I remember, as snoopy little boy of ten, sitting at my 18 year-old sister's dressing table on the little stool, while she was out at high school, and being enthralled by all her feminine things, her lipsticks, foundation, jewelry, perfumes, hair sparays, deodorants, hairpins, combs and hairbrush. I loved the smells of all these things and the whole atmosphere of sitting in front of the mirror in that mysterious feminine place. I was younger, and she was 18. The only thing that felt like it, for strangeness and being a place that made me feel reverent, was the sacristy in our local church, where I was an altar boy. That was a very different place, austere and masculine and more minimalist - everything was inside mahogany drawers and there was no mirror, just a big bare table that the priest used to lay out his vestments. I had been alone in that place too, when I would arrive early to serve morning mass, but it gave me a sense of awe and power, almost fear. On the other hand, my sister's dressing table was a place of warmth and comfort. I loved the smell, the quietness and holding each her her things in turn, feeling them, smelling everything individually, and then carefully putting them back so that she would not notice I had distubed anything. There were drawers in her dressing table too, and they slid open silently and smoothly. In these drawrs were her panties, her handkerchiefs, her stockings, her bras. I ,oved the lightness of her garments, the frilliness and the softness. I would hold things to my cheek and experience them that way. One afternoon, deving into her panty drawer, at the back I flet an object. It was a hairbrush very much of a simlar design to yours - with the curved handle and those same bristles. I was surprised as I had not seen it before, and she already had a brush on her dressing table which she loved using on her long hair. When I picked it up and as suaul smelled it to get the smell of her hair, there was no perfumed odour. Instead the brush smelled musky, different, and so did the handle. I put the curved handle in my mouth and sucked it. I don't know what instinct made me do that, but when I did, the musky smell became more powerful and I felt strange. I knew there was something sexy and naughty about this, but not exactly why I was feeling horny. I was already a masturbator, I had learned about polegasm while climbing a goalpost with a friend the previous year. I had learned to recreate the sensation in bed by humping the sheets. But I hadn't told anyone about this and had no idea that girls could get these feelings too. I had thought I was the only one with this guilty pleasure secret. I visited her room more often after that, and always ended with that brush, then went off to masturbate. One day, visiting a friend who was a year older, he and I sneaked into his older sister's room and he showed me a strange thing she had hidden in her dressing table. It was a small white vibrator, about 5 inches long, with ridges along its lenght and coming to a blunt point. At the flat end there was a screw cap that opened and inside were to batteres. Then he told mw he often listened at her door at night when she would switch it on and he could hear the low buzz, and hear her gasping and panting. He had walked in and caught her, and she had been mad at him for doing it, but she had to explain to him because he had seen her fucking herself with it, naked on the bed, nothing left to imagunation. She told him that girls got pleasure from doing this but that it was a secret and not to tell their parents. At that moment, I realised that my sister must be using that second hairbrush instead of a vibrator. I told my friend that, and then I also told him about my polegasm, and we went to the sports field and I showed him how, and then he tried it and it worked for him too. We were friends for life after that. Anothe year on and I started to change, and learned about male jacking off as a masturbation method - though I didn't enjoy it as much as humping or climbing at first. I still snuck in to my sister's room when she was home from univesity in the summer, and eventually I found a real vibrator in her drssing table too. But nothing can compare to the magic of the first dscovery of her "spare hairbrush". Thank you for a really sexy scne that evoked all these memories! Can you share your own feminine masturbation journey?