Mutual masturbation: I could do this forever

Image by the brilliant Stuart F Taylor

Remember last Wednesday’s blog post, where my partner injured his hand and then gave me a cute compliment? That unscripted compliment wasn’t the only good thing to come out of his DIY disaster. As he pointed out soon after he’d mangled his palm, in a voice tinged with horror and distress: that was his wanking hand. He is not a man who goes without a wank easily, and I’m not a girl who misses the opportunity for a new kind of mutual masturbation. So we set to work…

He’s sitting on the sofa, in loose shorts and a t-shirt. Phone in hand, TV on, at the time of night when I’d usually go to bed. My eyelids are drooping and my body is tired, but I’m itching with horniness and not quite ready to go to sleep.

“Do you fancy having a wank while I watch?” I ask him.

He shakes his head sadly.

“I tried, last night,” he explains. “But I’m injured, and I just can’t get the grip required to make it work.”

“That’s a shame,” I tell him. Then, spotting an opportunity for a little dirty talk if nothing else… “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it frustrating?”

“Yeah.”

“Does your cock ache?”

“Yeah. Don’t push it,” he tells me, putting one hand down his shorts and rubbing at his already-swelling dick.

“Let me see how frustrating it is. Please?”

He obliges. Fires up some porn on his phone, pulls down his shorts, and grips his dick lightly. It’s not an awkward or difficult grip – the practised curve of his fist around the shaft of his cock looks the same as it ever did, just with a slightly lighter touch. The problem isn’t that he can’t move his hand, it’s that he can’t achieve the powerful strength of his signature death-grip.

As I watch him partake in a slightly torturous wank, I sit on the sofa on the other side of the room, casually rubbing my clit beneath my knickers.

He goes gently but quickly, with a slight frown on his face. The tip of his cock glistens, and he occasionally adjusts himself to shove his hips up and slide his dick further through his fist. In his other hand he holds his phone, scrolling endlessly through a collection of filthy pictures.

“What are you looking at?” I ask him. “Describe it to me.”

He does better than that: casting his phone screen to the TV so I can see exactly what he sees. A collection of images of different people fucking, sucking, wanking. Women sprawled topless on spunk-soaked bedsheets and gifs of others spreading their cheeks and dipping glistening fingers into anonymous cunts.

Out of the corner of my eye I see him shuffling frantically, aching to come but guaranteed to fail. In the other direction I see exactly what’s turning him on: a smorgasbord of sex and flesh and frustration. Every image brings him closer to orgasm, but every too-light touch of his dick reminds him that he’ll never quite make it. I’d spend my whole life watching him wank like this if I could – in this state of involuntary edging.

This kind of mutual masturbation isn’t quite like what I read about in sex tips articles. It isn’t two people masturbating together as a unit – an X-rated partner dance. Rather we’re two separate people, at opposite ends of the room, using the other’s perversions for inspiration to act how we would if we were alone.

He edges all the time on his own – drawing out a wank for hours, sometimes, to make the most of those moments just before he comes. Greedily wringing the last drops of sensation from each and every session. Delaying that moment when – with a splatter and a grunt – it all has to stop temporarily until he’s revved up for Round Two.

I don’t have the same patience, as evidenced on this night. Although I could do this forever in theory, in practice I don’t have the restraint. I rub at my wet clit with one hand, and come clumsily – quickly.

We are separate and we are opposites: I guzzle sensations while he savours them like a meal. And although I can’t hold back from coming I can easily go for a second helping. So I keep rubbing gently as I watch him – hoping he’ll keep going too. But he’s horny and desperate, and his hand alone just won’t quite do the trick.

He’s got a better plan in mind…

This is part 1 of a 2-part story – part two goes beyond mutual masturbation and into ‘fuck me like a rag doll’ territory. Part 2 is live now – fuck me like you’re wanking

6 Comments

  • Jadis says:

    Uunnggh. I wasn’t going to comment until I read your tags, and decided that if you were wanking while writing the second half, it is totally acceptable to tell you that I came to your blog to choose some of your wonderful audio porn to listen to while I had another session with my new vibrator, and instead stumbled upon a brand new post. I don’t think I can describe how excited I am when I see you’ve published new blog content, especially when I’m extremely horny and I am surprised by some of your deliciously filthy writing. This is a wonderful – and very arousing – story in your signature incredible writing style; by the end I was pressing my vibrator against my clit, fingers circling my cunt, and when I got to the ending… again: unngh. I closed my phone and created my own fantasy of being fucked like a rag doll, using fingers and vibe in sync, so thank you for a very satisfying afternoon.

  • New to this says:

    Torturous! Can’t wait for the second installment x

  • NM says:

    Ok, this is a really weird comment but Kudos to ChainBear for not illustrating a ridiculous ‘Cockzilla’ for the (brilliant) blog entry.

  • SpaceCaptainSmith says:

    Ooh, poor guy. :) Looking forward to part 2!

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