Your story is exactly the kind that evokes a response from me. I love the idea of masturbating in front of an interested woman and I crave the idea of seeing a woman masturbate in front of me. I crave it because when I masturbated as a teenager-savoring the time in my private little world of nakedness, fantasizing, and making myself come-I would have absolutely loved the certain knowledge that girls I knew were doing the same thing. I didn't know it, and that is why I love to read about it and, better yet, to see you do it.
I imagine that we are students together, doing post-graduate studies in psychology. We are in many of the same classes, including normal and abnormal sexuality. We have exchanged many glances, which seemed not so much charged with raw sexual chemistry as infused with a desire to know and be known at a deep, intimate level. One of our professors assigned us to a discussion group on the sexuality of masturbation, which led us to more revealing one-on-one conversations at a nearby coffee shop. We discovered that we were both fascinated with masturbation-our own and other people's.
Eventually you invited me for a light supper at your flat. I ascended the three flights of stairs not knowing what to expect, but filled with anticipation. I had been horny all day just thinking about being alone with you in your safe, private world. You answered the door in a terrycloth robe with wet hair rolled up in a towel and I felt a jolt of sexual energy. You smelled warm and fragrant from the shower; your face was flushed. You asked me to wait while you blow-dried your hair, and then said 'Well, why don't you just keep me company in the bathroom?' As I sat on the only available seat watching you, I felt I was one step deeper in your intimate world. The moist warmth of the bathroom brought back many masturbation moments in the cozy warmth of my own bathroom as a teenager.
Finished with your preparations and dressed in loose, comfy clothes, you took me by both hands and led me into your tiny living room, saying 'Let's have a bit of wine and conversation. Tell me the deep, dark secrets of your day.' I confessed that I had been preoccupied with thoughts of being with you in your private world and couldn't wait for the time to come for us to continue our process of mutual discovery. You asked what I was thinking right now, and I said I was thinking about our discussions of masturbation and wondering exactly how and where you like to masturbate. You brushed it off saying 'That can wait; let's have some supper.' As we partook, you gave me several coy looks and played footsies with me under the table. The feeling of your warm stocking-clad feet against mine was titillating. We made small talk, as if the subject of sex and masturbation did not exist. After dinner we returned to the living room, where you took a chair opposite the sofa on which I was sitting, assuming a cross-legged position that revealed the soft, inner thighs under your skirt. You offered 'Let's play twenty questions. You get to ask me twenty questions and I get to ask you twenty. The rule is that each person has to answer each question honestly and in vivid detail.' I agreed.
My first question was 'When do you masturbate?' You said usually after returning from class and upon going to bed at night; more often on weekends. My second question was 'What gets you in the mood?' Your answer: 'Well, lately it has been our discussions at the coffee shop.' I said, 'Would you show me where you masturbate and describe how you do it?' You replied, teasingly, 'That's two questions.' 'All right, show me where you masturbate.' You led me to your cozy bedroom, also pointing out the bathroom and the sofa I was sitting on. I asked, 'Tell me about your masturbation ritual and foreplay,' which you then described in detail, to my great surprise and pleasure. I used another question to probe your favorite masturbation fantasies, then I asked, 'Did you feel horny today and do you feel like masturbating now?' You said you would answer, but that would use up two questions. The answers were yes and yes; you were horny as hell, dying to masturbate, and couldn't wait to do so...as soon as I left. I followed with my next question, 'Do you ever fantasize about masturbating in front of another person?' You said absolutely, it is your favorite fantasy, but you would be too shy and embarrassed to ever do so. I said, 'Okay, what would it be like if I went into the living room and you closed the door, undressed, and went through your full masturbation routine, knowing that I was in the other room and fully aware of what you were doing?' You said that might be interesting and asked if I would be naked and masturbating too. 'No, this is your place and your moment. I just want to share the intimacy of it with you.' (In truth, my erection was pressing hard against my tight jeans, my legs and chest muscles were trembling, and my breathing was choppy due to the excitement that I was trying to contain. I could feel the wetness of the precum oozing out. I wanted nothing more than to get naked and beat off until I came, whether in front of you or alone.)
Before closing the door behind me, I asked 'What if I was to walk in and catch you masturbating?' You responded, 'I would be terribly embarrassed... and also probably very excited.' An honest answer.
How does one time an entrance like this? I would like to keep you in the suspense (and excitement) of not knowing whether I was coming in or not. I would love to time my entrance when you were just at the point of no return, so you could not stop, whether you felt embarrassed or not, and could have the extreme orgasmic experience of being totally exposed just as you are going over the top and completely out of control. Selfishly, however, I would like to come in right now and watch you from the very beginning (preparations, undressing, and foreplay) to the very end...but that will have to wait for another time.
I wait until I know by your moans that you are well into it and burst through the door so that you will feel like you are being caught in the act. You are startled, naturally, and begin to cover yourself. In a soothing tone, I assure you that it is okay, I want you to continue your pleasure, and want to watch. Later (soon) I want to get undressed, kneel between your legs, and watch you masturbate to a second orgasm while I lightly tease my nipples and the tip of my hard, bare dick. For now, I remain fully clothed so that you can feel the delicious shame and excitement of being naked and exposed; caught jilling and made to continue.
In the soft light of your room, I cannot believe the sensuous beauty I see in my first look at your aroused body-the hard nipple that you are rolling between your index and middle fingers, the smooth skin of your thighs, the little bit of bare ass that I can see between your legs (I want to see more of that!), and your wet, engorged pussy. What makes my dick throb, though, is seeing your middle finger circling around your clitoris. I am DYING to see you really finger yourself. I want to see your long, slender finger find its way to your opening, go in just a little bit, and then come back out to circle your clit again. I want to see two fingers disappear all the way up to your fist and just stay there. The expression of sheer pleasure on your face as you feel your long fingers pushing deep inside you. I want to see them come out again, all wet and slippery, betraying your little secret: YOU ARE FINGER-FUCKING YOURSELF. I want to watch them go in and out over and over again; I will never get enough of it. I get so turned on at seeing the pink skin of your wet hole closing around your fingers and the wetness that has oozed down between your buns. I want so badly to reach out and touch everything that I see. To feel the inside of your pussy with my fingers. To slip a finger down your crack and circle it lightly around your anus, perhaps pushing it in up to my fingertip just to see if you like it. As I continue imagining, your thighs and ass muscles tighten perceptibly, your breathing becomes louder and more erratic, your hips lift up toward the ceiling, and you moan long and low.
I especially cherish what comes next: the moment of greatest intimacy between you and me. You regain your senses, your breathing becomes calm and steady; you reopen your eyes and see me sitting there looking at you-naked, with one hand still on your breast and two fingers still up your pussy. This is the moment when you could either freak out or be happy about what has just happened. You look at me with the most knowing stare. In your eyes, I see peace and happiness and gratitude. You ask simply, 'What now?' I ask, 'Tell me what you were thinking about that made you come?' You share your most secret thoughts with me, fully and openly. I drink them in, savoring the intimacy that you are allowing me.
I would like to watch you again, starting at the very beginning. I would like to know-and see!-what you do to get aroused. See how you start your masturbation. Every position you masturbate in. Do you ever hump things? Stick other objects in yourself? I want to know your sexual mind; your thoughts and fantasies? On the horniest of days, what do you fantasize about and how do you masturbate? I would love to share my deepest secrets with you, too, if you would just ask me.