On Watching a Man Wank

Masturbation is a private affair.

Confined to your bedroom. In the dark. At night. Alone. The only sounds being the light hum of the vibrator, the rustling of sheets as you jerk it, the squelching of hands rubbing over the bits we pretend we don’t have, and sometimes, the faintest whisper of porn, so quiet that someone in the bed beside us wouldn’t be able to hear it.

Even now, as fully grown humans, we shield the fact that we touch ourselves.

Somehow, 69 doesn’t get a bad wrap. Plastered across every man and women's glossy magazine. Hailed as one of “10 tips to upgrade your sex game”. You put their bits in your mouth and they put yours in theirs, all at the same time. Which by the way is an inordinate amount of hard work considering it's not easy to focus on the task at hand when you’re about to tip over the edge of pleasure/trying not to squash their head/can't breathe because there's a cock lodged in the back of your throat.

Of the last 3 guys I’ve asked to masturbate for me, all 3 have agreed - on the condition that I do it too. The idea of them doing it, alone, for my pleasure so unbelievably foreign to them.

Maybe it's societies (bullshit) view that only females masturbating can be a turn on or maybe it's a severe bout of self-consciousness, whatever it is one thing has become clear.

Touching your partner is okay but touching yourself in front of your partner, not so much. Not unless they're doing it too. Then it's not weird. Right?

Why the fuck can we not just whack one out for our partner without some form of reciprocation? Religion? Politics? Politeness? I don’t know.

Don't get me wrong, I did it, I liked it, I got off but it’s just not what I wanted to see. Or more, not from the angle I wanted to see. Not how I wanted to get off. In fact, I didn't even want to get off. I just wanted to watch and get turned on.

Watching a man go to town on his dick is hot. Being a voyeur to his alone time turns me into a dripping puddle of lust. Dominance and submission fighting for the win. A beautiful desperation. A need to come.

I want to see it all. His naked frame draped across the bed. Sheets pushed to the side, perfectly framing the scene on display. An unimpeded hand hard at work. A thick dick between his fingers standing proud, basking in delight at the attention.

His other hand, hastily scrubbing through his choice of filth flickering across the screen of his phone. Searching for the perfect moment, the right imagery to push him over the edge. But never stopping the rhythmic tugging.

There's a practised ease in his movements. How his hand naturally wraps itself loosely around his cock. His wrist instinctually bending up and down at the instruction of the more defined muscles in his forearm. The head of his cock swiftly disappears and reappears out through the top of his clasped hand as he slides it up an down, expertly but not thinking about it in the slightest.

I want to see him lick his fingers, all four, and rub that wetness over the head of his cock. You know when they do that? Running their hand the full length up their cock, gliding their fingers over the head, rotating and returning to their original position to resume the route back down.

I want to see his stomach tense as he nears the end. His heavy balls jiggling between his thighs from the ministrations above. How he tenses his ass and lifts his hips slightly. Thrusting further into his fist. The way his breathing hastens, sharp inhalations and paused breaths. His clenched jaw. Telling signs that he’s coming close.

But the best part, the most important part, is to see his face. That split second when he’s pushed himself over the edge. Time stops. His jaw clenched, his lungs empty, his eyes closed. Release. That brief moment in time between when he feels the stirrings within and when the results of his labour are shown in thick spurts across his stomach.

Because that’s where the money is.

Release, satisfaction and sexual gratification, all at his own hand, shown in a stopped split second in time, on his face.

Image by Olichel on Pixabay