Masturbation Experiences Recounted by a Second-Year College Student

I'm a sophomore in college. I consider myself a precocious girl. I'm not quite sure how precocious, but I started masturbating in sixth grade. It started with an unusual sensation during a shower, and after that, my mom never had to remind me to shower again. In middle school, the frequency of masturbation gradually increased, progressing from external touching to internal exploration. I don't even know when my hymen broke, but I'm sure I broke it myself in middle school.

The summer after my college entrance exam, I relaxed a lot. That urge became stronger and stronger. I even thought about having a relationship, maybe even having sex with a boyfriend. But I didn't dare. I'm a rather conservative girl. Boys these days are all bad; some tell everyone about what happened between them. One of my female classmates did that, and later the whole class knew she had a sexual history. So I didn't dare do that; I just hid in my room and did it secretly.

But the urge was uncontrollable. I went online, specifically searching for websites about sex, and often masturbated while reading posts. Later, I saw a post on a forum about female masturbation. The post claimed that filling a condom with milk powder, tying the opening tightly with string, inserting it, and then moving around or riding a bicycle would create the same feeling as real sex. To be honest, I've masturbated for many years, and while I experience that elation each time, it's always followed by a profound emptiness. Every time I masturbate, I crave real sex, wanting to experience what it truly feels like.

Seeing this post really made me want to try it. I wanted to experience real sex. The post was written by a girl, who claimed it was her own experience, and the comments included others who had used it and said it was very effective. This made me even more eager.

But where could I get condoms? I couldn't just buy them myself; it would be too embarrassing. Two days passed, and I couldn't shake the thought. I finally made up my mind: I'd go buy them myself!

I still clearly remember the scene. I put on a sun hat and sunglasses, pulling the hat down low. After changing buses three times, feeling it was impossible to run into anyone I knew again, I finally stopped in front of a small pharmacy. My heart raced again as I went inside. I looked around, but didn't see any condoms. The clerk asked what I wanted, and in my panic, I blurted out "Grass Coral" (a type of herbal lozenge). I didn't even hear what she said before she handed me a box of "Grass Coral" lozenges. I had no choice but to pay. When she gave me my change, I asked in a barely audible voice, "Do you have condoms?" "Yes, which kind do you want?" she replied, her voice surprisingly loud. I had no idea how many kinds they had. I said anything was fine, and she handed me a box, saying it was ten yuan. Without even looking, I gave her ten yuan, grabbed the box, and turned to leave.

Outside the pharmacy, my heart was pounding, and my face was burning. I went to a quiet corner, crumpled the box into a ball, and tossed it away. This had to be disposed of; I absolutely couldn't bring it home—my mom would go crazy if she saw it. Because I acted too quickly and was nervous, from the moment I grabbed the box of condoms from the pharmacy to the moment I threw it away, I didn't even check what brand it was. So when problems arose later, I even wondered if the salesperson had given me a counterfeit product. Only after throwing away the box did I realize there were ten condoms inside, not one. Should I take them all home or keep only one? Throwing them away seemed like such a waste; I'd gone through so much trouble to buy them. But if I kept them, I wouldn't be able to use them all at once. Where should I hide them? What if my family found out? I thought about it all the way home, but couldn't figure out what to do. To be honest, I just felt it was such a waste to throw them away; I was a little reluctant. I'd gotten them after such a nerve-wracking experience. But when I got home, I made up my mind. Safety first; I absolutely couldn't bring them home. So, I circled around a trash can not far from my house, looking left and right, front and back, and when I didn't find any "enemy" (condoms), I kept one and threw the rest into the trash can.

I finally breathed a sigh of relief after getting home. I checked the time, making sure my parents wouldn't be back anytime soon, locked my bedroom door, gathered the necessary formula, spoons, and string, and went back to my room, locking my own door. Only then did I relax and begin the process, which I knew by heart…

With a flushed face and a burning heat, I carefully prepared the device, inserting it cautiously, ready to experience a sensation comparable to real sex. But I was disappointed; I didn't experience anything more special or pleasurable than usual. I wondered if my method was wrong, so I tried twisting and increasing the speed as suggested in an online post. Still, there was no good feeling. When I considered trying to go outside and ride a bicycle, as the post suggested, I felt a sharp, dry, gripping pain inside, which intensified. I dared not move anymore. I tried to pull the device out with the string, only to discover that the condom had broken inside! I had only managed to pull out a torn condom!

I rushed to the bathroom and washed myself with water. I saw a milky substance flowing out. I was terrified and in excruciating pain. After this incident, I never doubted the method itself. I kept thinking that I might have done something wrong—maybe I added too much formula, tied it too tightly, or the condom was defective, or my twisting technique was incorrect.

I went back to the forum and found the post again, wanting to ask what had happened. I sent a private message to the original poster, and to my surprise, she replied quickly. But her reply infuriated me: "You idiot, I was just kidding!"

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Masturbation Experiences Recounted by a Second-Year College Student

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