When I was a little girl I was very creative at playtime. I had a funny habit of sticking different objects down my swimsuit during the summertime. Not for any sexual reason, just to be silly. That’s what I thought at the time, anyway. Now I realize I was a naturally horny, exploring child.

One day I was in the yard playing with the garden hose. We weren’t rich enough to have a swimming pool. Poor kids like me played with the hose. If we were lucky, we’d have a little plastic wading pool, like you get at Kmart. Otherwise, the hose was it if you wanted to cool off.

The sun was so hot one day…it seemed to come out of a blast furnace…the water gushing from the hose was incredibly cooling, so inviting. It seemed a logical idea to stick the hose down the front of my swimsuit bottoms. Why not? Wouldn’t that feel good to you too on a hot day? I’m sure it would. The water was turned up to maximum, or at least as high as the water pressure would allow it to go. Giggling with girlish enthusiasm, I stuck the hose far down into my tiny swimsuit. I was around seven years old at the time. Lucky me.

At first, the only sensation was the marvelous feeling of the ice cold water against my hot skin, splashing this way and that. Hmmmmmmm, childhood memories don’t get any better than that. Or do they? Suddenly, something hit me unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Not quite pleasure, almost like pain, but what a very VERY nice pain. The forceful water was dancing around something, somewhere down there. But what? I removed the hose quickly from my swimsuit bottom, as if I’d touched a hot stove, my hands shaking, trying to determine the cause of what had just happened. I directed the hose water against my leg. Nope. That wasn’t it. Against my tummy. Nope, not there. It’s lower? But what? Or where?

Slowly, slyly, cautiously, I looked around to make sure no one was watching. My brain instinctively warned me that what I was doing wasn’t quite “proper” and I might get in big trouble, but I still hadn’t located the source of the pleasure/pain or whatever it was. I moved a bit out of range from the side of the house where there were windows. My mother watched me like a hawk when I was outside, so there was very little I could do that went unnoticed as a child. But I was determined this new playtime activity would continue or I’d die trying. No one and nothing could stop me, if I had to risk everything! I had no shame or pride at that point.

Once again, I put the gushing hose down my swimsuit bottoms. This time, I directed it right between my legs and UMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, that’s it! I held the hose steady, quite steady, as my little child’s legs trembled, literally vibrating with the agonizingly delicious sensations of the rushing, gushing cold water on my bottom. I was standing, somewhat hunched over, my long blond hair falling across my face, my breath coming in heavy pants.

I moved the water around a bit, the feelings becoming too intense at one point to stand any longer. Then I’d move it back to the “mystery spot” that felt sooooooooooooooo good.
After a few minutes of this wonderful torture, the sensation began to change into an almost fiery burning explosion. I wanted to move the water away, but the longer I held it on my crotch, the higher and hotter and better the feelings got. I knew something big was going to happen….something unlike anything my young, tender body had ever experienced before. But what?

The spasms that washed over me almost caused me to feel like blacking out or fainting, it was that strong. Ugh, ohh ohh, UMMMM ARGHHHHH……I let out a mindless, animal groan, by that time no longer aware of my surroundings, my eyes closed in ecstasy. If I’d been caught and asked what I was doing, I wouldn’t have known what to say. No one and nothing mattered. Not home, not morals, not mommy and daddy, not friends, not family,……just pure SENSATION. My mind spun.

I literally would have killed to have that feeling again and again and again. It was like a rush of heroin. A narcotic turn on. For a child, that’s a big thing to cope with, to process through a child’s mental computer.

After the spasms of intense pleasure (beyond pleasure), had subsided, the water rushing on the funny spot hurt like hell. I knew the playtime was over and I had to remove the hose or my little bottom (that’s what my mother called my pussy, my “bottom”), would be blasted into infinity. The pleasurable sensations could not be sustained directly on the “mystery place” once it went past a certain point. How odd. I would think and wonder about that for quite awhile. For several years actually.

Feeling completely drained, sapped of energy, my legs hardly able to hold me up, I staggered over to the hose spigot and turned the water off. Looking around again, like a criminal, I wondered if anyone had seen me, or heard anything. I knew I’d let out a groan, a big one. But my mind was so far gone by that time, I didn’t know exactly what had happened. I was scared and incredibly excited, as well as happy at the same time. Wow, I thought, who would have known that a hose down your pants could do THAT?

The next day dawned sunny, hot and bright. Another full day of summertime fun, nothing to do but play, run and jump. I had hardly been able to sleep the night before, reliving again and again my intense experience. In my child’s mind, I thought the hose was somehow magic. Or maybe that particular hose was somehow special. Or that hoses in general brought magical feelings and delights. At seven, I was too young to really understand that it was connected to ME, my own anatomy, something on MY body, and not the hose. But that’s the way little kids think. The weird perception of a young, innocent little girl, being sexually awakened by a strange, accidental, outside force. The garden hose.

I made a plan. I was quite certain, even though I didn’t know why or how, that I was doing something naughty. Very naughty. Amazing how society already instills in the littlest young minds a sense of shame, of dirtiness, about something entirely natural and healthy. I had no name at that young age for what had happened to my body, between my legs. I could not name it or even speak about it. I didn’t have a word or a language to describe pure sensation. But still I knew it was naughty and could earn me a hard spanking. or at the very least, a stern lecture that I probably wouldn’t even understand.
I knew mommy and daddy would take the hose away from me and watch the hose closely from then on if they found out about my games. They’d forbid me to go anywhere near the hose ever again. I couldn’t have that!

Getting back to the plan. We had a big old yellow bucket in the garage that daddy used to wash the car with. I made an excuse to get it and fill it with water, kind of like a small pool, just big enough for me to sit in. I was so small, my little butt fit right into it, like a mini pool. . But I had something else in mind for my wading bucket, oh yes.
Sitting in the bucket, my bottom submerged somewhat, I was able to stick the hose down in there and it would look as if I were merely filling the bucket with more water or messing around. I was no longer standing, which helped hide my real activities – stimulating myself secretly, just out of sight, with the hose. That way, I could still be in the yard, having my fun, without raising suspicions.

This plan worked so well that at one point my mother stuck her head out the door and looked right at me, the hose in the bucket, me in the bucket, and smiled a motherly smile. “You okay honey? Mommy’s right here if you need anything!”

“I’m fine, Mommy, thank you! I’m just wading!”

Obviously, she saw nothing out of place or wrong about the hose in the bucket trick. It had worked. I slowly learned how to tease myself with this unreal sensation. God damn, this was better than Disneyland. Put the hose on, put it off. Put it on, put it off. I’d keep that up until the ultimate feeling hit like a jackhammer and I had to stop and turn it off. On, off. On off. I learned to draw it out, sustain it, the warm sun beaming on my face, no one but me knowing that electric white hot feelings were jolting through my young body.
Amazing that even at that young age, I had already learned to tease and torment my body, testing the limits of my own arousal, just as a grown woman who has learned all the sophisticated tricks and teasing techniques of masturbation and self-pleasure. Perhaps the mind learns fast, how to play these games? Or was I just a fast learner?

Even the mailman came into the yard while this was going on. “Hello young lady! Having a nice time in that water? Looks like you’ve got yourself a nice little pool there!”

Ah yes, the deception, the feelings, the fun. Summertime. Every chance I got, I plopped myself in my magic yellow bucket, hose firmly down between my legs, water rushing. Legs spasming. I’d control my groans of pleasure, biting my lip and trying to make it look like I was intensely laughing about something in the yard. HA HA HA.. I sure was.

I prayed the summer would last forever, because there certainly wasn’t a garden hose in the house. The magical thing happening could only happen outside, with a hose, in a bucket. Right? But summer does end, and that one ended too.

My water explorations didn’t pick up again until I was around 10 years old. I still had never heard the word “orgasm” or if I had, was completely clueless that I had gotten my first orgasm at age 7 with the garden hose. That might be unbelievable to some people, but it’s true.

I spent three frustrating years trying to forget the experience, push it from my little girl mind. But I never forgot, and often wondered what it had been about. How could I possibly forget? It was too strong. Too amazing. Water. Hose. Rushing water. One day in the shower (again, a hot summer day), I was naked and enjoying the cool water running down my 10 year-old body. Water, water everywhere. It seemed to be a recurring sexual theme.

I was undeveloped, smooth, no titties….my “bottom” still hairless like a baby’s butt. The shower was in a part of the house I loved – cool, right off a main master bedroom. It was always so peaceful and quiet there. The light seemed to filter through one particular window in a dreamy way that made me want to relax, made me feel sensuous and horny, even though I still didn’t know what “horny” even meant.

Being a smart child and longing to re-enact the feelings from the garden hose, I began putting two and two together. If water coming out of the hose hitting my virginal bottom could make that mystery spot feel sooooooooo good, why wouldn’t water from the shower do the same thing? Unfortunately, our shower didn’t have an attachment on it – the water came directly from the shower head. But there was no stopping this horny and sexually creative little girl. I was determined to get my satisfaction one way or another.

I turned the shower on full force – one particular jet seemed to be coming out harder and more straight than the others. Positioning my pussy (still calling it my “bottom” from the way mommy always said it)….I spread open my bottom and lined myself up with one jet of hissing water. I didn’t even know what I was lining up….just knew I HAD to try to make myself have a buzzy feeling there again. That’s what I started calling it: my buzzy bottom feeling.

My heart was pounding as I put myself under the stream of water. Would it work? Would it fail? Was I doomed to never have the rush of feelings and deep stimulating excitement that I had with the hose? At first, I thought it hadn’t worked…..but….wait…..WAIT…OHHHHHHHH GODDDDDDDDDDDDD YESSSSSSSSSSSSS, it hit the mystery spot….UMMMMMMMMMMM, HELP…..
OH MY GOD HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME, IT WORKS IT WORKS IT WORKS….

I can still vividly recall my shower success. I was thrilled to know that I didn’t need a hose, or to be outside, to have the explosion in my puss…..now I could do it INSIDE the house, and could take a shower every single day without anyone being suspicious! I could march off to my lovely shower, a secret, sly grin on my girlish 10 year old face, and no one would ever know the womanly pleasures I was experiencing, as the water beat beat beat down on my nude pink pussy. I’d get off spreading open my lips, seeing how glistening they looked in the shower water, beads of water splashing everywhere as it hit the “mystery spot”.

I’d hold steady, standing as still as possible, legs quivering and barely able to hold me up, just as when I was 7 years old, in the yard. Sometimes I was afraid I might slip, as I bucked and spasmed in the slippery shower, the waves of orgasm crashing into my young snatch. I’d watch myself and look down, getting turned on by the sight of myself, holding myself open for the flood of water. At times, I worried that I might be doing myself some damage. What if the water was going up inside me? Did the water have germs? Could I get sick? I was completely alone with my shower ritual. I couldn’t tell anyone. What would I say? “I make water go on a special place on my bottom until it feels so good I have an attack and want to explode?” I don’t think so……………………

I was still too young, too naive and innocent, to relate any of this to sex, men, or lovemaking. This just felt good, whatever it was. It wasn’t until I was around 13 or so, and read a description of an orgasm in a dirty book I found somewhere, that I realized that’s what I was having! Oh! It’s an orgasm! I was shocked to figure this out for myself. At least, it sounded like what I was feeling. At first, I doubted that I was cuming. How could that be? I thought only grown women had cums by having sex with men. With a man’s penis going in and out, right? As I learned many years later, even a little girl of 3 can cum if stimulated.

I never missed an opportunity to have a shower climax. It was rare that I’d step into a shower and not stick myself under the rushing water. The highlight of my day. If I’d had a lousy day at school or an argument with my mom, I knew the shower would relax me in more ways than one! I was gradually beginning to understand just exactly what this was and what I was really doing. I was orgasming. I also began to have fantasies while the water hit me. Different scenes would play out in my mind, but I wasn’t thinking of boys or men while doing it. I was mainly thinking about my own pussy, how it looked, how naughty and secretive I was with my little shower game, and how weirdly sexual it all made me feel.

By 16, I had learned a new water game. I liked to take baths as well as showers. They were more leisurely, more sensuous. I liked to pamper myself and soak. Although it was a bit more difficult, I positioned myself under the bathtub faucet, scooching my butt down to the end of the tub, sticking my legs in the air against the bathtub wall. and letting the huge rush of forceful bathtub water hit my clit and pussy. I usually came like a raging beast in 30 seconds or a minute with that technique. I learned to adjust the water spigots , cold and hot, with my feet and toes if the temperature fluctuated slightly. I didn’t like having to reach up with my hands to adjust anything once my ass was in orgasm position.
Yes, I was a real expert.

I chuckle every time I walk through a bathroom remodeling store and there’s all the jacuzzi tubs everywhere. I know what all the women are doing with THOSE. “Oh honey, let’s get one with jets, my back hurts!” Yeah, right. We all know what those yummy jets of water are really for. Lining your cunts up to hit just the right spot. Ummmmmmmm, yeah, ladies. I KNOW. And if your husband/boyfriend didn’t know by now, he does after reading this!

I was lucky because I learned early about the joys of cuming. Lucky number seven. A climaxing 7 year-old. By the time I lost my virginity, I’d already orgasmed hundreds of times in the shower. Little did my boyfriend know LOL………..well, we won’t tell, will we?
Wouldn’t want him knowing that the garden hose got to me before he did…..It’ll be our special secret. Water, water, everywhere!

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