“Reading The Well of Loneliness was one of the things that helped me make it through the concentration camps… I wanted to live long enough to kiss a woman.” – a Polish woman after WW2
In the beginning, we would stay in for stretches of a full day and a night, having sex and stopping only to sleep and eat.
Once I woke up in the darkness to her touching me, almost inside me. And I realized that my body had started responding to her even when I wasn’t awake, not even dreaming.
Masturbation is often just a treat for myself, like junk food or a frivolous purchase – a personal indulgence. Sometimes, however, it feels like much more. It’s a huge part of how I began connecting with my own body (which has led me, among other things, to eat better, quit smoking, sleep more) and feeling more comfortable and secure with being alone.
Today reminded me of those days and nights with her, when everything was so new that the world receded to a dull background noise for both of us, and we were only vaguely aware of the passage of time. Every single moment was pure, unabated pleasure: the buildup, the intensity, the gentle descent. The quiet talks. The slow drift into deep sleep and complete rest. Wake for food. Begin again.
It was exactly the same cycle today, with myself. I fully believe that to connect with someone else, a person has to learn to connect with herself first. Not herself only, but herself first.
I was surprised, I guess, at how much pleasure and contentment I could make myself feel. I laid out food in the morning. As the hours passed, I came alone in bed again and again. After each time I’d drift off to sleep under the soft, thick comforter, not bothering to wash, like how we’d do then, happy to be covered in each other’s warmth and smell.
It isn’t this way for me all the time when I masturbate. But when it is, it’s so wonderful. I’ve mentioned before how society’s uncomfortable with nakedness – so much so that many people can’t even be naked in front of themselves, and feel love.
I’m so grateful for this.
* * * * *
unrelated? recently I passed a group of varsity athletes in their tiny tiny shorts with their long legs and strong arms and woman-swaggers and ponytails a-swing, and I had a brief vision of them somehow fucking me all at once and for some reason, I had no choice in the matter at all.