Content: Masturbation. Sexual Pleasure.
A Gentle NSFW Reminder: Erotic/explicit langauge. The still photos accompanying this piece are taken from a sexual experience. There is no nudity.
Hello, My Beauties. On Tuesday I watched myself masturbating and I’ve been processing the experience for the past few days.
Seeing myself with compassion and care has always been a challenge. Learning how to practice kindness is a work in progress.
So, I recorded myself masturbating and then watched myself experiencing pleasure while taking time to confront the negative thoughts that arose.
It was transformative.
How did the idea of watching myself masturbate create the space to practice kindness?
I’ve always struggled with seeing the positive in myself. My self-examination tends toward the negative. Regardless of the angle, when I look inward, it’s hard to see past a lot of self-imposed, herculean expectations.
I’ve got to work to see the good. And yet, even with those challenges, I’m making progress. These days I feel more authentically me than at any other point in my life. Weird, huh?
What’s inspired all this self-reflection?
My birthday. Last month, I turned 49. It occurred to me that even though I grapple with staying positive, I’m learning how to see myself with more clarity and kindness.
With all this racing around in my head, I made the decision to see if I could practice kindness intentionally. What better way to practice a kind gaze than watching myself in a raw, unguarded moment? And what’s more raw and unguarded than masturbating.
Practice Kindness through Self-Love. That’s the Plan, Right?
I decided to celebrate the beginning of my 50th year by creating a sensual experience for me and about me.
Even the preparation was amazing. The lead up to recording myself was like preparing for a date. I put on my favorite lingerie. Painted my lips berry red and set out to seduce myself.
It was a little nerve-wracking at first. I was by myself with my favorite sex toy (shout out to the Bellesa for the Khali. It’s an incredible piece of engineering). Still, it didn’t feel like I was the only one in the room. In fact, it felt like all those negative voices were piling in, shouting at me to abandon my plan.
How will masturbating help you practice kindness toward yourself? Ugh, you’re deluded. You’re too old, too fat, and homely. What if you click on the wrong thing and send it to your mom by accident? This is just an echo of past abuse…And on. And on. Ad infinitum.
Five minutes of mindful breathing later, I poured a healthy dollop of lube onto my vibrator and clicked the remote to start recording. Thirty minutes later, sated and smiling, I curled up and watched myself.
And what I saw was beautiful.
I’d executed some creative engineering to rig my phone to the headboard. In the first few minutes, I kept alternating between closing my eyes and checking in with the camera. Soon I began to lose the sense of self-consciousness.
The tension in my body eased like it does when I curl up in bed at the end of a long day. My shoulders relaxed downward, and the crease between my brows went slack. I smiled. A soft, private curve of lips meant for me, not the camera.
Relaxing enough to play, I palmed my breasts with one hand and with the other, I pet my clit with the head of the vibrator. A moment of intense sensation had me gasping, mouth open, tongue snaking out along my bottom lip.
A full-bodied tremble swelled at my center as my pleasure spun outward, rising and falling like a drop spindle. Even in my excitement, I was careful with my body. But I didn’t see a disabled woman abdicating pleasure for comfort. No. The way I moved, sensitive to the limitations of my joints, but still wholly sensual, didn’t look like restriction.
In fact, to me, it looked like love.
It didn’t take me long to reach the first summit. I parted my labia with slippery fingers and eased the thick bulb of the vibrator’s head into my pussy. Starting slow, I began to thrust, the rabbit ears on the toy shivered against the tender pearl of flesh at my center while the shaft massaged the walls of my cunt.
The second wave of sugary delight snaked up my spine, and I raised my thighs, shifting the angle of the toy. I rocked and stroked against the vibration until I was on the cusp of coming. I held myself in that space, savoring the heady concoction of delicious frustration and excitement.
Never let it be said that I don’t love a good tease.
I was lost in a fantasy of my honey directing my actions. He used his knowledge of my body and drew pleasure from me, like he was sucking the juice from succulent fruit. And in return, I poured myself out for him, my body an offering to quench his thirst.
The thrusting rhythm visible in the movement of my arms quickened as my climax began to whorl, low in the cradle of my hips. Bearing down and tightening my inner muscles, I gripped the vibrator with each outward pull. My breath sped up, and soft sighs changed to needy whines.
It looks like I’m a greedy brat, even when I’m on my own.
Chasing my orgasm, it wasn’t long before the walls of my cunt pulsed. I captured the sweet explosion of heat. It was like holding the sun in my hands, it’s warmth soaking into my skin, scorching, and bright.
When I viewed the recording, I was surprised by the lack of negativity I brought to the experience. I’d expected to watch with a critical eye. But it wasn’t a struggle at all. Perhaps the earth-splitting orgasm helped tamp down those feelings.
Or maybe it was that I’d found a way to commit to practicing a kinder gaze.
Regardless, what I saw in that recording was beauty, acceptance, and care, not age or disability. Witnessing myself experience something beautiful with such presence was thrilling. The gift of watching a manifestation of the work I’ve done to live more fully in my body and mind was worth any initial awkwardness.
Sure, not everyone will be able to get behind watching themselves masturbate. But I want to encourage everyone to find a way to practice kindness toward themselves and see what happens.
Be well, be wonderful, and above all, be you.