Since I’m partly still in multiple-heartbreaks mode, I have kind of a love-hate feeling towards masturbation at the moment. Still, I’m doing it about twice a day. I’ve always been one of my main (and best) partners, there’s no reason that should change now. Last night when I went to bed I was antsy enough to need personal time, but I was having trouble getting things started. My body chemistry has been off from the grief and I’m not always as instantly ready as I like to be.
My fantasies have been on the rough side lately, so I tried putting my hand over my mouth. To my surprise, my whole body responded. I felt my shoulders relax and a warmth spread down my arms and across my shoulders—it was a miniature version of the warmth I always felt when I was playing with Steampunk Guy, but it was so cool that I was giving that feeling to myself. I was relieved and excited and kind of mentally already writing about it.
And I was instantly wet. I have to admit, too, that the wetness wasn’t just coming from inside. That’s happened a few times lately—I think my hoo-ha is learning to squirt. I think it happened a little this summer but I wasn’t ready to tell anybody about it at the time and there were already too many things to process in that story. (I’ll give you a hint: there was a great big cock shoved all the way down my throat.)
Anyway, I think before my 40th birthday, (September 2014) I’ll be an ejaculating lady. Fireguy once told me it looks like I can do it, whatever that means. More research is needed. It’s not been particularly a goal or anything, in fact it fills me with trepidation and shame, makes me feel really vulnerable even to mention it. But at the same time, I’m curious, and I want to let my body try everything it wants to.
This morning I woke up triggered, for various related and unrelated reasons. (See the next thing I post.) I think the key to letting things unspool in a nonscary way is, as always, trying to temper curiosity with time and self-care. And research!