I Haven’t Touched Myself In a Long Time

It’s been so long since I touched myself. Yes, I’ve played with sex toys. Of course, John Brownstone fucks me.

But touching yourself is something altogether different. It’s intimacy on a different plane.

My favorite moment is when my cunt is freshly waxed. The tender skin, silky smooth, laid bare before my seeking hand.

I always stroke the crease where thigh and vulva meet first, reveling in the secret corners of my body.

My fingers move inward, fascinated at how delicate the skin feels. Sliding a fingertip up my slit feels scandalous, dangerous, and wholly delicious. Sometimes I stay here a while. Taking the time to touch myself is a luxury. If I’m going to do it, I plan to wring pleasure from every second.

Eventually, a curious finger dips in. Am I wet yet? Sticky heat rises up to meet my tentative stroking. Fingering myself never feels as good as his fingers, but that doesn’t stop me.

But there’s only one spot that matters. The magic button. The bean. The nub.

My fucking clit.

The more I tease myself, the more it throbs. I imagine it straining towards my touch, as if to say, “Here! I’m right here! Touch me damn it!”

I know the longer I wait, the bigger the reward, but I’m ever the impatient one. At least one quick swirl across and around is warranted.

That touch is the spark of the first flame. I dig my heels into the bed as my hips arch up to meet fingers that have since danced away, back to heat that has moved from sticky to slick. Once my fingers are wet, it’s time to truly play.

The fire within me smolders. A single touch and I’ll be burning brightly. Will I? Won’t I? Slit or clit?

Feeling my folds give way beneath my touch, I’d rather swim in temptation, exploring my body’s most intimate corners.

But the throbbing of my clit always calls me back.

As if indulging my inner slut, I mentally sigh and slide wet, shiny fingers across this now hardened, swollen insistent piece of flesh. It will not be ignored, and it will not be pacified easily.

From the first touch, I’m a white-hot flame. Are sparks shooting from my body? They should be.

How long can I hold out? Can I keep this up for a moment or an hour?

The first wave hits. This is no cooling balm but an explosion of electricity and lightning. The firestorm breaks and my body convulses under some otherworldly power.

When I come back to myself, my fingers are back to deciding between cunt and clit. Dark hidden places or bright flames? Which will it be?

Welcome to Masturbation Monday! It occurred to me recently that I haven’t had a good wank in a long time, and I should probably fix that. Thankfully, smutty writers are sharing plenty of one-handed reads this week to make that easy. Go see for yourself!