Why Masturbating in Front of Him Is My Highest Goal
I‘m not there yet, but I’m getting closer.
I was sitting on the edge of the tub, rubbing lotion into my body, mildly enjoying the pressure of my fingers on my damp skin, when I noticed him staring.
He was lying in the water with his head back, eyes wide.
And the idea of him watching me, him captivated by my body, started to arouse me. The mild pleasure from my hands on my skin began to intensify, eroticize, as they joined his eyes in caressing my shoulders, breasts, and nipples.
He asked me to bring the candle closer, and if I wouldn’t mind opening my legs? He stretched his toes out towards my calves to coax them open.
I let my knees fall outward, closed my eyes, and continued touching my body, surrendering to the pleasure rolling through me. I moaned as the heavens stormed. Bliss. Eternity. Oneness. I found it there in those moments.
But it only lasted for a minute at most. Soon enough, Doubt knocked and knocked and came flooding in.
How could he really be enjoying this? Sitting over there. You, completely focused on yourself — ignoring him? It’s selfish. Selfish, it repeated with a cackle.
