Confession Doing it...

B

BendyWendy

Guest
I do it on my front.

Masturbating, that is.

I lay on my front, on my bed, naked, to masturbate.

One hand pushed under me, palm up - my right hand - under my cunt, for me to grind down on, hard. My head to one side - to my left - my cheek squashed into the mattress, my eyes closed. I do not penetrate myself, even with my own finger, I keep my hand flat, open, palm up, and I use my body to grind my cunt down on the flat of my hand as hard as I can.

It is very tiring doing it like this, because I do not move my hand or my arm. I do not use my hand to masturbate myself, instead I use my whole body to grind my cunt down as hard as I can on my hand. I used to think that I looked inelegant doing this - like a beached whale - until I saw a video my husband took, which showed me how sensually I moved - my whole body writhing, squirming, my hips rising and falling, my thighs parting and closing - surprisingly sensual. Doing it this way squashes my clitoris inside me. It takes a long time, and sometimes I do not have the energy to reach orgasm, but when I do it is intense - powerful, so that I feel how tightly my cunt clenches and ripples inside me, and my whole body snakes, and very often I cry out - sometimes quite loudly - with the power of the orgasm. But orgasms through masturbation do not sate my needs for long, so often I have to do it again - sometimes three, four or more times - until either I am sated or my body is simply too tired to do it any more.

Sometimes I fuck like this too - when I am on top, sometimes I lay as I do when orgasming, only I am on top of the naked male body under me rather than flat on the bed, and I have a cock inside me, and I grind down on the man's pubic bone instead of on my own hand, but I move as I do when masturbating - grinding myself down, hard, sliding my body up and down, and then orgasming, hard, loudly, snaking and thrashing and crying out as I do. I don't always fuck like that - nor even most often, even when I am on top - but sometimes I do, using the man's body and cock to masturbate on.

I have always done it like this, ever since I was quite young. I called it rubbing, and for many years successfully avoided admitting, even to myself, that I was really masturbating. My capacity for self deception is great, it preserves a sort of innocence, even naivete, in me, this ability to deny the undeniable - to deny the power and intensity and frequency of my need to fuck and be fucked. It is why I can talk to a man, and in my mind entertain the most vivid and extreme images and words that describe him fucking me, but my capacity for denial of the truth means the man senses none of this - no hint at all, none whatsoever, of the raw primal awesomely powerful sex and fucking that I am thinking while I talk to him, about anything but sex. It is this that I think I want to release - I do, within marriage, though not outside it - I want to release the power of my desire, to be seen as sexual, fuckable, to be seen getting fucked, to be fucked. I never do - almost never - but here, now, writing this, I am exposing this side of myself.

I used to 'rub' - masturbate - ever such a lot. At first it was only physical - the physical movements, sensations, feelings - but then as I grew older and realised - still without admitting it to myself overtly - I realised that it was to do with sex, so I started to imagine sex. I told myself that I was trying not to have these vivid sexual thoughts - but I was, of course, quite definitely, and I knew, really, that I would have them - I pretended to myself that the thoughts stole up on me, and that I couldn't help it, but that wasn't true - I would think about them, guiltily, building them up, making some kind of more or less coherent picture or scene or story in my mind, so that when I actually masturbated I knew full well that I would have those thoughts - wanted to have them, fully intended to, but pretended they somehow 'made' me think them, that I could not help it. I remember the first time I let myself imagine an actual boy - a boy I knew - as I masturbated, instead of the formless faceless men who had taken me in my dreams and fantasies until then. It was actually hard to let myself think of an actual boy - I felt so guilty, so shameful, so dirty - but when I did, I came so hard, for so long, that I knew I had found something more awesomely intense than ever. I still feel guilty when I think of actual men - even when I think of the more extreme sexual scenarios I now entertain in my mind - and the guilt, the shame, somehow make it more intense, make me cum harder.

So that is how I masturbate. On my front, naked, one hand pushed under me, grinding my cunt down, hard, my mind filled with images, feelings, words, guilt, shame, arousal. And I orgasm hard, snaking, naked, crying out, the images and feelings and words intensifying the tidal wave of orgasm as it washes through me.

That is how I masturbate.
 
@BendyWendy your story was so sensual and thought provoking, I thought I was reading a piece of erotic literature at times. You really drew me in (oops, no pun intended) with the visceral description of the act of pleasuring yourself, then took a turn with the analysis of the act. I think a lot of people relate to the feeling of shame, which makes it difficult if not impossible to express.

When I was young, before experiencing any physical sexual contact, I used to absolutely tie my soul in knots over the guilt. When I finally summoned the courage at 16 yrs old to tell my girlfriend about my very frequent need for masturbation, I was so afraid and convinced that she would reject me. However she shrugged it off and almost laughed, in a completely reassuring way. That really opened up my world to a much healthier relationship with my body and my pleasure.

However I find that in later years it’s been difficult again to express true desires to my partners. This brings me back to BendyWendy’s story, which makes me want to be more open again. Just will take some searching to figure out how, especially after years of probably less than healthy habits.

But away from myself and back to the story. After the intellectual sojourn I really like how she brought back the physical world in the end. No matter how much I study it, no matter how I take it apart. No matter how I break it down, it remains consistent. It’s a need to reach that end state of sweat-soaked skin, salty lips, heavy breathing. Need for release. Oh sweet release! Now if you’ll excuse me...
 
AmWood said:
@BendyWendy your story was so sensual and thought provoking, I thought I was reading a piece of erotic literature at times. You really drew me in (oops, no pun intended) with the visceral description of the act of pleasuring yourself, then took a turn with the analysis of the act. .
Click to expand...

Thank you, I am glad you not only enjoyed what I wrote but also undersood how much of myself I tried to put into it.

I found posting that was ... I was going to say 'cathartic' but instead I will choose 'liberating': catharsis would be epressing myself to free myself of it - to 'get over it' - but what I did, I think - I hope - was instead to free myself to enjoy it, to relive it, to love the me that did that and to want to do more - freely expressing myself - exposing myself - fully and without reservation. . We hold so much back, and especially about sex - so many secrets, lived and imagined, hidden inside ourselves. It was good to share myself - to be enjoyed - and I wll do it again, I am sure.

And yes, I can be very analytical, to a fault: my husband once said I could verbally analyze my orgasm while having it, which may or may not be a good thing. :-)
 
@BendyWendy, your story was breathtaking, so much so that i read it three times to get a mental image in my head of you actually DOING it, so provocatively worded, using the palm of your hand gyrating against your pussy , your walls enveloped around fingers, feeling your girlie juices seeping out, to add to it, your husband was there too watching and giving you some well earned praise, you even added the fantasy ripping through you of a boy you once iknew that you must have desired for, Honestly though, PLEASE don't ever stop opening yourself up to us, beginning to wonder if your confessions can get any more intense..:)
 
BendyWendy said:
Thank you, I am glad you not only enjoyed what I wrote but also undersood how much of myself I tried to put into it.

I found posting that was ... I was going to say 'cathartic' but instead I will choose 'liberating': catharsis would be epressing myself to free myself of it - to 'get over it' - but what I did, I think - I hope - was instead to free myself to enjoy it, to relive it, to love the me that did that and to want to do more - freely expressing myself - exposing myself - fully and without reservation. . We hold so much back, and especially about sex - so many secrets, lived and imagined, hidden inside ourselves. It was good to share myself - to be enjoyed - and I wll do it again, I am sure.

And yes, I can be very analytical, to a fault: my husband once said I could verbally analyze my orgasm while having it, which may or may not be a good thing. :)
Click to expand...
Damn, and I thought I was analytical. I actually have a Ph.D. In Physics but there is so much of my existence that I suppress in order to maintain some degree of normalcy. Ok that sounds completely pretentious. Let me start again.

The fact that you are distinguishing between cathartic and liberating makes me want to explore this difference. Catharsis to me implies a release of sorts. A purging of events or feelings. But liberation suggests a breaking free of forces that may still exist, in the sense that I am never free of desire that keeps calling me.

Let me just admit that I am too far gone to engage in meaningful discourse at this point. But I want to thank you for sharing and baring a part of you that I feel strongly connected to. But anyway, I’m fortunate to have stumbled upon your words. Thank you for making me think about the physical interaction I too often take for granted.
<3:)
 
AmWood said:
Damn, and I thought I was analytical. I actually have a Ph.D. In Physics but there is so much of my existence that I suppress in order to maintain some degree of normalcy. Ok that sounds completely pretentious. Let me start again.

The fact that you are distinguishing between cathartic and liberating makes me want to explore this difference. Catharsis to me implies a release of sorts. A purging of events or feelings. But liberation suggests a breaking free of forces that may still exist, in the sense that I am never free of desire that keeps calling me.

Let me just admit that I am too far gone to engage in meaningful discourse at this point. But I want to thank you for sharing and baring a part of you that I feel strongly connected to. But anyway, I’m fortunate to have stumbled upon your words. Thank you for making me think about the physical interaction I too often take for granted.
<3:)
Click to expand...

Thank you: I have to say it is really nice to have such a thoughtful compliment.

And yes, in your very well chosen words, I did enjoy 'sharing and baring' myself.
 
BendyWendy said:
I do it on my front.

Masturbating, that is.

I lay on my front, on my bed, naked, to masturbate.

One hand pushed under me, palm up - my right hand - under my cunt, for me to grind down on, hard. My head to one side - to my left - my cheek squashed into the mattress, my eyes closed. I do not penetrate myself, even with my own finger, I keep my hand flat, open, palm up, and I use my body to grind my cunt down on the flat of my hand as hard as I can.

It is very tiring doing it like this, because I do not move my hand or my arm. I do not use my hand to masturbate myself, instead I use my whole body to grind my cunt down as hard as I can on my hand. I used to think that I looked inelegant doing this - like a beached whale - until I saw a video my husband took, which showed me how sensually I moved - my whole body writhing, squirming, my hips rising and falling, my thighs parting and closing - surprisingly sensual. Doing it this way squashes my clitoris inside me. It takes a long time, and sometimes I do not have the energy to reach orgasm, but when I do it is intense - powerful, so that I feel how tightly my cunt clenches and ripples inside me, and my whole body snakes, and very often I cry out - sometimes quite loudly - with the power of the orgasm. But orgasms through masturbation do not sate my needs for long, so often I have to do it again - sometimes three, four or more times - until either I am sated or my body is simply too tired to do it any more.

Sometimes I fuck like this too - when I am on top, sometimes I lay as I do when orgasming, only I am on top of the naked male body under me rather than flat on the bed, and I have a cock inside me, and I grind down on the man's pubic bone instead of on my own hand, but I move as I do when masturbating - grinding myself down, hard, sliding my body up and down, and then orgasming, hard, loudly, snaking and thrashing and crying out as I do. I don't always fuck like that - nor even most often, even when I am on top - but sometimes I do, using the man's body and cock to masturbate on.

I have always done it like this, ever since I was quite young. I called it rubbing, and for many years successfully avoided admitting, even to myself, that I was really masturbating. My capacity for self deception is great, it preserves a sort of innocence, even naivete, in me, this ability to deny the undeniable - to deny the power and intensity and frequency of my need to fuck and be fucked. It is why I can talk to a man, and in my mind entertain the most vivid and extreme images and words that describe him fucking me, but my capacity for denial of the truth means the man senses none of this - no hint at all, none whatsoever, of the raw primal awesomely powerful sex and fucking that I am thinking while I talk to him, about anything but sex. It is this that I think I want to release - I do, within marriage, though not outside it - I want to release the power of my desire, to be seen as sexual, fuckable, to be seen getting fucked, to be fucked. I never do - almost never - but here, now, writing this, I am exposing this side of myself.

I used to 'rub' - masturbate - ever such a lot. At first it was only physical - the physical movements, sensations, feelings - but then as I grew older and realised - still without admitting it to myself overtly - I realised that it was to do with sex, so I started to imagine sex. I told myself that I was trying not to have these vivid sexual thoughts - but I was, of course, quite definitely, and I knew, really, that I would have them - I pretended to myself that the thoughts stole up on me, and that I couldn't help it, but that wasn't true - I would think about them, guiltily, building them up, making some kind of more or less coherent picture or scene or story in my mind, so that when I actually masturbated I knew full well that I would have those thoughts - wanted to have them, fully intended to, but pretended they somehow 'made' me think them, that I could not help it. I remember the first time I let myself imagine an actual boy - a boy I knew - as I masturbated, instead of the formless faceless men who had taken me in my dreams and fantasies until then. It was actually hard to let myself think of an actual boy - I felt so guilty, so shameful, so dirty - but when I did, I came so hard, for so long, that I knew I had found something more awesomely intense than ever. I still feel guilty when I think of actual men - even when I think of the more extreme sexual scenarios I now entertain in my mind - and the guilt, the shame, somehow make it more intense, make me cum harder.

So that is how I masturbate. On my front, naked, one hand pushed under me, grinding my cunt down, hard, my mind filled with images, feelings, words, guilt, shame, arousal. And I orgasm hard, snaking, naked, crying out, the images and feelings and words intensifying the tidal wave of orgasm as it washes through me.

That is how I masturbate.
Click to expand...
gotta luv details...
;)
 
BendyWendy said:
I do it on my front.

Masturbating, that is.

I lay on my front, on my bed, naked, to masturbate.

One hand pushed under me, palm up - my right hand - under my cunt, for me to grind down on, hard. My head to one side - to my left - my cheek squashed into the mattress, my eyes closed. I do not penetrate myself, even with my own finger, I keep my hand flat, open, palm up, and I use my body to grind my cunt down on the flat of my hand as hard as I can.

It is very tiring doing it like this, because I do not move my hand or my arm. I do not use my hand to masturbate myself, instead I use my whole body to grind my cunt down as hard as I can on my hand. I used to think that I looked inelegant doing this - like a beached whale - until I saw a video my husband took, which showed me how sensually I moved - my whole body writhing, squirming, my hips rising and falling, my thighs parting and closing - surprisingly sensual. Doing it this way squashes my clitoris inside me. It takes a long time, and sometimes I do not have the energy to reach orgasm, but when I do it is intense - powerful, so that I feel how tightly my cunt clenches and ripples inside me, and my whole body snakes, and very often I cry out - sometimes quite loudly - with the power of the orgasm. But orgasms through masturbation do not sate my needs for long, so often I have to do it again - sometimes three, four or more times - until either I am sated or my body is simply too tired to do it any more.

Sometimes I fuck like this too - when I am on top, sometimes I lay as I do when orgasming, only I am on top of the naked male body under me rather than flat on the bed, and I have a cock inside me, and I grind down on the man's pubic bone instead of on my own hand, but I move as I do when masturbating - grinding myself down, hard, sliding my body up and down, and then orgasming, hard, loudly, snaking and thrashing and crying out as I do. I don't always fuck like that - nor even most often, even when I am on top - but sometimes I do, using the man's body and cock to masturbate on.

I have always done it like this, ever since I was quite young. I called it rubbing, and for many years successfully avoided admitting, even to myself, that I was really masturbating. My capacity for self deception is great, it preserves a sort of innocence, even naivete, in me, this ability to deny the undeniable - to deny the power and intensity and frequency of my need to fuck and be fucked. It is why I can talk to a man, and in my mind entertain the most vivid and extreme images and words that describe him fucking me, but my capacity for denial of the truth means the man senses none of this - no hint at all, none whatsoever, of the raw primal awesomely powerful sex and fucking that I am thinking while I talk to him, about anything but sex. It is this that I think I want to release - I do, within marriage, though not outside it - I want to release the power of my desire, to be seen as sexual, fuckable, to be seen getting fucked, to be fucked. I never do - almost never - but here, now, writing this, I am exposing this side of myself.

I used to 'rub' - masturbate - ever such a lot. At first it was only physical - the physical movements, sensations, feelings - but then as I grew older and realised - still without admitting it to myself overtly - I realised that it was to do with sex, so I started to imagine sex. I told myself that I was trying not to have these vivid sexual thoughts - but I was, of course, quite definitely, and I knew, really, that I would have them - I pretended to myself that the thoughts stole up on me, and that I couldn't help it, but that wasn't true - I would think about them, guiltily, building them up, making some kind of more or less coherent picture or scene or story in my mind, so that when I actually masturbated I knew full well that I would have those thoughts - wanted to have them, fully intended to, but pretended they somehow 'made' me think them, that I could not help it. I remember the first time I let myself imagine an actual boy - a boy I knew - as I masturbated, instead of the formless faceless men who had taken me in my dreams and fantasies until then. It was actually hard to let myself think of an actual boy - I felt so guilty, so shameful, so dirty - but when I did, I came so hard, for so long, that I knew I had found something more awesomely intense than ever. I still feel guilty when I think of actual men - even when I think of the more extreme sexual scenarios I now entertain in my mind - and the guilt, the shame, somehow make it more intense, make me cum harder.

So that is how I masturbate. On my front, naked, one hand pushed under me, grinding my cunt down, hard, my mind filled with images, feelings, words, guilt, shame, arousal. And I orgasm hard, snaking, naked, crying out, the images and feelings and words intensifying the tidal wave of orgasm as it washes through me.

That is how I masturbate.
Click to expand...
That was beautiful...
 
BendyWendy said:
I do it on my front.

Masturbating, that is.

I lay on my front, on my bed, naked, to masturbate.

One hand pushed under me, palm up - my right hand - under my cunt, for me to grind down on, hard. My head to one side - to my left - my cheek squashed into the mattress, my eyes closed. I do not penetrate myself, even with my own finger, I keep my hand flat, open, palm up, and I use my body to grind my cunt down on the flat of my hand as hard as I can.

It is very tiring doing it like this, because I do not move my hand or my arm. I do not use my hand to masturbate myself, instead I use my whole body to grind my cunt down as hard as I can on my hand. I used to think that I looked inelegant doing this - like a beached whale - until I saw a video my husband took, which showed me how sensually I moved - my whole body writhing, squirming, my hips rising and falling, my thighs parting and closing - surprisingly sensual. Doing it this way squashes my clitoris inside me. It takes a long time, and sometimes I do not have the energy to reach orgasm, but when I do it is intense - powerful, so that I feel how tightly my cunt clenches and ripples inside me, and my whole body snakes, and very often I cry out - sometimes quite loudly - with the power of the orgasm. But orgasms through masturbation do not sate my needs for long, so often I have to do it again - sometimes three, four or more times - until either I am sated or my body is simply too tired to do it any more.

Sometimes I fuck like this too - when I am on top, sometimes I lay as I do when orgasming, only I am on top of the naked male body under me rather than flat on the bed, and I have a cock inside me, and I grind down on the man's pubic bone instead of on my own hand, but I move as I do when masturbating - grinding myself down, hard, sliding my body up and down, and then orgasming, hard, loudly, snaking and thrashing and crying out as I do. I don't always fuck like that - nor even most often, even when I am on top - but sometimes I do, using the man's body and cock to masturbate on.

I have always done it like this, ever since I was quite young. I called it rubbing, and for many years successfully avoided admitting, even to myself, that I was really masturbating. My capacity for self deception is great, it preserves a sort of innocence, even naivete, in me, this ability to deny the undeniable - to deny the power and intensity and frequency of my need to fuck and be fucked. It is why I can talk to a man, and in my mind entertain the most vivid and extreme images and words that describe him fucking me, but my capacity for denial of the truth means the man senses none of this - no hint at all, none whatsoever, of the raw primal awesomely powerful sex and fucking that I am thinking while I talk to him, about anything but sex. It is this that I think I want to release - I do, within marriage, though not outside it - I want to release the power of my desire, to be seen as sexual, fuckable, to be seen getting fucked, to be fucked. I never do - almost never - but here, now, writing this, I am exposing this side of myself.

I used to 'rub' - masturbate - ever such a lot. At first it was only physical - the physical movements, sensations, feelings - but then as I grew older and realised - still without admitting it to myself overtly - I realised that it was to do with sex, so I started to imagine sex. I told myself that I was trying not to have these vivid sexual thoughts - but I was, of course, quite definitely, and I knew, really, that I would have them - I pretended to myself that the thoughts stole up on me, and that I couldn't help it, but that wasn't true - I would think about them, guiltily, building them up, making some kind of more or less coherent picture or scene or story in my mind, so that when I actually masturbated I knew full well that I would have those thoughts - wanted to have them, fully intended to, but pretended they somehow 'made' me think them, that I could not help it. I remember the first time I let myself imagine an actual boy - a boy I knew - as I masturbated, instead of the formless faceless men who had taken me in my dreams and fantasies until then. It was actually hard to let myself think of an actual boy - I felt so guilty, so shameful, so dirty - but when I did, I came so hard, for so long, that I knew I had found something more awesomely intense than ever. I still feel guilty when I think of actual men - even when I think of the more extreme sexual scenarios I now entertain in my mind - and the guilt, the shame, somehow make it more intense, make me cum harder.

So that is how I masturbate. On my front, naked, one hand pushed under me, grinding my cunt down, hard, my mind filled with images, feelings, words, guilt, shame, arousal. And I orgasm hard, snaking, naked, crying out, the images and feelings and words intensifying the tidal wave of orgasm as it washes through me.

That is how I masturbate.
Click to expand...
Bloomin eck ;) that made for an interesting read.
 
WOW!
BendyWendy said:
I do it on my front.

Masturbating, that is.

I lay on my front, on my bed, naked, to masturbate.

One hand pushed under me, palm up - my right hand - under my cunt, for me to grind down on, hard. My head to one side - to my left - my cheek squashed into the mattress, my eyes closed. I do not penetrate myself, even with my own finger, I keep my hand flat, open, palm up, and I use my body to grind my cunt down on the flat of my hand as hard as I can.

It is very tiring doing it like this, because I do not move my hand or my arm. I do not use my hand to masturbate myself, instead I use my whole body to grind my cunt down as hard as I can on my hand. I used to think that I looked inelegant doing this - like a beached whale - until I saw a video my husband took, which showed me how sensually I moved - my whole body writhing, squirming, my hips rising and falling, my thighs parting and closing - surprisingly sensual. Doing it this way squashes my clitoris inside me. It takes a long time, and sometimes I do not have the energy to reach orgasm, but when I do it is intense - powerful, so that I feel how tightly my cunt clenches and ripples inside me, and my whole body snakes, and very often I cry out - sometimes quite loudly - with the power of the orgasm. But orgasms through masturbation do not sate my needs for long, so often I have to do it again - sometimes three, four or more times - until either I am sated or my body is simply too tired to do it any more.

Sometimes I fuck like this too - when I am on top, sometimes I lay as I do when orgasming, only I am on top of the naked male body under me rather than flat on the bed, and I have a cock inside me, and I grind down on the man's pubic bone instead of on my own hand, but I move as I do when masturbating - grinding myself down, hard, sliding my body up and down, and then orgasming, hard, loudly, snaking and thrashing and crying out as I do. I don't always fuck like that - nor even most often, even when I am on top - but sometimes I do, using the man's body and cock to masturbate on.

I have always done it like this, ever since I was quite young. I called it rubbing, and for many years successfully avoided admitting, even to myself, that I was really masturbating. My capacity for self deception is great, it preserves a sort of innocence, even naivete, in me, this ability to deny the undeniable - to deny the power and intensity and frequency of my need to fuck and be fucked. It is why I can talk to a man, and in my mind entertain the most vivid and extreme images and words that describe him fucking me, but my capacity for denial of the truth means the man senses none of this - no hint at all, none whatsoever, of the raw primal awesomely powerful sex and fucking that I am thinking while I talk to him, about anything but sex. It is this that I think I want to release - I do, within marriage, though not outside it - I want to release the power of my desire, to be seen as sexual, fuckable, to be seen getting fucked, to be fucked. I never do - almost never - but here, now, writing this, I am exposing this side of myself.

I used to 'rub' - masturbate - ever such a lot. At first it was only physical - the physical movements, sensations, feelings - but then as I grew older and realised - still without admitting it to myself overtly - I realised that it was to do with sex, so I started to imagine sex. I told myself that I was trying not to have these vivid sexual thoughts - but I was, of course, quite definitely, and I knew, really, that I would have them - I pretended to myself that the thoughts stole up on me, and that I couldn't help it, but that wasn't true - I would think about them, guiltily, building them up, making some kind of more or less coherent picture or scene or story in my mind, so that when I actually masturbated I knew full well that I would have those thoughts - wanted to have them, fully intended to, but pretended they somehow 'made' me think them, that I could not help it. I remember the first time I let myself imagine an actual boy - a boy I knew - as I masturbated, instead of the formless faceless men who had taken me in my dreams and fantasies until then. It was actually hard to let myself think of an actual boy - I felt so guilty, so shameful, so dirty - but when I did, I came so hard, for so long, that I knew I had found something more awesomely intense than ever. I still feel guilty when I think of actual men - even when I think of the more extreme sexual scenarios I now entertain in my mind - and the guilt, the shame, somehow make it more intense, make me cum harder.

So that is how I masturbate. On my front, naked, one hand pushed under me, grinding my cunt down, hard, my mind filled with images, feelings, words, guilt, shame, arousal. And I orgasm hard, snaking, naked, crying out, the images and feelings and words intensifying the tidal wave of orgasm as it washes through me.

That is how I masturbate.
Click to expand...

WOW! This is a very hot story. I think you just made me remember this story when I'm masterbating.... Which I'm going now to do because you just turned me on WOW. . I have a similar technique and know exactly what you are meaning, feeling, thinking, etc just as you said it. Fuck that was hot. Damn i need a cigarette...lol. Hot. Sexy. Secret to the world.....now you told....isn't it hotter now thinking of this the next time you masterbate?
 
BendyWendy said:
Thank you, I am glad you not only enjoyed what I wrote but also undersood how much of myself I tried to put into it.

I found posting that was ... I was going to say 'cathartic' but instead I will choose 'liberating': catharsis would be epressing myself to free myself of it - to 'get over it' - but what I did, I think - I hope - was instead to free myself to enjoy it, to relive it, to love the me that did that and to want to do more - freely expressing myself - exposing myself - fully and without reservation. . We hold so much back, and especially about sex - so many secrets, lived and imagined, hidden inside ourselves. It was good to share myself - to be enjoyed - and I wll do it again, I am sure.

And yes, I can be very analytical, to a fault: my husband once said I could verbally analyze my orgasm while having it, which may or may not be a good thing. :)
Click to expand...

I analyze everything and like u say...to a fault. My husband says the same about me....
 
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