smut theory


My dear friend txted me that she rubbed one out in about thirty seconds.  I told her I wished to be involved.  She said I was involved– she told me about her masturbation.  I felt loved and special.

“I’ve never come that fast in my life,” I told her.  My cunt is good at overwhelmingly powerful orgasms, but it takes a minute.


Then another friend mentioned over txt that it was very windy, where they live.  They said they wanted to masturbate before a falling tree limb took down a power line and the porn went out.  I imagined them beating off, listening to the wind, and ejaculating.

“I hope everything comes out ok,” I txted.

The coincidence made me laugh, two friends bringing up their masturbation with me, on two consecutive days.   But these are the two friends I asked for phone sex–both said no.

I guess they speak more freely with me, since they know I wanted to masturbate with them, on the phone.


I didn’t feel the need to masturbate for years because my spouse and I did it every day, often twice a day, for the first two / few years of our relationship.  I was maxed out on orgasms.

Then, when he and I started doing it less frequently, I felt a little weird, masturbating.  That one time he and I had phone sex, when he was away on a trip, I felt so lonely right after I came.  The orgasm shook my body.  I needed cuddle, afterward.  My spouse’s voice on the phone sounded far away and totally inadequate.

I really believe in options and variety.  I like independence, and I love masturbation in the abstract.  But in practice, masturbating alone can feel sad, to me.


Lately, more horny than usual, I have masturbated a few times.  I like touching myself daily–my tummy, breasts, hands, arms.  But masturbating feels different–more sexy and with the intent of coming.

One afternoon about a week ago, I was lying in bed masturbating.  My spouse was home, but I didn’t want to do it with him; I wanted to masturbate.  I didn’t want to think about what he needed and try to please him–I was thinking about myself and a friend who makes me want to come really bad.

A fantasy was bothering me, and I wanted to come as a way to process a bunch of feelings, to help feelings work their way through me.  I wanted to do that alone, so my mind could concentrate on the ideas and emotions alone.  I guess therapeutic masturbation is what I was looking for, some healing.


So I was lying in bed, wearing only underwear, imagining a specific kind of love and rubbing myself.  My left hand was in my chonies.  My middle finger rubbed my clit, as my pointer and ring finger pushed my cunt lips open.

I knew my spouse was on a zoom.  But he has headphones and can walk around, just listening to the zoom.

I was deep in this fantasy, as my fingers were in my cunt.  I held myself, feeling a ton of emotions.

Then I heard my spouse’s footsteps and felt awkward.  Would he open the door and say hi to me?

It was ok for him to see me masturbating, but I didn’t want to think about his feelings and reaction to me.  Being interrupted by him would bother me.

So I stopped masturbating and listened to what he was doing.  He was messing around with something in the room next to our room.  I lay there, breathing.  Then he walked away, and I resumed my masturbation.


Physically, masturbating can be difficult for me because it requires muscle stamina I struggle with.  I can’t masturbate with my right hand because of the weakness caused by my pinched nerve.  My left arm gets really tired and hurts, just a minute or two into the masturbation.

I’ve tried different positions, pillow arrangements, ways of breathing, lubricants.  A pillow under my left arm helps.  Sometimes masturbating with my spouse there, I’ve asked him to push on my left shoulder.  It felt sweet, to have his assistance.

My legs can hurt also.  My thigh muscles get spazzy, especially when I’m close to coming.

The pain increases, as I get closer to orgasm.  Pain and pleasure are having a contest in my body.  The pain can get so intense, I have to stop, despite the powerful motivation to keep masturbating so I can come.

A vibrator can help, but the orgasm feels different, with a vibrator.  Rubbing myself with fingers feels better than vibrator–maybe vibrators overstimulate me.  I’ve tried every speed my cheap vibrator offers.

pain flood

If I manage to get off, after the pain in my arm is building and building, the orgasm crashes in my body, flooding me with pleasure-joy.

Then that fades, and the pain has its turn.  It hurts so much, I’m writhing again, but with the ouch of it.  I move my arm around, trying to help the pain lessen.  Breathing, I feel the pain as it also fades.

There’s something undiagnosed going on with all the muscles of my body, long term.  Not just masturbating–standing at the sink, chopping veg, and many mundane tasks are difficult for me.  I have to take a lot of breaks.

But that’s the tenth thing on the list that never gets addressed.  And doctors blame everything on my fatness anyway.

trying to come

Back to my story!  I was deep in that fantasy again.  Rubbing, finding a rhythm, taking my time.  My hand loving my cunt.  Noticing the erection in my clit, stroking it different ways.  Slowing down, speeding up.  Feeling the physical feelings, emotional feelings.  Figuring something out with my body.

I neared orgasm, letting myself feel all that, really wanting to come.  In my imagination, my friend was telling me things I really wanted to hear.  Yeah, I masturbate about words–what did you expect.

I also masturbate imagining someone I love masturbating–imaging that loved one thinking of me.  That can get me off better than anything, sometimes.  Well, there are many things I might imagine.

Then I could hear my spouse’s footsteps again.  I didn’t want him to walk in right as I was coming.  So I stopped masturbating again.  I love him more than anything and usually want to see him.  But that moment I was like–omg, I need some privacy.


It reminded me of being a kid, or being a teenager.  Trying to use drugs or have sex in the backyard undisturbed.  Wait a second.  Ok, they’re gone.  Go ahead.  Oh wait, I think I hear my mom’s car.  No, that was the neighbor.

I lay on the bed, panting, feeling my cunt relax as I listened to my spouse’s footsteps.  Then he walked away again.

I rubbed myself and thought of what I needed to think.  The orgasm neared–likely, likely, inevitable, right there–until nothing other than coming mattered.


My whole body tensed and jerked.  Overwhelming pleasure hit me, like I was made of light.  White-blue light filling the room–that was me.  A terrifying, huge wave of pleasure.  My back arched.

Then more waves, fast in my entire body, as my cunt contracted again and again.  I was breathing a lot.   My body felt like it was made of honey–glowing, molten honey.

My muscles felt all extreme.  I stifled some noise trying to escape my throat, and my head was moving around, then shaking back and forth as if to say no.  No to the unhandle-able, crazy, way too much feelings.  Loss of control moment.

There were some seconds of overwhelm, and it began to lessen.  I was pushing on my clit during all of that.  Then I rubbed it some more, to come more.  My honey-body was flooded with more pleasure, more waves of it.

All of that, again, as I pushed down more on my clit.  Then I rubbed it some more and came some more.


Slowly I returned to the regular world.  I was a person again, not a white-blue light being.  I held myself, turned on my right side in the bed, in a sleeping position I favor.

My breathing slowed to normal.  I felt disoriented and good.  I was there for myself.  My right hand was on my left shoulder, and my left hand was on the right side of my belly–self-hug.  My legs were crossed at the ankles.  I felt safe.  My cunt was all wet and still glowy.

My thoughts shifted away from the masturbation fantasy I was working through.  I sighed.  I felt self-contained and content.

There was a little loneliness, but it had felt like magic work almost–getting all of me in agreement on something.  Mind, body, and spirit to all understand something at the same time.  Processing feelings through.


Later that evening I had sex with my spouse but didn’t come.  I came with him the next day.  Yes, masturbation had moved something through me.  I felt better.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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