At this point, dear reader, you may wonder about the state of my vagina or, as I once heard as awkward euphemism, my “marital orifice”. Recall that I was from a background where this place is considered to be reserved to the husband, for procreation, or perhaps for enjoyment if only natural contraceptive methods (read here: periodic abstinence) are used. Recall also that I had a tight hymen, to the point that using tampons was nearly impossible for me, something that my physical education teacher considered as a fake excuse to skip swimming lessons (and who would I have asked for help? my own mother considered tampons to be appropriate only for married women). In addition to physical tightness, my own apprehensions about this part of my anatomy probably induced reflexes that made the matter worse. In other words, when I met Ulrike, I was definitely not the easiest girl to finger.

I however had come to like that act. Sure, my hymen made it a bit uncomfortable, but with some habit, I had learned not to tighten myself. I had gradually eased. And, yes, I liked it. I liked Ulrike sticking a finger in, gently moving it, and eventually pressing inside on that spot that she had taught me about in her own vagina. I liked her sucking her fingers afterwards. It was an acquired taste, in several ways!

I still was pretty much a virgin in the physical sense; definitely, I would not have been able to accommodate an erect penis without some pain and damage. While Ulrike liked having two fingers inside of her, once properly lubricated, she did not attempt reciprocating. While there may be some appeal, even some romanticism, in deflowering one’s lover, she was too reasonable to cede to it: “you’re eighteen, you still have choices to make, maybe in the end you’ll like to marry a man and be a virgin for your wedding night”.

Things had however reached the point where I tried tampons again (I had a phobia of them due to painful attempts at using them to please that abusive teacher), and discovered I could in fact use them! It was even possible to do likewise Ulrike: wear one for frolicking in bed. She even licked me while I was wearing one (I had properly washed).

I don’t know if this makes sense to you, gentle reader. I must sound both like a pervert and like an innocent girl at the same time. I guess I was both.

My masturbatory habits had also changed since I met Ulrike. I previously avoided entering my vagina, from fear of damaging my hymen and because of the bad experiences I had with tampons… and of course as a consequence of my mother’s disapproval of any masturbation (when younger, I thought that external masturbation could pass undetected while penetration would undoubtedly be detected). However, with experience froclicking with Ulrike came the urge to push my own finger into me.

I seldom masturbated at Ulrike’s house, because I preferred to have my lover deal with my urges. However, when coming back to see my parents, I would masturbate at night thinking of Ulrike. How ironic I pushed a finger into me and dreamed it was Ulrike’s when I was staying in the very same bedroom in which I had been threatened with a spanking with the carpet-beater for touching my clitoris!