On Renewed Interest In Masturbation.

I remember how I used to write about sex or my sexuality a lot. I’ve come to understand that I did so because I was trying to accept that part of myself. Moreover, with overexposure, I felt that side of me was being ubiquitous among my facets. I didn’t particularly like the misrepresentation, so there was a jerk in the other way to “hide” that.

However, I find myself a point a bit beyond that. Surely I can casually share my recent self-love while enjoying my breakfast, can I not?

Surely!

Growing up, I discovered the joys of self-love. (Big smacking duh, right?) To say I indulged was an understatement. I seemed to take pride in being able to get myself off frequently. Naturally, I mistook being able to orgasm frequently with having “a raging sex drive!” Somehow, I thought this was a desirable quality I have, as opposed to having a dormant sex drive. Unfortunately, I began to masturbate out of sheer boredom, or worse, because nothing else really felt all that good. Thus when I’ve tried to bring back the “passion” of masturbation, and just masturbate when the mood strikes me, I’ve been insecure in my infrequency.

Having gained a bit of calm to myself, I can objectively say I’m averaging about once a week. My former self would be embarassed at such a thing. It’s not the quantity that matters, I say, it’s the quality.

It’s a strange thing to want to “let go” with yourself. I mean, I’ve orgasmed over a thousand times now in my lifetime. (Just hazarding a guess via averages.) But, that’s just orgasms. Many of them were just token orgasms and not that good. Self-love is no different than being with a partner. I am my partner. My pleasure matters most.

Coupled with the new sexual apparatus I’m growing, masturbation really has taken on a new meaning. I really can masturbate without artificial lubricants now. It’s freeing. I can appreciate my body as it was meant to be. It makes sense.

Funny. And my original inspiration was just to annotate how good I smell. It may sound strange, but it’s something that I’ve recognized in my nose. My former scent association with masturbation was always some lotion. Something artificial. But masturbating yesterday, I smelled me. It was probably just precum. The best lubricant known to man(kind). Smells good, tastes good.

The scent lingered around my cock to this morning. It’s the scent of self-love. I’d wear it as a cologne if it wouldn’t offend the world. I’d keep that scent as long as possible if I didn’t know better. “A pleasant fresh scent tomorrow is the scent you’d prefer to wash off tomorrow!” Moreover, Monday is one of my designated tugging days. Yes, I’m still up to my foreskin restoration tricks. It’s among my pet projects, alongside exercising.

I did something I can’t recall doing in a long time, last night. My first session I was at my computer, as I usually was. But falling asleep, I was thinking about somebody in particular and it hit me. I’m thinking about a female while masturbating in bed. Much fun! Why the hell haven’t I thought about doing this before?

Oh right. See, I hate getting semen in my pubic hair. Part of the reason I used to shave it. It just. Irks me. Before fully letting go, I grabbed a t-shirt to angle my ejaculations into. It was primal, it was pleasurable, and I nodded off almost immediately afterwards (after placing the t-shirt in my hamper, that is).

To think of the years where I cheated myself with a token handjob. I should demand the same dedication I’d demand out of my potential lover. It just isn’t good masturbation without good foreplay.

I think I said mostly what I wanted to say. Off to school with me!