Guide

My name is Laura, I blew out 32 candles this year, and I've never felt so good in my body. I grew up in the North of France, in a rather strict family. As a child, I lacked nothing, except perhaps a little freedom and lightheartedness. Since childhood, I've been passionate about books; it's the way I found to escape from daily life and dare to step outside the box. Books truly taught me everything: about myself, about interpersonal relationships, about seduction, and even about sexuality. It was a subject I never discussed with my parents, and inevitably, from the age of 15-16, I needed answers. I devoured romance novels, guides, and comic books on the subject. My favorite at the time? Kathleen E. Woodiwiss's The Flame and the Flower, published in 1972: a classic historical romance that I recommend to all women. After a bachelor's degree in communication, I immediately wanted to start working. For weeks, I canvassed all the bookstores in my city until I was given a chance. I was barely 20 years old, and that's when I also started flirting with men. For real, I mean, outside of my head and my fantasies. Before that, I don't think I really felt allowed to. After 2 or 3 frankly disappointing relationships, I met Thomas at a party. The chemistry between us was immediate. The conversation flowed, the attraction was there. Less than 2 years after we met, I became pregnant. We were using protection, so it wasn't really planned, but I didn't question it at all. Mathilde's first few months were certainly difficult and very tiring. It took her a very long time to sleep through the night; she was a baby who demanded a lot of attention. For my part, I was prepared for this reality, I had anticipated this change in rhythm, but I don't think Thomas had fully grasped what becoming a parent truly entailed. At first, I didn't blame him at all. After all, we were young, he also wanted to invest energy in his career, and he always took care of me. He was doing his best, really. But it's true that fatigue crushes everything. Inevitably, intimacy took a hit, and so did my libido. I no longer had the mental space or energy to dedicate to our sexuality. The first year, we couldn't even find time for just the two of us for a restaurant or a movie. When I realized that he was drifting away, I took the initiative. I finally dared to ask our friends and family for help to look after Mathilde at least once a week. I pulled out all the stops to rekindle the flame: romantic dinners, sexting, lingerie, naughty games... I tried everything to stimulate our intimacy. At the time, it wasn't working too badly, but I was always the only one taking the initiative. Being a mother, a bookseller, a wife, and a lover... I couldn't manage to fulfill all these roles 100% anymore. Thomas was becoming distant, and nothing I did was enough to keep him. I could see that his mind was elsewhere, that he no longer wanted to invest in our relationship. I realized that we had become roommates, co-parents at best. I was no longer desirable in his eyes. This realization hurt me immensely, especially after all the efforts I had made to save our relationship. Our daughter wasn't even two years old when I did what I thought I would never do: snoop through his phone while he was in the shower. I don't know if it was fatigue, fear, or just instinct, but I found what I dreaded. A conversation with a woman I didn't know, going back several months. Messages, photos, words... All that attention that was no longer for me. I read it, reread it, again and again. And it was violent. Not just because he was cheating on me, but because I felt invisible. Replaced. Humiliated. Even though I know now that it makes no sense, I compared myself to her, I analyzed every detail, every photo. I confronted him. He didn't deny it. He didn't fight back. He didn't even try to keep me. He let me ask for a divorce. He signed the papers. And it was over. After that, I disappeared a bit myself. I became only a mother. Efficient, organized, always present for my daughter, but no longer a woman at all. My body, my desire, as if erased. Even masturbation was impossible for me, as if my brain had closed that door. I went back to work, met people, tried to rebuild myself. But it was never enough. I felt empty, and guilty for being empty. Six months after the divorce, I finally talked to a friend about it. She was seeing a sexologist as part of her couples therapy, and she gave me her contact information. I made an appointment, partly out of curiosity, partly out of desperation. On the day of the appointment, I could barely speak without bursting into tears. I told her everything that was on my heart: the divorce, the betrayal, my fatigue, my anger, my shame... She looked at me patiently, and then she said something I will never forget: " You have the right to become a woman again. You have the right to be modest, and you also have the right to pleasure. " Just that. Three sentences. But it hit me hard. My husband hadn't stolen anything from me. My body, my pleasure, it was still mine. For the first time in months, I felt seen, whole, legitimate in my desire. She explained that one could be modest, that one could take pleasure without shame, that pleasure was not a betrayal, nor a luxury, nor a whim. That I could be a mother, work, love... and fully enjoy. This small click was huge. As if someone had given me back the right to breathe for myself, to think about myself. Before I left, she scribbled on a sticky note: 1969 And the name of a clitoral massager: the Wand " Start there," she told me. " Try it gently. Make another appointment afterwards. " I ordered it. The package stayed on my nightstand for a whole week. I looked at it, a little wary, a little excited, a little ashamed. I waited for the right moment to open it. Then one weekend, Mathilde was at her father's, and I dared. At first, I simply ran the toy over my skin to explore my arms, my thighs, my belly... rediscover forgotten areas of my body. I was no longer used to touching myself just for me. And it was delicious. I didn't know the inside of my thighs was so sensitive, I had never taken the time to discover my body in my past relationships. Neither had my partners, for that matter. Then I brought the Wand to my clitoris. I hesitated for a moment, my heart pounding, as if I were about to cross a forbidden border. I turned on the gentlest vibration, and I breathed, long and deep, again and again, as if to convince myself that I had the right to be there and that I was doing nothing wrong. And then, I combined the Wand with the caress of my body. The sensation... I had never felt anything like it. A warmth that enveloped everything, an immense relief, as if every part of my body had been holding something back for years that it finally had the right to release. At first, it was quick, uncontrollable. I didn't know where to put my hands, how to breathe with this sensation that was rising so fast. And then I started to listen to my body. To breathe with the rhythm, to stretch the pleasure, to explore by combining caresses and vibration. I didn't even want penetration; everything was perfect as it was. Every little pulsation became a discovery, a thrill, a shiver that I had never taken the time to feel. Multiple orgasms, control of the rising desire, a world I thought was closed, opened in an instant. When I heard my friends talk about repeated orgasms, I thought they were exaggerating a bit; I didn't think it was possible. I was very wrong. I don't feel ready to meet someone, but I feel alive and connected to my femininity, more attentive to my desire. My libido is slowly reborn, and with it, a part of me that I thought was lost. I went back to see my therapist a few weeks later. We talked about what I had discovered, about the pleasure I had finally allowed myself to feel. She encouraged me to continue exploring, to relearn my body, to listen to my desires. Today, I'm not necessarily looking for love at all costs, but I know I can give myself pleasure, take time for myself, and savor my sensations. I want to continue exploring, try new sex toys; it's true that the Rabbit is tempting me. I have only one desire: to enjoy this newfound freedom, just for me.  

Born in July 1969, the year humanity set foot on the moon, Nathalie never imagined that her own intimate exploration would begin decades later. At 56, after a life dedicated to her family, a simple gift from friends opens the door to an unexpected discovery: that of her own pleasure.