I had not come in a week. That was unusual. I was lying in bed, clean from a shower, naked. My spouse was out, and I was lying on my back with my legs spread open. I thought about masturbating. Yes, a masturbation session sounded perfect.
We had sex the day before, but neither came. That’s unusual also. It was sweet, beautiful, and very pleasurable. A great example of how we don’t need to come every time. I was deeply happy.
Masturbation sounded like a kind thing to do for myself. It’s more fun to have sex with my spouse than on my own, but I considered orgasm as medicine. I wanted stress relief, to be flooded with well-being chemicals, to prioritize my own well-being.
So I arranged pillows to be comfortable and began to touch myself.
Well, I touch myself all the time, with different intentions. I touch my tummy lovingly, my breasts, my arms. Settling down to sleep in bed, that’s what I do every time.
Often I put lotion on my dry heels and some rough skin on the backs of my ankles. Sometimes I kiss my own hands, just being there for myself. When I’m scared and overwhelmed, like in the middle of an intense conversation with my spouse, I touch the back of my neck with one hand and my tummy with the other. I’m telling myself I’m ok and I’m there for me.
But this was sexy self-touch, the masturbation session. My left hand moved to my cunt, and I gently touched the pubic hair of my outer labia. Yes, asymmetrical–my left lip is larger than the right one, floppy and reminding me of scrotum. It’s grown larger and looser, over the years.
In no rush, I felt my cunt and its sensitivity. I reached my middle finger and pointer finger into myself and felt my clit. I felt my inner labia and my hole. Felt good to evaluate myself and learn about the state of my cunt from my own hand, with no one else around pulling my attention to them.
I love my spouse and want to give him attention, but it’s good to spend time alone also, sexily. My right hand touched my nipples and evaluated them also, the sensitivity of the day.
It was the beginning of my period, or right before–I was spotting but not heavily flowing yet. I moved my left hand to my nose and smelled my cunt–yes, pretty usual but with a slight blood addition, no blood to be seen on my hand, but the metallic iron smell faint.
I began to rub more seriously. A pillow beneath my left leg had shifted, and I realized it was partly below the left side of my ass, so I was at risk of menstruating on it–I moved it more to my side.
I was thinking about the goddess I think about all the time. Lately I’m having sex with her more often, in my mind. It helps me learn about sex, this thought experiment. She is never going to be my wife or part of my day-to-day family living with me. She’s always going to live on that mountain, and be rather silent, made of rainbow, on her magical rainbow throne that looks out over the deep wooded valley.
There’s no ambiguity or power play there. She loves me always, powerfully, and unconditionally. Her love is totally reliable and solid. So there’s nothing to convince her of. The complete lack of drama with her helped me understand that I use sex to try to convince people that I’m good and have worth. To pay attention to me. Not doing that with her made me see I’m doing it with everyone else.
This goddess is 100% there for me, in a calm way. She does nothing mean or wrong to me, and I don’t need her to love me more or decide to come down from the mountain to live with me and my spouse. She never could live with us–her home on the mountain is her whole deal.
There’s no tension or drama to the goddess sex. She will hold me, fuck me with her strap-on, even say she loves me if I want her to (normally she’s without language). But there’s no question of that. She’s total love for me–chill love with no questions.
Sex with her doesn’t answer a question. The answer is always yes, whether she makes love with me or not. If I want her to, she will, so intensely, skillfully, tenderly. Yeah, I’m feeling horny just thinking about it. Aaahh.
But I didn’t realize until that recent masturbation session day how much sex does have to do with power–not the pretend, play kind of power exchange of bdsm, acting something out for a healing result or the hotness of it.
There’s nothing to prove, with this goddess, which helped me see that with all other people and sex, I’m trying to prove something, or asking the other person to prove something, like that I matter or they are really there for me. Or I’m asking that we perform the sacred bond we share, to demonstrate it to ourselves.
Wild–I’m grateful for that realization.
I cycled from thinking about her fucking me in her cabin. Then imagining my spouse fucking a friend. There’s a fantasy I wrote about that I’ve had in my drafts almost ready for more than a week. It’s long–I need to do a last proofread and find an image.
I also was thinking about my spouse fucking me, very uncomplicated, the weight of him on top of me, being penetrated and used by my sweet lover. Simple–feeling him filling me up with love.
Also sometimes I was thinking about another friend I barely know, elsewhere, imagining sucking his dick. The thickness, length, texture, and taste of his dick in my mouth and down my throat. Somehow loving me, for a few moments. It’s not a reality thing. Honestly, I was thinking of him to keep myself from thinking about someone I loved before. He was blocking that previous one, taking the place of someone I don’t want to want anymore.
But it felt very vivid, to imagine the definition of the head of his dick, feeling the ridge with my lips. I cycled from imagining blowing that guy, to my spouse fucking me simply, to my spouse fucking that friend, but a lot of that rainbow goddess fucking me.
I neared orgasm and felt my cunt change. More slippery and swollen tissue. It was a great comfort, to know I could make myself come soon. I savored the anticipation and pushed my fingers a little way into my hole, feeling vulnerable to myself.
I considered whether to continue. Maybe I should wait until my spouse came home, to share my orgasm with him? But it was hours until I expected him, and I really wanted to do something nice for myself. My entire body urged me on.
I made quiet little whimpering sounds–funny how I respond to the sounds, even when it’s just me making them. Been considering recording myself having sex, just the sound part. Sound is usually my favorite part of porn.
I rubbed and realized it was time–I would come right then. I held myself with my right arm, reaching across to my left shoulder in a self-hug as I rubbed my cunt slower and breathed. The orgasm neared more, and thought of my spouse, a safe feeling with him. Allowing him into me is good and ok. Deeply ok–as ok as anything ever could be.
there for myself
Then I came, waves of pleasure hitting me hard, overwhelming me. I rode it out for the half minute, holding myself tight, being there for myself and thinking of my spouse, with him in my heart. He’s always in my heart.
Then I felt kind of like waking up from a dream. Oh yes, the world. I am a person–this is real life. Sex with another person, it’s slow, returning to the regular world. Collaboratively, that other person and I return slowly together. By myself, it happens almost too fast.
I rested for a moment but wanted to get up and do something different almost right away. Yes, I felt more calm and grounded, flooded with well-being from the orgasm medicine. It was a good choice, the masturbation session.