I'm Still Autosexual

Almost 4 years ago, my boyfriend and I split up.  At the time, we had been long-distance for much longer than we had been in the same place, and neither of us saw the situation changing.  We both went on with our lives, me being my true autosexual self, and he dated new people.   Last winter, we started the conversation about the possibility of our getting back together again, but we agreed it would only happen if we could live in the same place.  I looked into job opportunities in his town, and to make a long story short, I found a job there and will be moving this summer to join him.  I'm leaving my position as a librarian at an elementary school and moving to his town to take a job teaching adut literacy classes. The thing I missed about not having someone around while sex was happening was having an audience.  People who read my posts here and watch my diddler_darlington videos online know that I love to show off my masturbation.  I love having someone's face right between my legs as I do what I do.  My boyfriend loves to watch, and I love to show, so it was a good match. In the past, there were things my boyfriend wanted to watch that I wasn't content to have someone else in the room for.  For instance, he has always wanted to watch me masturbate while I watch myself in a mirror, but I don't find that appealing.  I just direct him to the diddler_darlington video where I do that when he asks for it.  Also, he has asked to me dirty talk while masturbating, but I so rarely do that to begin with, and I think of that as something for myself only. Our first time back together, I was happy to see he still had the armchair we regularly used for my masturbation shows.  It was just like old times.  Him folding and laying a towel on the cushion for me, me undressing from the waist down, getting into the armchair, leaning back against the throw pillow, and opening and draping my legs over the arms of the chair.  It's like this piece of furniture was designed for the specific purpose of displaying masturbation.  Him sitting on the carpet facing the chair after I assumed the position, his face only inches from my already aroused vulva, the towel already doing its job. I brushed my hair back and held my lips open for him, split beaver style, the same thing I do for myself when I'm getting ready to show off for myself.  I held the position longer than usual, both of us getting more and more excited about what was to come. Just like old times, I teased, masturbated in earnest, and then exploded in orgasm, my voice crying out with joyful abandon in his house, which is always a different situation from me having to take care not to disturb neighbors in my apartment.  My body convulsed, and my legs, which had been resting on the armrests, kicked and flailed.  It was a glorious show. I'm still autosexual even if I'm back in a relationship.  It doesn't change me.