Leah had teased.
    “Look at how red her face is!” another girl had squealed with glee.
    My whole body, in fact, had become flushed. All the signs of arousal were there – my nipples were still hard, poking through my cotton nightshirt. I was also struck by sudden, desperate urge to pee.
    I tried to deny what happened. “No,” I’d said hotly. “I was just having a bad dream.”
    “Sounded like a good dream to me!”
    “Ahhh, oooooh,” Leah had moaned, leaning back and flailing in her sleeping back. “Ahhhh, it feels soooo good.”
    “I did not say any of that!” I’d insisted, but it was useless. The entire room had dissolved in a fit of giggles as they began calling out zingers at my expense.
    “She’s definitely a screamer!” one girl had said, “I bet her boyfriend loves that.”
    “No wonder he’s over there every day after school.” 
    “I bet they can hear you coming all the way next door!”  
    It went on like that for a while, until everybody settled down and the talk finally turned to dresses for the eighth grade prom. My orgasm forgotten, I was finally able to slip into the bathroom and relieve myself.   
    As I splashed water on my face, and smoothed my hair down, I reflected on how ironic it all was: here these girls all thought I had some exciting sex life, full of daily makeout sessions capped off by screaming orgasms.
    And while the first part of it was true – my eighth grade boyfriend and I “played around” almost daily – I had never once achieved that kind of pleasure from his touch.
    Most people reading this will probably say – so what? He was an eighth grade boy, what could he know about bringing a girl to ecstasy? And to some degree they would be right. We were so young then, and his hands were so inexperienced. We never experimented beyond that, never moved on to oral sex. It would be years still before I would experience the feeling of a man’s tongue between my legs.
    But that night in eighth grade is more telling than it should be.
    Because despite all the years that have come and gone between it, despite all the men who have tried – I have yet to experience that one true pleasure: No man has ever been able to make me come.
    That is my naughty little secret.
    To this day, I have only had an orgasm one way.
    Alone.
     
    It was a pretty personal article – not the sort of thing I would ever share on my blog, which I publish under my real bname. But hiding behind the moniker of “Staff Writer,” I felt surprisingly bold.
    I ran through the