I woke up this morning to the memory of an intense session of self-love I had indulged in last night thinking about the cute guy from the bike trip. I'd asked about his tent, and let me look inside, forgetting he'd masturbated there earlier that morning. The sun had been beating down on the tent and the unmistakable smell of semen was overpowering. On top of that, a soiled bike jersey that he had obviously used to clean up his mess was lying next to his sleeping bag.
I pretended not to notice, but I'm sure he was mortified as soon as I unzipped the door and revealed the evidence. Understandably, the poor guy pretty much avoided me the rest of the trip.
I, on the other hand, found the scene incredibly arousing and couldn't stop fantasizing about what he had done -- picturing him playing with himself in the morning sunlight and squirting all over the place. I wanted desperately to follow suit, but unfortunately, I had a tentmate, and the resulting lack of privacy prevented me from doing so.
By the time I got home, I was climbing the walls; frantic for release. I indulged in a beautiful masturbatory fantasy featuring the cute boy as my perfect lover. It was arguably the most memorable solo sex I've ever experienced.
So, when I opened my e-mail in the morning and saw a note from the cute guy with a link to purchase a tent like his and a note that said, "Let's talk about it," I was super excited.
I had no doubt what he wanted to talk about, and I was more than willing to cooperate.
I responded, "I'd like that too. What about tonight here in my apartment? I can get us a pizza."
He must have been sitting at his computer, because he responded immediately, "Fabulous."
I gave him my address and we agreed to 6 pm.
It turned out to be a long day. My intent had been to devote most of the morning to repeating the extraordinary session I'd had last night. But now that the cute boy was coming over to confront his embarrassment, I wanted to be ready for anything. I'd spent a whole week of the bike trip without an orgasm. Certainly, I could endure one more day of abstention. If things got interesting with the cute guy, I wanted my sexual appetite to be off the charts. When the doorbell finally rang, I was ready. There was no question that I'd met my objective!
I opened the door dressed in a simple pair of shorts and a soft cotton tank top with no bra. I'd seen him stealing glances at my small breasts during the trip, and I decided to give him something a little more provocative to look at than my bike jersey and sports bra. If you looked closely, you could see just a hint of nipple through the soft material. I hoped he would pick up on the message I was trying to send.
We exchanged pleasantries while we ate the pizza and drank my favorite cheap wine. We talked about every day stuff like music, movies, books and, of course, cycling. He was harder core than I, and devoted much of his free time to peddling. No wonder his body was so lean and fit.
The conversation was fine, but the topic that I thought we both knew he had come to discuss remained the elephant in the room. I had the horrible thought that when he e-mailed, "Let's talk about it," he actually meant his tent rather than the evidence we discovered inside. Or maybe he'd simply lost his nerve and the evening would end in frustration. I thought about gently broaching the subject by saying something like, "Is there anything else you feel like talking about?" But I figured he was the one with the agenda and he needed to take the initiative.
Finally, he gathered his courage and said, "Um, I, I, obviously didn't mean for you to see what you saw in my tent the other day. When you started unzipping the door I suddenly remembered what I'd done in there that morning. I was horrified, but it was too late to tell you to stop. I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed. I spent the rest of the trip wallowing in guilt and shame."
"I'm so sorry you felt that way. But you have absolutely nothing to feel guilty or ashamed about. It's OK for you to masturbate! Masturbation is an important, healthy part of life -- especially for 20-somethings like us. And it's not like it's optional. For me, my body virtually MAKES me do it. I start thinking about the explosion of pure bliss and extasy that masturbating gives me; not to mention a wonderful sense of satisfaction and sexual fulfillment, and just I can't help but do it. There must be a reason for such irresistible urges. If masturbation was somehow wrong, why would nature work so hard to make me to do it?" Every day, I thank God I can masturbate! If I'd been quick enough, I could probably have disarmed the whole situation by making a joke about it, or confronting the topic head on. But I didn't think fast enough for that."
"Let me tell you something else. I wasn't offended or judgmental about what we'd found. I was EXCITED by it. I was already suffering from the inability to touch myself because my tentmate was always around. Smelling your semen and seeing the stains on your jersey nearly drove me crazy. I couldn't stop thinking about you doing it and what it would be like to watch. By the time I got home, and I could relieve myself, I could literally think of nothing else.
He looked at her through tears of relief and said, "Thank you so much for saying that! I've felt so awful that I haven't even been able to do it since then. All I could think about was your knowing. That's why I avoided you for the rest of the trip; even though you were by far the most appealing girl there. I've never been caught before, so you're the only person on the planet that knows for sure that I masturbate. To be honest, I'm still embarrassed about it, but I understand what you mean about cravings. I have roommates and one of them sleeps in the same room as me. So, lots of times I have to resort to a quickie in the shower or some random bathroom in order to get the release I desperately need. But those sessions aren't nearly as satisfying as when I can relax, take my time and truly appreciate the wonderful feelings you described. That's why being alone in my tent is so special for me. Now that I know you think it's OK, I can start doing it again."
"That's so sweet. I'm sorry you're so conflicted about your masturbating, but you're obviously not the only one. Part of it's a guy thing. Most guys think masturbating is for losers who can't find a girl, instead of an essential act of sexual development and self-love. And even though society deems it something to feel guilty or ashamed about, that's definitely not the case. In fact, it's something to be celebrated; and even shared. Which gives me an idea! If you haven't done it since that day in your tent, you must be about ready to burst. Now that you know that I know you masturbate, you've got nothing to hide. Why don't you show me how you do it!"
His face turned beet red. The thought of masturbating for this beautiful girl was off the charts exciting. But it was also paralyzing. He just sat there unable to think of anything to say.
"Oh, come on. You know you want to. Just trust me. It'll be OK and you'll be able to use the memory over and over again. Why don't you just lay down on my bed and pretend you're back in your tent. Only this time, I'll be watching, and you can give me the play-by-play."
The next thing they knew, he was propped up with a pillow leaning against the headboard of her double bed and she was sitting cross-legged next to him.
"OK," she said, "Pretend like you've just crawled into your tent -- show me what happened next."
He took off his shoes and sox and put them at the foot of her bed which was also his imaginary sleeping bag. Then he took off his tee-shirt put it next to him on the bed.
