Doing it
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.
