Oldy woman watching webchat
I’m careful to keep my breath from becoming a pant, even as my pulse quickens, but this takes much concentration. I have masturbated in this way next to the sleeping bodies of all my serious, committed partners who came before my husband. This orgasm is a controlled, measured, calculated experience.One afternoon, after he’d fallen into a deep post-sex slumber, I serviced myself with my second, third, and fourth orgasm beside him.That was the first time I’d experienced such a level of both secrecy and shame.Not just tiny, embarrassed sobs, but humiliated wails. He is confused now as he pulls me close to him, laughing nervously at my abrupt shift in disposition. Going out and fucking — even someone you don’t really like — is wild, dangerous, but essentially social and shared.
This technique is one of the many things I learned, but I had a whole other kind of education going on, which had long filled my head with other ideas — sex is something that happens between a man and woman who love each other; masturbation is a sin.
And that I believed, for a really long time, that my addiction made me a broken person, a disgusting person, a person unworthy of love.
I told him these things from the start because I met him at a time in my life where I was ready and open for change.
I wish he’d stop prying, but I realize something else is happening here.
Not only is he trying to be considerate; he’s also trying to get to know me.