Not every touch has to be sexual or even have a purpose. Sometimes I run my fingertips over my skin just because I can.
Lying in bed, on my side, curled against John Brownstone, I go exploring. A dip in my stomach there, a bump or lump there.
My fingers trace patterns across my body, wandering absentmindedly across the vast terrain. No direction, no destination in mind. Touching because I can, because it’s there.
A body being a “wonderland” might be trite and a bit of a trope, but it’s true, too. There is so much to feel and experience, even when it’s your own body.
I’m fascinated by the curve of my breast as I roll to one side. Screw what the mirror tells me, is there anything more perfectly round in that moment? I trace the line my body has created, in awe of my own perfection — a perfection only my fingertips know because my eyes and brain are blind to it.
The dip between my leg and pelvis catches my attention. Where did this indentation come from? How did this lumpy, bumpy body create such a thing? I know that when tongue or teeth visit heat floods my body, and I endure unimaginable pleasure. My own touch only provides the memory. But it’s there, I feel it, just under the skin.
I play with my belly button and the heavy roll of flesh just beneath it. I hate how it looks and love how it feels. How do I reconcile that dichotomy? I don’t know and may never. But my hands wander, lifting the weight, reveling in the soft, squishiness. I dip a finger in and out of the my belly button and run my hand under that roll. Sometimes I’m comparing it to previous caresses, testing for change. But sometimes I savor the feeling with little thought for a moment outside of this one.
After a long winding journey, my hand rests against my vulva. I cup mons and labia in a gentle hold, feeling the weight of myself, flesh against flesh. Then…fingertips trip and traipse the creases and folds of my body. I don’t finger myself or masturbate. I explore. The rippled, puckered flesh here, then the silken skin there. I touch the curve of my ass and the crease where thigh and vulva meet. Nothing more than a gentle caress. No purpose, no need, only the exploration of a familiar terrain.
What’s the purpose? There is none, I guess. I find it comforting, familiar, and soothing. It’s a reminder of who I am when my mind wants me to focus on other things. And it’s a great surprise to find that I love what I feel under my fingertips. Touching myself with no destination and no stated reason is a gift I give to myself. Because I can.
Welcome to Masturbation Monday! Not particularly sexy, I know, but those moments always feel seductive in some way. If the picture above looks familiar, it’s because you first saw it In All My Glory and I edited it slightly. It’s still my favorite picture. Want some actual smut? You know where to go!
touching is fun
I think that roll looks lovely!
*blush* Thank you!
It is right an proper that we know and love our own geography, it helps us trust the veracity of someone else loving it, it helps us connect with the sensations someone else can coax out of us and the pleasure we can feel from that. Lovely post – thanks for sharing. xx
I think you’re right, Posy, and had I understood that at a much younger age, I probably would have been less repressed in my 20s. 🙂
An intimate description of your body, thanks!
i used to hate touching myself. Anywhere. as i came into my 40s i think that has slowly begun to change. thank you for sharing such an intimate account.
I never hated it before…I just never thought about it. I was so disconnected from my body that it never occurred to me to do it. I’m glad your feelings are changing, slowly but surely.
I love the relationship that you describe with your body. I completely get what you say about the mirror and what your head sees. I can’t separate that in the same way you can and enjoy it but you give me hope. It sounds so beautiful and natural and I haven’t thought much about focussing on the touch so will try that. Thank you 🙂
I hope you have a good experience with touch, too. I’d much rather do that than look at myself, but I’m even getting better at that, too.
Very underrated activity. It feels good. And I know exactly how and where I want to be caressed. 🙂 You often write what I’ve been thinking.
Great minds think alike!
Absolutely gorgeous post, which made me think of the way I lie in bed and allow my fingers to wander over my body in the same way you do yours. It’s a wonderful feeling 🙂
Thank you so much. I think I must have read something like that from you in the past, because as I wrote it, I was thinking that you did that, too.
[…] has written the sexiest post this week – I Like Touching Myself – and as I read it, it reminded me of the way I love to run my fingers over different parts […]
There’s nothing like being naked and exploring your body!