In a previous post on 8th January 2014, I talked about masturbation and how it became a daily part of my partner-less life when I got to university. You can find the ‘Stimmers‘ post by clicking the word.
At the end of that post I mentioned, with four of my university girlfriends, we actually had a hen party for one of the girls and it ended up as a group masturbation party.
During sexual conversations we all discovered we had sex toys, even though they were not that easy to buy in the late sixties.
I had a vibrating dildo shaped like a boy’s penis. Susan and Sally had smooth vibrators. Peggy had a large penis shaped dildo with a reservoir for squirting water and the bride to be, Mary, had a mains plug in massager. We agreed to bring them all along on the hen night and went to a club in the centre of Manchester called Tiffany’s.
[The image shows a massager similar to Mary’s, but more modern. Hers had a longer handle with a bend in it to help reach your back etc.]
We were all dressed to kill in late sixties gear – boots or knee length socks, very short dresses and chunky jewellery. My dress was wonderfully psychedelic and Peggy’s was so short she had to keep her legs crossed if she sat down.
I remember thinking Tiffany’s was very swish at the time, but thinking back it was probably quite tacky as there were artificial tropical plants everywhere, plastic parrots and so on. I suppose they were trying to recreate a tropical paradise and although I would hate it now, I was impressed at the time.
We had a meal there and I recall it was the first time I’d had a char-grilled steak and it gave me a taste for it which has lasted a lifetime. Can’t remember what the others had, but we sloshed back some Champagne and cocktails and had a great time dancing together to the live band.
We sat down after one rather energetic dance and some boys, three I think, came up to the table and asked if some of us would like to dance. All of us were pretty, slim and sexy so must have looked like fair game to them. All except Mary, reached into our bags, looked at the boys and said, “We’ve got boyfriends. Can’t you see them?” and laughed.
Well, of course, one of the lads asked, “Where?”
At which point we all pulled out our vibrators and waved them in the air and chorused, “Here,” in a cascade of laughter. Needless to say the boys went away, but I do remember Sally, I think, saying, “Shame, the dark one was pretty fit.”
We laughed if she went and got him she could use him instead of a vibrator later.
Sally and Susan shared a flat and suggested we all go back there to continue the fun and Mary bought a couple more bottles of Champagne to take with us. I ought to point out the wedding was still about a week off so any hangover was not going to cause her a problem. I think the hen night was a Saturday.
We piled into a taxi and arrived at the flat in West Didsbury about ten and filled a plastic bucket with as much ice as the fridge held and stuck the Champagne in to chill, opening one of them for a glass each to get things going.
Their lounge in the middle floor of an extensive Victorian house was large, about five metres by six and Sally pushed back the sofas and we all sat on an enormous rug and began chatting. Soon enough the subject of sex came up and it didn’t take long before Peggy pulled out her vibrator and asked, “Well, are we game to use them, girls?” and opened her legs and started rubbing it against her crotch.
We all laughed and Sally or Susan said, “Yeah, why not, but not dressed like this,” and she stood up, lifted her dress over her head, shed her bra, tights and panties and by the time she had got that far, Mary and Susan were stripping off, too.
I hadn’t stripped off in front of anyone since school gym, but, well in the mood, was soon naked and we all sat, cross legged on the rug with vibrators in hand, except Mary who had to get Sally to fetch an extension for her massager. The scene must have been one any boy would dream of coming across – although maybe ‘coming’ wasn’t the best terminology for the situation!
[I found this image on the web. It is not us, but we were equally nubile!]
“Let’s test them and give marks out of ten,” said Sally.
“OK, Angie’s first ‘cos it looks most realistic. Who is going to start it off?” said Peggy.
We all looked at each other rather timidly despite the alcohol. As it was my dildo they’d chosen, I volunteered, switched it on and pressed it against my clit.
“Wait, wait,” called Mary and she said, “I think we all ought to use our own vibrators on each other in turn as we know what’s best with them.”
“How does that work?” I asked, a bit nervous about someone else using a vibrator on me.
“Right, you get yourself going a bit with yours and each of us takes a turn to use ours on you,” suggested Mary.
I hadn’t really expected the evening to go like this, but it all seemed very harmless so I nodded and continued to stimulate myself with my dildo.
“You wet yet?” Sally asked and I nodded.
Susan had left the room and returned with some KY jelly lubricant and asked if I needed any, which, of course, I never did normally, so I said I was OK and Sally came around to my right, removed my hand and started moving her shiny vibrator up and down my vulva and pushed it into my vagina, which I wasn’t expecting. How strange to have someone masturbating your vagina for you. Someone who was only a friend. Someone who was a girl. I must admit it was a great intimate feeling and she moved it in and out then pressed it against my clit. What made it interesting was she did it differently from how I did it to myself and I began to realise there are no rules about how to use a vibrator.
“Points?” she demanded after a couple of minutes.
It was OK and slipped in and out of me easier than mine, but the realism was pretty poor. The vibes were about the same as mine.
“Five,” I said and Mary wrote it down. ‘Silver Vibe 5.’
Susan replaced Sally and she used her gold vibrator on me. This was definitely more powerful, felt good inside me and I gave it a seven.
Peggy brought over her large penis dildo and switched it on. It had several settings and made quite a lot of noise. She pressed it first against my clit and next against my vagina and I remember thinking, ‘God it’s big. Is she going – ,’ but before I could finish the thought it was inside me. Too big. Didn’t like it, but she moved it in and out as I leaned back and squeezed the balls of it and I felt a jet of warm water shoot into me and collapsed in a fit of giggles causing everyone to start giggling, too, and shouted, “Seven again. Too big! Nice squirt though!” and we all fell about laughing once more.
Finally Mary came over with her massager and extension. It was about fifteen inches long overall with a large circular head probably four inches in diameter which was made of red plastic. She said it was infra-red too, but she was only using the vibrating option.
I opened my thighs wider and remember looking at all the faces staring at my vulva. Totally weird. All these smiling girls’ faces staring at my sex. She pressed the head against my clit and, my God, it was absolutely brilliant, but being so large, it couldn’t be used to pull my own lubrication out of my vulva and I quickly stopped her and shouted, “lube, lots of it,” and Susan squirted a large dollop of icy cold KY onto my clit and the massager was applied again.
“Well? Points?” asked Sally who was now holding the notepad.
It felt brilliant and I said, “Not yet. Mary keep it there. Little circles please,” and she began to move it in small circles hard against my clitoris’ prepuce.
I felt the pressure building rapidly, called out, “Don’t stop, don’t stop!” and came with a lovely ten or fifteen pulse orgasm. It had only taken minutes. My clitoris felt sore for a minute and I pushed her massager away and tried to calm my breathing and several of them said, “Points?”
“Ten, fucking ten,” I shouted and everyone laughed, while I attempted to recover.
Anyway, we all had a go at the points and Mary’s massager beat the others by miles, but my own came a fair second and Peggy’s batteries gave up the ghost, but we could still ejaculate the water into the victim which gave us great fun until it started to be used as a water pistol and the whole thing deteriorated into a laughing match.
[When I look back on this we were all taking a huge risk with STIs, but no one worried too much about it in ’69/’70. VD, or venereal disease as it was known then, was something passed on by prostitutes to middle-aged men.]
The massager was too powerful for anyone to keep on them for too long and Susan went and got another two vibrators and we sat in a circle with each of us using a vibrator on the neighbour to our left. Very strange to be applying yourself to a quim on your left while someone was thrusting a vibrator into your own vagina.
Mary’s massager was used by all for extra orgasms and we all had several. After my third or fourth I clearly recall looking around at all the smiling faces and realising what a wonderful thing sex is. None of us were gay, as far as I know, but we were really enjoying stimulating each other in this party mood.
After two hours of non-stop masturbation of each other we were finally satisfied and I remember asking Mary, “You won’t need that massager after the wedding. Can I have it?” which got a good laugh from everyone else who shouted, “no me!” more or less in unison.
Mary, herself, said, “I was thinking of calling the whole thing off and going on the Italian honeymoon with the massager. I could afford twice as long with it if I left Mark at home,” and we all laughed again.
Well that is the group masturbation story I promised. Peter was extremely hot for me to tell it and I wouldn’t let him read the draft, so he has got it the same time as the rest of our subscribers.
No doubt I’ll soon find out how much it turned him on.
We still haven’t missed making love or giving each other orgasms any day since we started the blog so if it is having even half that effect on our readers, please click some of the ‘like’ buttons.