I am an onanist. That is to say, I find my sexual satisfaction through masturbation. It began when I was too poor to be with girls. Then I got good at it and began to like it. It's simple, convenient, and easy. I do miss the human part of a living sex partner: the chatting and snuggling. But at least the sex is taken care of.
Now, I am not lazy nor unimaginative. I pursue an orgasm with the intention of prolonging the experience as much as possible in order to experience as strong an orgasm as possible. The more excited I become, the clearer the characters become. At the height of my excitement, the people become real, if only for a moment. No lust addled lover ever sought his love with more enthusiasm than that with which I contrive an orgasm. The good ones grip me from my neck to my ankles, my whole body thrusting with the forced of the pent up spasm.
So when I begin, I strip out of my day clothes and put on a tee shirt and some panties. I like wearing panties. I like the way the stretchy material gently cups my cock and balls; I like the way I can feel the leg holes curve up my thigh. I also like them because I can stroke myself without restraint and yet without worry that I might orgasm too soon. I've found I can touch myself any way I like, but the sensations will never accumulate into an orgasm when I touch myself through the cloth.
I have several kinds and I have my own panty drawer. I sort them onto three types: the very stretchy and tight ones that press my balls and cock against me; then the cotton ones with the scalloped edging and pretty colored stripes or bouquets; finally, some thin satiny ones that amplify the effect of my touch. Which ones I wear depends on how much time I have to spend with my lover. If I don't have much time, then I start with the satin ones. If I have an afternoon or evening, I'll get into the tight ones. Right now, I am wearing the tight ones: they are yellow and have stripes of lacy material across the front. They are so tight that my cock can't really get very hard. It's sort of a cage I confine myself in to start.
I also have two lovers. One is blond and tall. She has large breasts, wide hips and long legs. When I am with her, I call her "Mistress" or "ma'am." My other lover is shorter and slighter. I call her Linda. She's Hispanic and has darker skin. Her black hair perfectly matches her skin and her eyes. Both girls are fit and very comfortable with their sexuality and the roles that come along with it. Let me tell you of a weekend with my lover.
It is Friday night and we are meeting for the weekend. We are using some condo sort of thing with a living room, kitchen, bath, and bedroom. In the living room, There are two easy chairs, each with its own ottoman. These face a couch running along beneath a wall of windows. Outside, a fairly busy street runs past.
Now I move to my lounge chair. I lean back and sit back with me feet pressed sole to sole. This spreads my legs wide. I run my thumb up from my asshole to the back of my balls. A shiver runs up through my balls. Then I rub my finger tips against the tight cotton imprisoning my cock. From the end of each finger, tingles of pleasure slowly accumulate at the bottom of my cock. I like running my hands across my ass and thighs. I reach up under my shirt and pinch each nipple. Not a lot, but just a sting. I return my hands to my lap and rub my palms up and down against my cock.
I am waiting for Linda and I am mad. She told me that she fucked some guy at some party. We fought but when she knelt naked at my feet and begged me to not end our relationship, I relented. I would forgive and forget but I told her we needed to get some things clear. She needed to commit to our relationship and that entailed reserving her body for me alone. She has my body as hers alone; I need the same back. She agreed. Then I told her that I was still hurt and needed to respond somehow. I wanted to punish her and test her commitment to our relationship. She agreed. And so I am waiting for Linda and I am mad.
Sometime after dinner, I hear her car arrive and I go to the window to watch her. Her legs are not long but shapely. Today she has encased them in black nylons. Her black mini-skirt does not quite hide all of the lacy tops of her stockings and they peek out as she moves. Her blouse is baggy white but thin enough to easily reveal the black bra she wears beneath it. When she stands with her small overnight bag in her hand, the texture of her bra cups outlines clearly. She walks on high heels to the door and knocks. I do not answer at first. She knocks again and I do not open it, but I answer. I tell her to turn slowly around. When her back is to me, I tell her to stop and touch her breasts. She raises her hands and cups her breasts, standing on the front door step for anyone to see.
I let her in and we embrace at first, but then I hold her away from me. I tell her to clasp her hands behind her back. This pushes her breasts out prominently. I reach out and pinch one by the nipple. I feel it harden between my thumb and forefinger. Holding her so intimately and yet at such a distance embarrasses her. She blushes, which excites me. Why are you here? To be with you. To be with me, you will have to let me punish you and you will have to prove your dedication and commitment to our being together. Are you ready to do this? Yes I am. You are what? Ready. Ready for what? Ready to be punished by you and then to prove to you that I have dedicated my heart and my body to you. To prove this, I am going to need you to agree to do anything I tell you to this weekend, no matter how strange. I will not put you in any danger or hurt you. Well, at least not much. Are you willing? I agree. I pull her to me and we kiss passionately. I invite her into the living room.
