Delilah's Diary #1: A Sexy Journey Read Free Page A

"Pussy, pussy, pussy."
    I giggled again. Saying it so many times in a row made it sound like I was calling a cat.
    I tried a sentence I'd read in my latest book: "I'm going to finger my pussy."
    That sounded better.
    I was blushing, though.
    I put one hand on my breast...I adjusted my thought: my tit —and rolled the nipple between my fingers again, and then, just for variety, flicked it, quite hard. I gasped, and felt something dampen between my legs. It felt good. Very good.
    I traced a finger along the crease of my pussy, still feeling a twinge of guilt at the nasty word. I wondered what it would feel like to put my finger inside. Would it feel like when Harry put his penis in it?
    I felt nauseous thinking of Harry, so I pushed his name from my mind, resolving to never think about him again, unless I had no other choice.
    Watching myself in the mirror, I put my hand over my pussy and dipped my middle finger into my entrance, a slow, hesitating, exploratory swipe. I felt wet, very wet, and warm, and—even to my small finger—tight. An unwilling image of Harry's penis flashed into my head, and I marveled that he'd fit in there at all, without it hurting. I remembered Marge's statement that Harry was small. What on earth would a bigger man feel like? Would it hurt? The times with Harry that I felt any pleasure at all was when he took his time, went slow, rather than just hump, grunt, and pass out. He would move inside me, and the slippery sliding, the feeling of being full...it was delightful, but it was always over too soon, just as I began to feel something building up inside my belly.
    That pressure built now, way down deep, as I toyed with my nipple. I slipped my middle finger in again, as far as I could go, up to the knuckle. Oh, that was nice. Very nice. It wasn't enough though. Summoning my courage, I slipped my index finger in with the middle one. Even better. Both fingers dipped in, stroked the entrance and feathered around the boundaries, touched the walls, and then out and up to the keyhole-like area near the very top. I found a little nub, a button. It was stiff, almost like...like a penis in miniature. I touched it with a tentative finger, and immediately my knees buckled with a rush of intense sensation the likes of which I'd never felt before, mind-blowing pleasure that had me reeling. With my knees trembling, I gripped the edge of the sink, slipping in the water puddled beneath my feet and nearly fell.
    Regaining my balance, I glanced over my shoulder at the bed, still made. I would be so much more comfortable doing this on by back, in bed. I laid down on the bed, still naked, and spread my knees apart, feeling wanton and sinful.
    One touch to the little button had made me dizzy...what would it feel like to touch it until I simply couldn't bear it any longer? Time to find out. I knew what the fold of skin was, incidentally: my clitoris. I knew my anatomy, after all. I was hopelessly sheltered, not a complete moron. But knowing anatomy, or reading about the hero of an erotica novel "laving her aching clit with his tireless tongue" was a whole different story than masturbating for the first time at the age of twenty-nine.
    I quested inward with my two brave fingers, touched my clitoris...my clit...again, and couldn't help gasping a little, just a quick intake of breath at the intensity of the feeling. More movement, then, a slow circle...oh god...why have I never done this before? The circle sped up, and then a wild pressure built up in the pit of my stomach, in the muscles of my legs and the small of my back. My hips began to flutter on their own, writhing me on the bed and lifting my spine clear of the mattress in an arch.
    I heard myself gasping, nearly hysterical little whimpers escaping my lips as I began to move my fingers around my clit in a blur, and now fire was raging through my body and the pressure was expanding in an uncontainable whirlwind and I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming because