#883) Masturbation Monday

There is an age-old adage giving advice to authors: “Write what you know.” Well, I know masturbation. Just like as a model, when things in that career weren’t busy, I subsisted on Ramon noodles and peanut butter sandwiches, there were long stretches in my personal life when I was uncoupled and alone, and I existed on a steady diet of masturbation. I never felt lonely when living solo except when I masturbated. Knowing how transcendent love-making can be, arousing another that you care about, doing things that blow their mind, bringing them to release, all the while that they are reciprocating and doing the same to/for you pales by comparison to pushing your buttons until you pop. I tried hard not to make this act prefunctory, just a quick jill-off to get off; I tried to preserve some romance.

One of my favorite masturbation methods was to light a lot of candles in the bathroom, lie down in the tub and let the warm water from the faucet pour down on my pussy. I confess that I spent so much time doing that most evenings, not only my fingertips but my entire palms would get pruney and crinkled, I’d get a bruise on my butt from sitting on the drain, and my knees would tremble and shake so badly, I could barely stand afterward.

I feel blessed to be in a relationship with a marvelous, considerate lover, where I don’t have to masturbate anymore. I don’t ever want to take that or him for granted! But the other night, I reminisced about the romance of self-loving with rose-colored glasses on my memory. I wanted to re-experience its joys. I told Robert what I was going to do, asking him to stop by in fifteen minutes to investigate. I gathered all the many candles from around the house and went into the bathroom alone to light them. I put a thin little vibrator up my butt just to help things along. I got in the tub and got into that unique position (isn’t the above picture evocative and encapsulating?). I parted my dewy petals and let the rain pour down, watering my desire. I rediscovered the effeminate effectiveness and existential efficacy of diddling. God, it was a good session! Robert came in just as I was ascending the sheer cliff to my third orgasm.

I could scarcely focus my eyes, but I , nonetheless, loved looking at him look at me getting nasty. I loved watching his member grow, get tumescent, then hard. He had to get it out, it was throbbing so, so constrained when trapped in his trousers. I did that to him, just by touching myself! I thought we were going to have a circle-jerk masturbatory partnership, but Robert isn’t the fan that I am. He grabbed me by my busy wrist, wrenched me out of the tub, bent me over its edge, and fucked me from behind.I got to make an empirical study comparing and contrasting masturbation and fucking. I’m pleased to report my findings; both have their merits, especially when you are masturbating only because you want to, not because you have to out of loneliness.

5 responses to “#883) Masturbation Monday”

  1. I was in my 20’s when my then GF educated me about the ‘fun’ of a bathtub faucet. Never would-a guessed, but there it was. Loved hearing her tell me all about it.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. The Creative Mind always offers me multiple comments to make on your posts. Some are serious (yuck!), some are meant to be funny, some are an attempt to offer a different perspective. There are other possibilities and I often struggle to choose just one from the myriad possibilities.

    This one is unbridled envy! Grrrr!

    Three in 15 minutes! Grrr!

    I don’t know if I could’ve done that as a teenager. Oh to be a multi-orgasmic man!

    Ok, time to ‘fess up:

    Those last bits were meant as a humorous comment (but with just a twinge of envy at the same time)!

    Liked by 1 person

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