This is a post written for Masturbation Monday, inspired by the lovely image above from Floss Does Life. I am terrible at taking part in blogging memes, but I’ve wanted to do Masturbation Monday for a while because I really enjoy reading the hot entries people contribute each week. This week I spotted this photo and it gave me an instant idea for this woman, and this quick story.
It begins with one rule: no more disappointment. She writes it in her calendar, to mark the occasion. To cement her commitment: August 12th – no more disappointment.
No more waiting by the phone. No more nodding and smiling over weak cocktails and even weaker conversation. No more gritting her teeth and saying ‘up a bit’ while dry fingers prod in all the wrong places. No more disappointment. No more bad sex.
The last one will stick in her memory, and she pities him for that. He tried. Eagerly he twisted her body into positions he’d seen somewhere on screen. Rubbing at her clit like he was polishing silverware. Thrusting like time was of the essence.
No more of that.
She stands in front of the bedroom mirror in a fur coat and stockings that she will never wear in the presence of another person. That feels delicious, so she says it aloud:
“I will never wear these for anyone except myself.”
Her skin is smooth and her head is clear and her body is all hers – no one else’s.
She tells herself:
“You’re beautiful. And you’re mine.”
Standing in front of the mirror, she licks her fingers and starts to rub gently at her clit. In the right place. Slightly to the left, with firm pressure and plenty of spit. Watching her busy fingers she reminds herself what pleasure feels like, and wonders again why she spent so long trying to persuade herself she could live without it.
“You are hot,” she tells herself. “And you are filthy. And you’re alone.”
At ‘alone’ she spreads her legs wider, plunging sticky fingers into her cunt. Staring into her own eyes and pulling the faces she was always unsure if she was allowed to pull when she was trying to impress a bad lay. Curling her fingers to press against herself, in the place she enjoys it most, she allows herself to moan gutturally – from deep within her chest.
It sounds like a roar.
Fucking herself harder now, her legs start to tremble. Remembering the first time she ever did this – same mirror, same stance, different stockings – back when she was twenty. She has never been a quiet wanker, or a shy one. Nor has she ever needed anyone else to help people her fantasies. This, right here, is enough: the way she looks and the way she smells and the feeling of her fingers curving neatly into the perfect shapes.
Her stockinged feet wobble slightly, and she feels the pressure of an orgasm building in the pit of her stomach. Stepping back a few paces, she collapses onto the sofa, head still angled so she can watch the sight of her busy hands and jiggling tits and twisted face looking back at her from the mirror.
As she comes, she feels her cunt clench tightly around her fingertips. She presses two fingers hard against her throbbing clit and with her other hand, gives three or four more thrusts, in quick succession. Her cunt aches and twitches – there’s something delicious about pushing right through. Riding the waves for as long as possible. Not just until they’re over: until it hurts.
The sounds of her moans are not interrupted. The sensations she’s creating never stop abruptly or tail off. There is no one to critique, or applaud, or be indifferent.
And best of all, there’s no one to tell her to stop.
Read some of the other Masturbation Monday stories by clicking the icon below. You should also check out this awesome guest blog about masturbating into a mirror, because I suspect that’s part of what made me want to write this.