So last week I was getting very excited indeed about Tabitha Rayne’s #30daysorgasmfun. I love the idea of masturbation as a means of improving mental health, and I was looking forward to tailoring it a little.
To be honest, of my own accord I probably masturbate pretty much every day anyway, but it’s not always a very conscious process, and I know that sometimes I rely on masturbation as a means of avoiding my feelings. It can sometimes get a bit like… Feeling bored? Have a wank. Feeling happy? Have a wank. Feeling angsty/ cross/ upset/ not sure what yet but it’s probably not good? Yeah, I’ll have a bit of a fiddle, that’ll shift things. And masturbation as a way to postpone sitting down and getting to work? If they ever announce tryouts for a Great Britain Olympic Procrasturbation team I will in all likelihood be late due to deciding to play with myself before I leave the house.
So the aim of masturbating every day for 30 Days for me was going to be reconnection- making the decision to masturbate solely for pleasure. I wanted to reconnect with my body and deemphasise the connection I’ve made between orgasm and avoidance or distraction. And, not only that, I’d have something to blog about, if I chose to and if there was anything interesting to say, for a whole month- which would definitely be good for my mental health. It was gonna be great!
And then, out of the blue, I started talking to a man I was playing with online towards the end of last year. A significant element of our play dynamic was orgasm control and denial; sometimes orgasm as reward, occasionally removal of masturbation privileges as punishment, just generally me not being in charge of when and how I masturbate and, when I do, if it results in orgasm or not.
We started playing again. I handed over control of my orgasms again, happily and willingly. When the the 31st March rolled into sight I was obediently refraining from touching myself altogether, as a semi- punishment for having lost a buttplug (I don’t know where the fucking thing’s gone, its not where I left it when I went away two months ago and it’s all very perturbing).
So there I was, on temporary lockdown, hands metaphorically above the covers where we could see them at all times. And then I remembered #30daysoffun. Ah well, I thought. I guess that won’t be happening now. Never mind.
EXCEPT what I forgot is that He’s not stupid, and knows that sluts like myself, who are in the habit of making themselves come pretty much every day, are probably not going to deal too well with then having their orgasm privileges removed completely for long stretches of time. In my experience I’m generally not that suited to long- term denial- I get sad and frustrated and bolshy, if I’m allowed to edge I push things too far and then feel guilty and un- submissive. I’ve been reminded that orgasm control and orgasm denial are two different things, and don’t need to be conflated. The former does not necessarily require the latter. I’ve actually been allowed to come about every other day, sometimes more than once daily. My gentleman friend is very good to me.
So: the first week has been a treat. I’ve noticed that I’ve pretty much lost the ability to make myself come with fingers in an extremely short time- it will generally take me upwards of 15 minutes to come at the moment. I’m not sad about this, because that’s how I was wanking for years before I realised I was kinky and could relax into the knowledge of what really turned me on, and those pre- kink orgasms were some mechanistic fast food bullshit which left me feeling unfulfilled and empty. The more leisurely version is bound to involve a more mindful engagement with my body; this week’s play has involved a lot more stroking, and going at a much slower pace, and a fair amount of thoughtful pausing at junctures to breathe and enjoy and reassess. It’s been really lush.
I’ve not spreadsheeted my orgasms, because I am sore afeart of the spreadsheet and all its bedevilments, but I will say that my highlights have been;
April 2nd, when I was allowed to come twice, once with fingers and once with dildo, and then offered to lick the dildo clean when I was done… and it required a lot of licking.
April 4th, when I was ordered to come once before bedtime, and by bedtime I really didn’t want to come, because I was tired and not horny. But after a few false starts I got there in the end, and the results were fairly incendiary considering I hadn’t wanted to masturbate at the start. Which, I dunno- maybe I get a little bit turned on when (within limits obviously) I have to do things I wouldn’t of my own accord, in order to please someone else. MAYBE. WHO KNOWS.
April 5th, when I was too horny to concentrate on my studies, and was allowed a mid- afternoon orgasm to cleanse the palate. This orgasm was a fairly multi- media undertaking, which involved an element of crowdsharing and took an almightily long time to complete the journey from idea genesis to fruition. However, I’d say that all involved enjoyed the creative process.
April 7th, when I didn’t come, but I did go out and get my arse panelled with hand and implement, and run around wearing nothing but holdups and high heels for a little bit. After three months of no impact play and six weeks of culturally enforced modesty, this was emotionally orgasmic.
Oh, and I found the buttplug. It was in the knicker drawer all the time!