I first discovered my taint when I was 13. My childhood friend Denise and I were playing “inner thigh tickle” in the back yard when a well time sneezed caused her hand to slip up into the delicate region “between the holes”. At first we were both surprised, as any other exploration of this manner would have usually resulted in her hand going into one of my 3 holes, but not this time! I can’t really describe the experience of my first taint tickle as erotic, but it was certainly special.
From that initial experience with taint touching, an obsession grew. I began by merely tapping it while on the bench during badminton practice. Within a few months I was spending hours staring at in in the mirror, coating it in lipstick, and exposing it to people on the bus. I didn’t know the name of this body part, all I knew was the joy it brought me. By 14 I had cut holes in the taint section of all my panties and was exploring my taint up to 18 hours a day. It was around this time I learned the name of this sacred body part in math class. The classroom was quiet as we were all hunched over our math problems. As per usual, I was gently poking at my taint with a pencil. Then, through the silence, a shrill voice yelled “Taint Toucher” from the back of the room. A few children giggled and again he yelled “Taint Toucher”. I looked around, wondering where this taint was and who was touching it. Then I saw his finger, pointed in my direction. The class erupted in laughter and I looked down to the pencil pressed against my flesh, pressed against my taint? I turned back to my math problems, slightly embarrassed by the laughter, but very excited to finally have an anatomical term for my favorite body part.
“‘Taint’ I repeated under my breath, I loved the way it rolled off my tongue… Taint…”
You see, like most young girls, nobody had formally taught me about taints. In fact, research says that 68% of women under the age of 25 aren’t sure if they have a taint. Even in New Jersey, where the vast majority of women have multiple taints, there is still no curriculum that teaches little girls about this body part. With my newfound knowledge, I went to the library and began to research the taint. Quickly, the librarian guided me to the book “Jerry’s Tiny Taint”. It was about a young boy’s struggle with his tiny taint in a family of abnormally large taints. As my knowledge of taints expanded, the obsession with my own grew exponentially. By the end of high school I was known universally as “Taint Toucher” and actually won the award for “Most Likely to Touch Taints”.
After High School I moved away to college and many assumed this obsession with my taint would subside. In fact, for the first year it almost did. I briefly became a vegan witch, donated a kidney to the dark arts, and built an owl sanctuary with a group of homeless women named Lydia.
“Quickly, the librarian guided me to the book ‘Jerry’s Tiny Taint'”
That’s when I met Igor, the Russian janitor at the college. While he was about 40 years older than me, covered in psoriasis, and didn’t speak English, I found myself extremely attracted to him. One day I saw him cleaning the windows in an empty classroom. I watched as his coveralls danced over his fleshy soft curves as the sunlight caught the rugged peeling flesh of his multiple skin conditions.
I was unable to contain myself. I ran into the classroom, closed the door, and grabbed him. As I moved my lips into his I felt a splash. Igor had dropped the Windex bottle and the impact had caused the entire thing to explode over my Jordache jeans. “No lady” Igor cried “stop” he continued. I pushed my frame towards his and pressed his frail soft body against the window. I grabbed his head between my hands and once again moved in for a kiss, “lady, no” Igor bellowed as my lips pressed against his. The sexual tension between us sent a wave of ecstasy through my body. Overcome with passion, I unlocked my embrace from Igor and ran back out the door. As I sprinted back to my dorm room, the scent of the Windex clung to me as vividly as the feeling of his scaly confused lips.
Igor left the college and went to work at a keilbasa stand shortly after the incident. Although our affair could not continue, I replayed the sexy memory of Igor over and over again. At first I would just spray some Windex in the room or on my clothing, which was enough to stimulate the memories and pleasure of the encounter. Nothing could prepare me for the intensity of my first taint Windex-ing. As I sprayed the blue liquid on the taint and began to rub circular motions with a microfiber cloth, I remember feeling like nothing else in the world mattered. For me, it felt like the very thing I had been seeking my whole life, as if the empty void was suddenly filled. People have scolded me, saying “stop Windexing your taint, this is my uncle Gerald’s funeral” but as far as I’m concerned, if you invited me, you also invited my Windex and my taint.
Lisa Bizzle has over 3 badminton tournament victories & at the tender age of 26, survived a bee sting to the neck. Lisa now divides her time between building blanket forts & shaving pentagrams into neighborhood cats.