Some Things are More Important Than Masturbating

I’ve been carrying on an email correspondence with a friend who wants to get in my pants, but who hasn’t yet gotten up the courage to invite me to a hotel so that she can fuck me. (She also happens to read this blog, and there’s a slim chance she wouldn’t 100% agree with that previous sentence.) We were talking recently about the fact that the slightest misstep during sex can cause a woman to completely lose her momentum.

A guy can be lovingly flicking his tongue over her clit, simultaneously sliding a finger into her pussy to stroke her g-spot, everything is going along well, she’s been inching closer and closer to orgasm, and then suddenly his rhythm gets slightly off, she goes from Level 9 excitement back to Level 1, and they have to start building her up all over again.

Or, through no fault of her partner’s she suddenly remembers how that bitch at work told her she was wearing an ugly top, the mood is ruined, and her partner has no idea why, but the result is the same: the buildup to orgasm starts over almost from the beginning.

Guys aren’t really like this, we don’t get thrown off of our orgasms so easily. As long as we have an erection, the rest pretty much takes care of itself. Sometimes very quickly. (Sorry ladies.)

But we can get distracted.

The other day I had a few minutes to myself. I’d been working all day and needed some mental stimulation, so I went to Smutty and started perusing my feed. A photo caught my eye, so I started following its hashtags and pursuing the theme. As I saw photos that were above average, I was occasionally stroking myself, just to keep the mood going but letting it build slowly.

As I started to follow particular themes even more I started thinking that visual stimulation wasn't enough. I went to find some erotic stories so that I could stimulate my imagination more directly. I was pretty hard by this point, and could have just “finished myself off” if I’d wanted to, but sometimes you want to do it right, not just do it quickly. So I found a story that might or might not have been a good “fit” for what my mood was at the time.

And then I got an instant message from a young hottie I know. Not even a girl that I’m trying to fuck, it’s a completely platonic relationship, but still, she’s young and hot and I enjoy talking to her.

And boom, like that I was no longer even thinking about porn or masturbation, I was more interested in talking to her. It wasn’t cyber, wasn’t sexual at all, just a normal conversation.

I did save a bookmark to the story, though. I’ll go back at some point and read it to see if it’s any good. Knowing my luck it won’t be; I spend more time hunting for erotic literature than actually reading it; good erotic fiction isn’t as easy to come by as erotic photos.