Self-administered sexual fulfilment had always been a myth to me. Besides, I’d never even had the need for it. There was always an overly eager member of the opposite sex ready to see this task to fruition.
So I never bothered to master the art.
But on that cold and rainy morning, my body felt different. It felt unusually hot. My lower abdomen felt too uneasy and the throbbing between my legs was sending ripples all over my body.
Maybe if I’d been any younger, I’d have been both fascinated and confused by these sensations. But this was something I’d felt before. Most times, it would happen as I talked to the object of my desire. Careful examination of his features, the delicate crease of his brows as he stressed a point, the way he’d lick his lips right before he proceeded with a story, the sudden sparkle in his ever so kind eyes as he watched me laugh at his cheesy stories, the uncontrollable chuckles that my own stories sent him to….the sudden fire in his eyes as he leaned in to kiss me….at which point I wouldn’t even be in position to remember what he’d been telling me….all my thoughts would be completely elsewhere. The air about us would change. And the god Eros, would conjure up an orchestra, call for the performance to begin as he sat back and watched. These were some of the stimulants. Immediately I’d start to feel uneasy…..a sweet uneasiness, followed by a sudden gush of wetness. An increase in my heart rate…by the time his lips reached mine, I would be done for already.
It was weird, made me feel a little bit abnormal, but oh, it always felt so nice to experience it. But I was alone on that rainy morning. I pulled the covers further up and frowned for a moment. Is this how it was supposed be? I wanted a warm male body to be next to me in that moment. I wanted HIM. My Adonis. The greatest rider who ever rode this horse called I.
I wanted his hands wrapped around my form as we both lay on our sides, him whispering sweet nothings in my ear as I adjusted my ass to meet his eager member. I would close my eyes and move a little bit more to let him in. This would commence our dance. With Eros there to laud us on the great performance. This is what I longed for. My hands slowly moved down towards the blossoming lily. I parted my legs a little bit more….gosh it was warm…and moist. It felt good to the touch. The petals were full and each stroke made them sing in whispers sending rippling spasms all over my body.
My right finger aimed for center, gently sliding in and out.
When it rolled out, it aimed for the petals again, slowly parting them to reveal the budding fruit.
The gentle strokes on the bud had me moaning out loud. My other hand went to my nipple, playing ever so gently with it. My heart was beating out of my chest and my hands could feel the wetness gushing out of me.
I upped the pace of the strokes, it felt good and I was almost there. I could feel it build up, creeping up from the deepest crevices of my being, disintegrating me and shuttering everything in its path.
My lower body writhed, I raised my hips…my other hand moved from my nipple and clutched the pillow that my head lay on tightly…..
It came in so strong, I moaned out loudly. On that cold rainy day, the lily was stripped of its innocence about self-pleasure.
It was no longer a foreign concept.
Photo by NGPhotos via Iwaria