Historically speaking, I’m not a very good masturbator. I can do it, I do do it, but it’s always been an act of need, not want. I don’t spend time with my body in that way, I never have, and there have been times that I really wished I did. In the past I’ve written about utilitarian orgasms and the frustration of the forcible conflation of wanking with self care, especially for women, and why that is a hard pill for me to swallow. I’ve discussed how month-long masturbatory memes make me feel anxious and left out. I’ve whinged into the void on many occasions and even written about facing the fear of masturbating with a partner, as a way of working through that fear.  Well, I’m happy to say that my relationship with self pleasure is changing and evolving. Slowly.

This colourful tableau is the aftermath of a rigorous and very productive self-smash-sesh: nipple suckers, a slim butt plug for just enough pressure and stimulation, and two vibes. This is not necessarily my go-to arsenal but multi-toy masturbation is really new to me but I’ve been trying to branch out. I am also enjoying a new regime of mandatory self-pleasure-self-care. Finding new inspiration by giving up control around masturbation has begun to change how I view it. It’s not about trying to “win” permission to cum, it’s about expressing the desire to explore myself and being guided or supported through the experience. Giving up control allows me to experience myself without self criticism and without getting into my own head. If the decisions aren’t mine, I won’t doubt them. Silly, right? But finding success in the process, through submission, is giving me the confidence and faith in my own ability to access self-pleasure on a deeper, more fulfilling level.

Not to mention it’s hot as fuck.

 

Every Damn Day In June

 

 

 

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