Seventeen

by Nikki Peck

Image credits ↓
In Xconfessions we are thrilled to feature images from new pioneers of sexual imagery. We are not the owners of all images on this site, and owners are credited where they could be found. If you are an artist who would like to credit their work, or is interested in featuring your work on the XCONFESSIONS site, please email photo@xconfessions.com. If you are the owner or model of this photo, and would like it removed from the site, please also email the above address.

Comments by Erika Lust

This is an extra special confession! Submitted by Nikki Peck, (or Nikki Pecasso), one of the artists illustrating your XC stories! She illustrated it herself with the image you see, and this confession was written by her sister and given to her to share with us! Thank you Nikki <3

By my sister, Holly Peck:

On a temperate day in August my sister told me she had never orgasmed. She was seventeen,

and had been intimate with previous partners. Something, she confided, was blocking her ability

to revel in her own sexual liberation - to feel herself and the budding woman curves of her

sensuality. She felt ashamed and embarrassed.

I was shocked — initially — then angry. “What?” I yelled, taking hold of right arm and looking

deeply into her eyes. “But I thought that time in Italy?” “Nope,” she replied, defeatedly.

That afternoon we rode the bus to The Art Of Loving, a quaint but well-known sex shop in

Vancouver’s west side. Trepidatiously, she browsed aisles flanked with plastic cocks, curiously

examining oddly shaped butt plugs before slotting them back into their plastic display supports. I

talked to the store owner casually, half-perusing a magazine about pleasing the tip of your lover

with your tongue. After a nervous twenty minutes, my sister settled on her prize: a purple, 4”

vibrating dildo. A few weeks later — from a more seasoned, masturbatory vantage point — she

would realize she had accidentally bought a butt plug.

We rode the bus home. Nikki looked out the window, painfully self-aware. She explained the

experience was exhausting. When we got home, she went upstairs to take a bath.

An hour later, she came downstairs in a housecoat. Her face was red — her eyes a graveyard

of tears. She hugged me and cried.

Her voice broke. “I came,” she said. I hugged her back harder.

 
Your Comments ↓
  1. Jeannie_HW4 says:

    Very nicely done.

Leave a Reply