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When they were first married, they lived a normal life.

.. cunt - there, I've said it... as far as my cunt was concerned.

Cunt, cunt, now I kept thinking about it - about the word. We used it far more often as an obscenity than as a word to describe our vaginas. We called people "cunts" when we were upset or angry with them, boys especially - strange that, we called girls "bitches" mostly, and boys were "cunts".

Cunt, I couldn't get it out of my mind. I had a cunt, not a vagina, not a pussy - I had a cunt. Under the bedclothes, up under my pyjama top and down inside my pyjama panties, my hand wandered down my belly almost of it's own accord and I found my "cunt". I lifted the covers and raised my head off the pillow to look down at myself. I pulled the waistband of my pyjama bottoms away from my belly. Hello cunt, I thought to myself, though all I could see was my pubic hair.

I was soooo horny I had to do something. My head fell back and I closed my eyes, letting the covers fall but my hand remained on my bush.

I pressed against the tangle of my pubic hairs, reached further and grasped with all my fingers and squeezed and pulled upwards at the bit down below, where my tampax went in, between my labia. I knew all the names from our sex education lessons. I explored my cunt lips, probing between them - where was my clitoris? I knew I was supposed to have one, and it did magic things when you rubbed it. I didn't get that entirely from my sex education lessons but that's what some of the girls said.

Had Graham found it when I let him touch me up a bit last summer? I don't think so because there was nothing magic about that incident. It started to hurt when he tried to push a finger up me and I stopped him and let him go back to feeling my tits. It was all a bit mechanical.

I don't masturbate very often, maybe once a month - usually when Janey stays over or I go to her house. Janey seems to do it all the time. I like it best when I rub just at the top of my cunt, mostly on the outside just occasionally rubbing down over the softness of my labia and maybe slipping my middle finger just into my vagina. Janey likes to stick a finger right up, and once - to my eternal shame - she persuaded me to do it for her a couple of years ago, just to "finish her off", she said. She loved it, just lay back with her eyes closed and legs wide open with her knees up, arms on the pillow above her head, occasionally bringing her hands down rubbing her tits under her tee shirt, then down to rub her cunt a bit, just above my knuckles, above where my finger went in. She kept holding onto my hand, making me push my finger in and out.

There was no mistaking the moment when she had an orgasm, she lifted her hips off the bed and started to sort of buck up and down. She squeezed her eyes shut, and with her mouth wide open started to grunt and pant and cry out. I remember I pressed my other hand over her mouth to stop the noise from coming out. I was terrified my parents would hear and come in to see what was going on. Her eyes flew open and she looked straight at me but she didn't try and take my hand away from her mouth or anything but she was still moaning and grunting and I could feel the "buzzing" of the muffled noises against my palm and the sharp snorts of her breath blowing out of her nostrils, quite cool against the back of my hand. I started to take my finger out of her cunt but she became agitated and moaned even louder and put her own hands on mine to push it back in. She closed her eyes again and continued to buck up and down, still pressing my hand hard against her mound and keeping my middle finger buried deep inside her.

She made me keep my finger in for ages, even when she'd stopped moaning and thrashing about.

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