“I really need to masturbate more, Daddy.” (Because these are the kinds of conversations we have.)
“I gave you permission to masturbate a long time ago, babygirl. You just have to tell me when you do.”
How had I forgotten that? I could have wept with all the missed opportunities to get myself off. Well, we needed to fix that shit…and now.
That night, after getting ready for bed, I grabbed a towel. I intended to make myself a wet, sloppy mess but I really didn’t feel like sleeping in a puddle or changing the sheets. Multiple orgasms are a good way to ensure I sleep almost all night. We were doing this thing.
John Brownstone had his tablet in his hand, seemingly paying me little attention. I had no doubt he would stop “reading” to watch but I didn’t care.
My normal hesitance at touching myself in front of him never appeared. I wanted orgasms. Lots of them. Greedy babygirl that I am.
I spread my thighs and stroked my slit.
Gawd, my body is so soft.
I dipped a finger inside my body.
Mmmm, I was already wet.
I used the stickiness as I stroked my clit.
Yessssssss. My toes curled. My eyes closed.
Circle one way. Then another. Flick. Circle. Flick. Circle.
I whimpered and hissed but I didn’t stop.
Circle. Stroke. Flick. Circle. Stroke. Flick. Groan with pleasure.
Electric shocks began to shoot down my thighs. I shook. A thin sheen of sweat covered my body.
I cried out, louder than before.
A warm trickle of juicy come seeped from my body. This. This is what I needed.
Again…and again. Even as one orgasm shook me, my fingers continued moving. I ignored my g-spot in favor of my clit. I wanted quick, down and dirty, orgasms. I knew, I just knew, if I could last long enough I’d gush.
Finally, after number seven, maybe number eight (I confess, I lost count early on), I tortured my clit mercilessly, not giving into the building orgasm, holding it back, waiting for the orgasm that started at the bottom of my feet, streaking up my thighs, swelling my labia and my tits, making me sweat and shake.
Searing hot fluids poured out of my body as I screeched and screamed. Oh fuck yes!
Slowly, I came back to myself. My hand still cupped my cunt. My body still pulsed.
“Did you enjoy yourself, babygirl?”
I started at the sound of his voice. That’s right, I wasn’t alone. I had an audience. What had he thought of my show?
“Uh, yes, Daddy, I did.” I giggled. “Thank you..for the orgasms and the reminder.”
He chuckled. “You’re welcome, babygirl.”
And, for the record, I slept very well that night with come-soaked fingers curled around my cheek, surrounding all of my senses with the smell, taste, and feel of my own sex and desire.
Welcome to Masturbation Monday! It’s about damn time I actually masturbated again. I’ll have to do that more often. Okay, y’all, go forth and check out the other smutty goodness shared on this, the best of all days. Oh, and if you don’t have the time to read the posts, you need to see the prompt. It’s worth the extra second it takes to click on the image below. No really, it’s that good. Go see for yourself. Rawr!