Day 9- I Feel Myself (a little inspiration)

From I Feel Myself 

Finding positive masturbation references on the web is grim work. I finally found a site through Jane's Guide. It's called I Feel Myself and it's content is all women masturbating. The site describes itself as beautiful and tasteful but that doesn't mean it's not hot. I'd join in a heartbeat if I could afford to and if anyone wants to buy me a month I wouldn't say no. :)

I recommend it, just like Jane's Guide and even if you just watch the free trailer it's a warm up for sure, a different way for me, to see masturbation, watching women who are joyful about touching themselves. There's seems to be nothing fake going on here, there's no director at work though there is a polish to the finished product. It's just women masturbating and coming, and it's clear they are all about the business of self pleasure.

***
I feel myself
watching
wistful
wanting
feeling an admiration for the open
the playful, the serious grind.

Slowly, there is
blood traveling downward,
a thickening of tissue, wet pooling.
a sharpness as my clit gets hard,
waking me up
cunt has a purpose
has a mission.

I am slick and smooth
liquid and heavy
the chatter in my head dies
down
I am weighted, steadied by my own
desire,
always a mystery to me,
but I am coming in
to meet it, anyway.


I land here with you, with words on the page, with damp panties and thighs that are working on an ache. Something about these women, in video, in words, in this wide open bloom of everything, desire and pain, longing and shame moves me into my center. Down in the hush. Looking for catus to break open and suck the aloe out off and swallow to heal these old dry cracks from years of disuse. Not the disuse of this body by me, but the abandonment of my desire, for me.

I want to be fully present in my hands that become your hands that become my hands. I am pining for the wet that becomes you crouched over me, coming or just letting loose. It never matters to me what the exact composition of the wet is- I just know I need it. Salty coffee scented wet or sharper more pungent, it doesn't matter it makes me spasm in response every single time.

What is it about this liquid that must be answered by me.
It's a call and response and I love those no hands orgasms that rip through me, grabbing me and shaking me hard and wringing me out. That's another kind of orgasm. How many kinds are there I wonder? How many different ways to come.

Today is a little dreamy. The hard edges sandpapered down by these wet, round images, by reading the words of women doing this same work of self sex, discovery, reclaiming. The old dark things are displaced by the sound of all these naked women coming, without shame or if they have shame they own it.

I am inspired until I am undone.