Masturbating

I like jerking off.

I don’t imagine this distinguishes me from many people. But I do.

All my life, I’ve been a bit of a creature of habit when it comes to making myself come. When I first began masturbating, when I was twelve or so, I would lie, face-down, and hump a pillow until I came. I protected my pillow with a cum-rag, an old t-shirt devoted to the purpose. And I would fantasize about girls I knew, or look at porn magazines I’d furtively bought at newsstands, or stolen from my uncle’s stash.

In adulthood, far and away, my dominant mode of masturbation has been to lie down on a bed, dial up a good fantasy, some good porn, or both, and to rub my cock through an old t-shirt. I keep a few such t-shirts in the drawer beneath my side of the bed, and I typically spend not more than five minutes from start to finish, using the t-shirt to sop up my spooge, to clean myself off. Then I toss the shirt back in the drawer. I confess that I wash those t-shirts far too infrequently – they get caked with cum, and develop their own unique aroma. And greyish/yellow color.

Very infrequently, I’ll jerk myself off in the shower. Sometimes, with soap. More often, lube-free. I shoot my cum on the shower floor, and then commence my shower.

I’ve written quite a bit about my porn habits. But what typically inspires me to jerk off this way is freshly received porn from a distant buddy or an actual, real-life sexual partner. I’ll write more about my masturbation fodder some other time. Right now, I’m writing about how I get myself off.

Another possibility, more often at work, is to jerk off into or onto a paper towel. I’ll stand at my desk, pull my cock as I watch a beautiful model (or distant buddy, or real-life sexual partner) masturbate, or suck a cock, or just undress.

Recently, though, I’ve switched it up, adding sex toys to my repertoire. My switch-up began with the Fleshlight, which I impulsively ordered. And then, with the Loma Muffin Papaya, about which I just wrote.

I’m digging this change-up.

Partly, I’m liking it because toys give a whole new sensation to the endeavor. They’re not, honestly, anything like sex. But they are fucking awesome, and they deliver sorts of stimulation that are far more fun, far more interesting, than anything I’ve ever been able to accomplish with my hands, or with a t-shirt.

This morning, for example, V (remember V?!? you’ll be reading more about her shortly…) sent me two photos she had taken after dressing – one, of her (gorgeous, fit, toned) full body in a blue and white horizontally striped dress, and the other, of her (perky, B/C) tits and the bottom half of her face in that dress. I texted her, “Ok. I’m gonna go jerk off now. 😉 What’s underneath?”

She followed with two more snaps: one of her belly, cunt, and thighs, her cunt obscured by (not matching) horizontally striped cotton panties, and her breasts, in a lacy, netted blue (?) bra. The bra lifted her yummy breasts, accentuating her cleavage very flatteringly. Very cock-stiffeningly.

I grabbed my new muffin toy, stripped my shorts and boxers off, lubed it up, and slid it onto my cock, toque-like.

I looked at her pictures, and also, at Lola Krit, a model who reminds me a little of her.

And I started twisting, turning, the muffin. FUCK. I was playing around, now. The last time, I was trying to figure out how to use it. This time, I was figuring out what I like. Turning it a little, using both hands to apply pressure, using just one to turn it quickly back and forth, and focusing on the frenulum. And oh, my. That’s what I have to say. Oh, my.

It really didn’t take long. Or rather, I didn’t take long. (Longtime readers know: I can take forever. Or, I can come at the drop of a hat. Masturbating, I generally tend to be quick – though I do love me a long, luxurious cock-stroking session. (I’m having one right now, as I write this, in a text exchange with V who seems to want to come for me. I’ve just asked her to come twice for me. And my cock is hard, and I’m stroking away, with no intention of coming any time soon.)

In just about no time, I exploded into the tiny muffin, filling it with cum. Again – my orgasm was different from those to which I’m accustomed, much more frenulicious, much more… clitoral. All in the tip of my cock, much less in the depths of my groin. A little ticklish. Much less… warm. Much cool-er. Delightful, fun, less draining.

I stood up, waddled to my bathroom, unsheathed my cock, and rinsed the muffin. Cleaning it really is no biggie, if you don’t mind cum in your sink.

I put my boxers and shorts back on, and resumed my day.

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