With the New York Mets in the World Series I just had to share this post from an older friend (who wishes to remain anonymous) about the first she masturbated.

The New York Met’s were in the World Series. It had to have been the late 1960s. I don’t think they ever were in the World Series before. A once in a lifetime event.My parents were not TV people. Or sports people. They read newspapers and drank.  I was sent to bed. My brother had also been sent to bed but he had a transistor radio. I was under the cool floral sheets with the fan on high (back in the pre A/C days for most folks in suburbia). I felt wet between my legs.Was it so hot that I was sweating? No. I thought maybe I had peed. I reached down and could feel the warm liquid. Hmm… that’s weird. Did I have an accident? I felt around and the juice increased. Was I peeing on my fingers? I pulled my hand out and sniffed my index finger. What was that smell? I bravely licked my wet pointer finger. It was salty but although I had never tasted urine, I was sure it was not. My hand went back to this mysterious source of moisture when my brother came running into my bedroom, the Met’s had scored, My hands were down my thick, white cotton panties.


Even though every light on the upstairs level of our split-level house was off I was sure he saw what I was doing. He was older than me. I must have known I was doing something bad. Something weird.Soemthing dirty. Something I would surely get in trouble for. I waited for him to question me, to tease me, to report me to my mother, but he never did. And I never did what I did that night again. The Mets were my ticket to my budding sexuality and also the end of my sexual experimenting for close to a decade.


My brother grew up and moved away to college. Years later, when I moved west to go to college, I was dying to order a masturbation book from the Book of the Month Club. Still embarrassed,  I ordered a bunch of books so the masturbation book wouldn’t stand out. I was going to learn how to really masturbate and have an orgasm. It took that book and a lot of hard work but I finally did. Over and over again. Sometimes when I’m alone I can still hear the tinny sound of my brother’s transistor radio and the crowd dheering.