A solo story, with a fair amount of female inspiration, that happened this spring.
A female friend of mine and I recently admitted to each other our shared appetite for masturbation. We're both married, and in our unions we're each the more libidinous partner, our sex drives far more amplified than our spouses'. So, to keep from going crazy, we masturbate.
A lot, apparently.
We were talking one day about our techniques and she mentioned that she wanted to get a vibrator. She had thought about getting one in college but resisted. Now, with our ongoing banter about our sex lives, the thought returned. She checked out a few online, sought my opinion, and considered her options.
I left for a week's vacation but stayed in touch with her periodically through texts. One morning she sent me a note: 'I bought you a present.' Perplexed, I was curious to know what it was, and why she got me something in the first place.
When I returned the next week, she popped by one day with a box. With a sly smile on her face, she asked me to open it. I slit the box with a razor, removed the packing paper and found a sleek, understated rabbit vibrator. I was thrilled - and aroused - that she got herself one. While I relished the thought of her using it, teasing herself with it, her body enveloping it, launching herself into many majestic orgasms, I couldn't figure out how that qualified as a present for me.
'Keep looking,' she said.
Rummaging further, I found a small box for a simple, urbane vibrating cock ring. I was stunned: one, that she would get me such a thing; and two, that I had to appear enthusiastically gracious to this dear friend of mine.
I can't stand things that vibrate. Massagers, mechanical toothbrushes, even my own humming create a resonance within me that I find grating. The ring couldn't offer anything different.
I was wrong.
I absolutely love it, so much so that I try not to overuse it; I don't want my body to dull to its effects. One of the best orgasms I've had with it I brought on the other night:
My wife had fallen asleep early. It had been over a week since I made love, either with her or myself, and I needed to cum. Not wanting to disturb her slipping into bed, I stepped lightly, nude, to the computer table and logged on. I came to SoloTouch to check the recently submitted stories. My cock responded half-heartedly. Aware but disinterested, it distended, stretching out over my scrotum until the tip touched the towel blanketing the chair, but it was far from erect. After a few more, I entered the archives, visiting stories I had enjoyed before. My cock stirred, rising, as if pleased to be back among old friends.
I sat, lit only by the cool glow of the computer screen, the lazy spin of the ceiling fan and my breathing being the only sound, reading submissions past. My cock was fully hard, bobbing gently with each beat of my heart, but I wanted more. I switched to a site offering images, both still and motion. I found a clip of a woman masturbating, her right index finger lightly encircling her clit as her left hand glided over her body, her breasts, settling atop the firm raspberry of her right nipple. My turgid cock swelled robustly and climbed toward the ceiling, straining to pay attention and to be paid attention to. The first bead of pre-cum bubbled up and rolled down my shaft. I wanted to glide my fingertip through the trail it made along the underside of my distended penis, but I resisted. I wanted to enjoy the sensation of my bloated, engorged cock, but I craved to intensify it without touching myself.
I got my cock ring.
Stretching the band, I slipped it over my shaft, sliding it down until it fit snuggly at the base. The vibrator is cocooned in a rubber pod that is smooth at one end and textured with small cones at the other. I positioned the pod on the underside of my cock with the nubs pressing into my scrotum. Gently restricted, I felt my cock swell thicker, watching the vein that runs along the side bulge and my glans flare. My cock twitched involuntarily, expelling another bead of pre-cum; I delighted in the feel of it rolling down the stretched skin of my shaft until it reached the band at the base.
Soon I was flexing my muscles purposely, purposefully, making my cock jump and bounce, feeling it swell and recoil with blood, more pre-cum emerging as I did. I had yet to turn on the vibrator and, apart from securing the ring around me, I had yet to touch myself. I continued to browse images and videos, contracting my muscles rhythmically all the while. When I found a particularly powerful image or scene, my cock would spasm on its own.
I found a long excerpt of a film from the '70s. Some of it had not aged well, which make me chuckle quietly to myself. Some of it, because these films were breaking new ground and were beholden to no rules, was captivating. It was great to see natural bodies-real breasts and pubic hair-and to see how the early filmmakers portrayed unbridled sex on the screen.
I turned the vibrator on. The vibrations traveled throughout my scrotum and down along my shaft deep within, rousing parts of my anatomy that are usually neglected. A pre-cum tear fell from the side of my crown and landed on my left thigh, gliding slowly along to the towel below.
The first scene in the clip was coming, in every sense, to an end. The final shot was a steely cock hovering above a woman's face. Like mine, nothing was touching him; it was just the front of his hips, his scrotum and his bloated erection jutting in from the right side of the screen. His ejaculation was filmed in super slow motion, the pause between pulses extended to seven to ten seconds. His cock jerked upwards, propelling his cum out, sending it flying over the woman's head. Then it would rest, suspended swollen in the air. Suddenly it would spasm violently upward again, sending another blast of cum in the air. As his ejaculations waned, the woman rose, cum streaked across her hair, and kissed the underside of his cock, causing it to shudder on her lips and cheek. I was mesmerized.
I rolled the clip back. As the film resumed, I flexed my buzzing cock in time with the one on screen. On one I tensed so hard that I forced out a dollop of cum. Thicker and heavier than pre-cum, it slid hot, glacially, down my shaft. My cock was electrified. I could cum at any moment.
I abandoned the classic film and returned to the woman masturbating. I forwarded to the point where she was in the final ascent to her own orgasm. I watched unblinking as her fingers blurred over her clit and her hips rocked and swayed, occasionally thrusting up against her hand. All the while, I flexed my cock. I ran my hand across my chest, brushing my right nipple. My cock felt like steel. I switched from flexing to bearing down, forcing more blood into my cock. My cockhead ballooned. I also forced out a surge of cum. In the light of screen I could see the contrast between smoky purples of my tumescent erection and the white hot stream of semen cascading down the side.
The woman in the clip came. As I watched her sex pulse and throb, her outer lips darken, her slick inner lips swell and part, I tensed and held my muscles tight as her throaty cries filled my ears. I slid down the chair and ran my hands along my thighs, lifting my hips off the chair against the resistance of my arms, mimicking sinking my cock deep in my wife when she sits in my lap. Soon I could feel my orgasm roil deep within. Building, building, my orgasm exploded through me. My cock ruptured, hurling my semen up my torso onto my chest. After the third burst I grabbed my cock with my left hand, stroking slowly, massaging my cum around my staff. I gently grazed my corona, and felt another echoed wave reverberate through me. I orgasmed lightly again.
With my abating cock still in my hand, I put my head back and caught my breath. I released my penis and ran my hand across my chest, amazed at the amount of cum and the distance it travelled. Cleaning up, I bid my visual aides a good night, slipped into bed, quietly thanking my friend for this gift that keeps giving.