What goes through my head when I touch myself?
So many things, so many images.
Sometimes it’s a girl stroking my clit with her tongue, gently fucking me with her fingers. Sometimes it’s a guy, fucking me hard and deep, his thick cock filling me.
Sometimes I do nothing more than concentrate on the sensations; a combination of masturbation and meditation.
The thing is, the imagery isn’t really important, it’s the sensations that matter; the warm aroused feeling that spreads through me, the pulsing of my cunt and womb as the sensations become ever more intense, the throbbing of my clit as my fingers press against it.
The image in my head, a stray naughty thought, a particular feeling can give my response a context, a focus, pushing me to the edge.
When I come, the sensations consume all else. I am no longer thinking, I am no longer imagining, I am simply experiencing. My orgasm is all there is and I am at the eye of its storm, helpless in its grip as it takes me where it will.
That’s what happens when I touch myself…