Flying Solo

Masturbation: How do I love thee?  Let me cunt the ways…

I started masturbating when I was thirteen years old and have been enjoying it ever since (like almost everyone else on the planet).  I struggled with some guilty feelings in the early years, but managed to work all that silliness out (mostly).  For most of that time, I was what I would describe as a casual masturbator.  I would do it when the urge came over me, have myself a nice little cum, then forget about it for a few days until I got that funny feeling down there once again.  It was nothing more than a pleasant diversion that I turned to once or twice a week.  I thought things would change when I got married and had a cock at my disposal at some point each day, but I discovered that there was still a unique satisfaction that I got from the act of being alone and fingering my pussy to orgasm.

Then I started writing porn.  My masturbation sessions went from a couple times a week at most to a several times a day.  This was a source of concern for me at first, but now I can’t imagine how I survived on only an occasional diddle.  Granted, many of my sessions today are not the luxuriant episodes of self-pleasure that women are often encouraged to treat themselves to, but rather furtive little affairs conducted quickly and quietly in hidden corners of the house.  As I’ve  mentioned, with my girls around I’m often reduced to a hand down my pants while they’re in the next room, or I have to crouch in the bathroom like a hunted animal and beat off as fast as I can before getting interrupted.  My best sessions lately have been my Midnight Runs, where I sneak out of bed late at night, go downstairs, and can take my time with myself.

So, needless to say, I’ve been thinking about masturbation a lot more these days.  One thing I’ve been turning over in my head is how it works in my relationship.  I know my husband masturbates, and I assume it’s on a close to daily basis.  Any woman who thinks her man isn’t jerking off constantly is in denial as far as I’m concerned.  I have absolutely no problem with this, and when I think about it, I have to admit that it turns me on a little.  So, he sneaks and does his thing, and I hide and do my thing.  This got me thinking about how hot it would be if we talked about this and agreed that it’s okay for us to openly masturbate around each other.

I love the idea of walking into our bedroom and finding him stroking his cock to some online porn.  And it would be such a turn on to be able to drop my panties and just finger fuck myself to orgasm while we’re sitting around watching TV together at night in the living room.  Of course we often masturbate together as part of our lovemaking, but that’s more of a mutual thing that is an entirely different experience than when I’m alone.  It’s more a matter of putting on a show for him than it is about indulging myself.  Interestingly, as I fantasized about how an open masturbation arrangement would work with my husband, I realized something interesting.

As much as I’d enjoy being able to guiltlessly play with myself with him around, I’m certain that I would continue to also do it in private.  For me, there’s an element of doing something that you’re not supposed to be doing that makes it more of a thrill to masturbate.  Maybe it’s because of the household I grew up in, but being secretive and furtive about playing with your naughty parts adds to the excitement.  The fear of being caught, no matter how remote, gives jacking off an edge that it wouldn’t otherwise have.  If my husband came downstairs during one of my Midnight Runs and caught me sprawled out on the floor with three fingers jammed in my twat, I’d be mildly embarrassed, but there would be no real consequences (beyond him jumping on top of me and fucking my brains out).  But just the threat of that small sting of being caught is enough make it something more than what I could get out of being free to diddle openly.

Based on all this, I’ve decided that for now I’m going to keep to the status quo in regards to our marital masturbation habits.  I guess to a certain degree I’m still that scared and confused little girl hiding in her room in the dark, silently humping her pillow under the covers with her bluebird underpants pulled down around her thighs.  That being said, I’m toying with the idea of trying to catch my husband whacking off in a way that will allow me to spy on him.  I know this would be an awful violation of his privacy, but I keep thinking about it.  Please talk me out of doing this!

P.S. On a related note, you may have noticed that I use terms like “beat off” and “jerk off” when referring to my own, decidedly feminine, masturbation activities.  I think it’s supremely unfair that the guys have dozens of awesome euphemisms for masturbating, and the women are left with a collection of incredibly lame terms that no one ever really uses.  Paddling the pink canoe?  Polishing the pearl?  Flicking the bean?  Ugh.  I don’t even like the phrase jilling off.  This is why I’ve decided to co-opt some of the guy terms that I like.  Beating off is great for when I want to describe really pounding my fingers into my cunt hard and fast.  Jerking or jacking off makes me think more of stroking my clit.  I love the word “wank,” but I feel weird about using this Britishism as a Yank.  Okay, I just thought I’d clarify that.  Time for me to go rub one out!

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3 thoughts on “Flying Solo

  1. I’ve always assumed that jacking was meant to conjure up the movement used to raise a car with a jack, so jilling off does, I agree, sound lame. I think it’s pretty common these days for women to say they jack off or or beat off or wank. The Britishism may sound like an affectation to some people, but personally I think it’s a word we should have demanded shared rights to when we beat their asses in the Revolutionary War.

    If your husband’s anything like me, he really wants your blessing to get himself off, and he really does not want you lurking around while he’s at it. Guys are socialized to feel that there’s something emasculated about masturbating, so we’re sensitive about having to sneak to do it and even more sensitive about getting caught. Having the explicit validation from a woman that masturbation is okay and being given the room to do it is a great gift. In contrast, the specter of being accidentally caught is humiliating and joy-killing. Nothing kills a whack-off session for me like my wife walking back and forth outside the bathroom door or the shower talking to herself or humming. We had a discussion about this recently, and the fact that I can now say, “Hey, is it okay for me to take over the bedroom (/closet/bathroom/whichever suits my mood and her need for access to the space) for a while,” is a gigantic relief. And the masturbation itself is better because I know she knows, is fine with it, and isn’t going to intrude.

    That said, it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing for her to ask to watch after I’ve put her on alert, or to say, “Sure, go ahead. But if I start thinking about it too much, is it okay if I come in and make you fuck me?”

    But if you really want to sneak and spy, you might consider talking to him to make a game out of it. Tell him it makes you hot to think about spying on him, and make a deal that the only way he gets sex for a week is if he catches you catching him. That way he’s not only got license to but also motivation to bang off as much as possible, and he knows there’s a specific, defined length of time in which he’s giving up some privacy so that you can both get a thrill out of your little hide-and-seek game.

  2. To paraphrase a classic Thirties’ blues number from the ladies’ point of view:

    “I’m gonna get deep down in my connections
    Keep on tanglin’ with my wires
    I’m gonna get deep down in those connections
    Keep on tanglin’ with my wires
    And when I mash down on my little starter
    Well, that spark gonna give me fire.”

  3. If you got the chance to spy on him without he noticed it…, just enjoym have a looooong look, and you will probably end as wet as him ;)

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