Masturbation

Written by J. On behalf of a friend, a girl.

It was as close as I got to touching myself. I’ve never allowed my lust to overcome me, but I know the day will come. There’s no one home today, my parents and sister out of the country for a holiday. Let’s just take it as I have the whole house to myself. Let me put this down as clearly as I remembered, and I hope it would serve as a bridge to those who have not/ does not masturbate. I am a girl, sleeping braless has been a routine for as long as I can remember. The worn out soft oversized tee still feels best for sleeping in, as I’ve been wearing them for so long. Everytime I move around, the silky material would run along my breasts, and the nipples will be ones to be in constant contact. Once in a while, I would feel turned on, and be so tempted to give my nipples a hard pinch or a roll between my fingers, to release whatever chemicals to feel.. pleasure.

Pleasure had a different meaning then, I didn’t give in to these little temptations, yet something in my mind keeps telling me to find a good time to really enjoy discovering it. So, seems like today.

I lie on the bed naked, under the quilt blanket, had my mind cleared and MonsterBeats over my head, connected to my iPod Classic. A track which had been my favourite since the movie – Titanic, was playing softly into my mind. It has the power to link anything to it, be it a ship sinking, or love making. Everything was in place, my other super duper soft pillow at my calves. For this ‘journey’ my eyes are closed, never once I did open them. I was no longer just thinking nor moving – for once, I feel.

My two hands lay on the waist I’ve been exercising to maintain a good 25 inches. Both of them moved north, up across my freshly showered body, emitting a sweet smell from the foam. Pausing below my B cups breasts, I gave it a little squeeze along the curves and then slowly pull my fingers over the hills. Warm. Secure. It was different from wearing a bra, nor giving myself a clean up during showers. My breasts felt warm with my hands over it. Without rush, two fingers got into position for both hands, a pinching pose. Five fingers dragging themselves in the direction of each nipple, the thumbs and indexes were the ones to hold the peaks. Giving some energy to the four fingers on my two points, I could feel the pressure generating more warmth.

How about I give these two a sudden squeeze? What would I feel?

And I did. A jolt of electrical signal reached the tip of the sensitive brownish nipples and then a delayed dispersion away from it. It didn’t just reach my breasts, a separate distinct jolt went downwards and gathered there. It marked my first sign of wetting. It felt warm too, at my genitals. I thought it was managable to continue fondling with my breasts, pinching, pulling, rolling, kneading the both of them with my whole hands. The only physical response I got was the wetness collecting between my legs. Apart from that, pinching my erected nipples with my manicured nails did trigger something else. Hmm.. Let me put the whole sensation into words.

Emotionally, it felt like a hug, safe, secure, it was a sign you know something about your body. And your body showed you something which you deserved. Sensationally, it was an electrical shock to your body, but only along everything sensitive on you, from your brains, down to your lips, neck, chests, breasts, together with your spine, the whole feeling continued downwards, across your stomach, hips, inner thighs, then finally to your pussy. It wasn’t painful, it was similar to a mental-physical response when you pee. Relieve, happy, warm, dominating, wilderness. It definitely was addictive.

My left hand then draw itself away from the nipple, and slid down the hump, travelling across the stomach, to the hip.

*Ready? I ask myself.

I wonder what respond was I waiting for. My fingers led the way, and stopped between the tip of the slit and the belly button. It was like betting on a jackpot, only that you knew you would win in the end. It’s not the pleasure that I was afraid I will get addicted to, but the thought of a first ride on a roller coaster came. There is no way to ‘undo’ this experience. Once I board this ‘roller coaster’ I won’t be coming back here. It will be a whole different place I am going to and roller coasters are everywhere. Temptation of the thrills getting myself off would be at every corner.

Stop. I was ready to live it. Pushing my fingers in the direction of the slit, the middle went right along the cut. Pressing harder into the soft grounds, I allowed lust, curiosity, pleasure to lead me. Here on, it was no longer me in control. Immediately, the tip of my middle finger curled backwards and it was right then I felt a shock through my body, exactly the opposite way my mind sent the first waves of the signal. Across my hips, stomach, back, breasts, neck, lips, eyes and into my mind. How could eating chocolate every come close to this feeling? I felt real. It was everything but nothing I’ve felt before – emotional, physical, spiritual. Instinctive. That’s one word to phrase it. A dirty word would be ‘animalistic’. By simply rubbing it, pressing it with a little pressure on and off, rolling it between two fingers, same but different feelings of pleasure come to mind. Every different strokes would send a different wavelength with a same message.

I do shave, and I wasn’t sure if that was the cause, I felt like I had the perfect girl’s pussy, soft, warm, smooth, wet. As I followed my lusty instinct, it became harder to stop or slow myself down. My mind learns fast, and gets addicted even faster. What’s next?

*What’s deeper inside? Imagine there is a spot which gets better than this. Ohh.. I can’t imagine! I have to find out for myself.*

Dragging my finger towards my ass, an entrace greeted me with an even intense shock to my body, officially wetting my both my lips to the max. All I could here was ‘Welcome! Come on it. You’d love it here so much that you can’t stop thinking about it ever.‘ Pushing my finger in a little, the intense feeling followed with every motion, and dimished whenever I stopped to feel. I realised pulling my finger out works differently, a mixed sense of unwillingness and reduced intensity discouraged me NOT to stop. So, I went on.

Exploring the unknowns, every probe sent me a message. There was no one single area that sent me the ‘pain’, nor there was a clear spot which excelled better than others. Everyone inch was different. Now, if only I can stimulate all of them at once. But before that, let me get to the end of the unknowns. My legs were already perked up, knees pointing to the ceiling and the pillow under my lower back. More reach. My finger reached deeper in and there I found something. A spot that would send a non-stop intense signal to my mind the moment I touched it, and when it gets a little weaker, a little nudge would amplify it back to the normal ‘high’ intensity. G-Spot? I don’t know. But it felt good.

Masturbation is a pleasure mix of numbness, contractions, happiness, blissfulness, ignorance (similar to being on drugs), confusion, wilderness, curiosity, security, satisfaction (from stimulation and discovery), relieve. One can really throw everything away while you are at it. I know I could.

As I continued to probe and stimulate every single part of me, I tried to at every point find a spot more intense than other. After a good ten minutes, an eerie feeling set in. It’s like standing on a cliff blindfolded. Imagine the wind, sea, calmness, excitement from running up the highest mountain with your friends, family, everyone that made you happier in every aspect of life, and suddenly someone stopped you. Yet allows you to carry on once you are ready.

The pleasure is one thing, but what is this? This level of uncertainty is unknown, unfelt, and unprepared for. What if I went on, would I die? The intensity of pleasure and shocks and brain signals got so strong I was certain something would end it. But what is it? When/ where marks the end? I wanted to find out the same night. No one dies from masturbation, but no one speaks of this sense of uncertainty. There could only be one reason. It was untold to anyone because each one of us who masturbates, be it guys or girls, have to take this leap of faith. So I leaped.

My fingers rubbed till I was at the peak, and a sudden contraction took over my body, forcing my fingers to get out, but no! At the same time, wriggling my fingers inside the crazily tight wet hole was amplifying all of the pleasure stacked together. Since the beginning of my exploration to this, everything came to mind, it was a summary, a happy ending. I moved my fingers for as long as I could withstand, and as my body got drained in a few seconds, an unbearable tickle came in as I slipped my finger out of the sore, wet slit. A few probes showed me one thing, every single nanometer of my vagina is now activated, sensitive to any contact, be it wind or touch. What happens if I continued triggering the sensitive parts? I don’t know. But it was a very happy tickle, I rememebered I quickly pulled my finger despite that and poked around, finding out where it was sensitive. It didn’t hurt. Now, let me get something that could contact every possible parts inside my pussy at the same time. My mind is kind of hooked onto that thought and thrill.

Self-control is a choice. I don’t give in to my lust or horniness just because my mind/ body wants it. I decide if I deserve it. A ‘NO’ is still possible, taking the energy and focus I would required after a session of self-pleasure. Implicating daily tasks with personal pleasure seems inconsiderate and unethical. Now, who deserves me to help him get off?

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