It is 5.30 pm, and I've officially clocked off from work. Working from home during this challenging pandemic time has been more exhausting and stressful for me. I discovered that my energy levels quickly depleted before the end of the day, no thanks to demanding clients and uncooperative colleagues.
I must admit that I regularly masturbate to keep myself sane. Each time I attend a boring meeting that goes an hour overboard, or at the end of a tiring brainstorming session, my mind wanders towards sex. Sex, orgasms, the last partner I fucked, or the steamiest sexting sesh I've indulged in - it's amazing how my mind automatically finds an escape away from the humdrum of a taxing work life.
And when I don't touch myself at the end of a tiresome meeting, I indulge in my daily dose of masturbation accompanied by my favorite porn. It's like a ritual. First, I shut down everything work-related. Slack windows, teleconferencing apps - nothing is spared to create the perfect environment free from work distractions. I ABSOLUTELY hate it when and if someone calls and interrupts my private sessions. The audacity!
Next, I shower and put on a comfy robe. Sometimes, when I feel extra sexy, I take photos of me in lingerie. Who knows, someday I'll be brave enough to start my OnlyFans account.
Then, I start browsing through my favorite porn sites or skim through bookmarks I've created the day before. What is my flavor of the day? It ranges from voyeurism to a few key hentai series I've always indulged in whenever I need something amusing. JAVs never fail to disappoint too!
Today, I felt a tad bit demotivated. Things are breaking apart in my life. I didn't mean to rant in my monologue, but every day for the past week feels like Friday the 13 when things that could go wrong, did go wrong and massively so too. Broke up with my so-called boyfriend of six months last week, and my BFF has been giving me the cold shoulder ever since she found out I got promoted. I made a mental note to see what's up with that bish by the end of the evening, or I'll cut her off. I have no time and tolerance for toxic confidantes.
Disgruntled and annoyed, I laid back on my favorite sofa, a lumpy but super comfortable sofa I christened Chrissy's Cum Couch.
I settled on my favorite erotica site, browsing several pages until I found a fanfic set in Middle Earth. Ooh, this should be interesting!
Here I lay, one hand pleasuring my folds and the other turning the virtual pages of the erotic fanfic upon my iPad. A few minutes into my ritual, I felt something amiss. I don't enjoy this anymore. This monotony. This … escapism. I need to inject something new because, wonder of all wonders, my stress isn't letting up. Briefly, I wondered: am I broken?
My eyes trailed around the living room. I live alone, in this reasonably chic apartment in the heart of the city, and although I'm quite neat by nature, I tend to leave things in places that don't belong. "You're a scatterbrain, is what you are, innit," said Hannah, my best friend once told me many years ago in her best Cockney. Just as that thought floated away, I chanced upon a box under the drop-leaf dining table.
"Oh greattttt, just what I needed," I groaned. It is THE BOX. The box where I stashed everything Ben ever gave me in the span of six months we've been together. Whenever I break up with an SO, or vice versa, I make it a habit to remove all traces of them. And I do mean ALL and everything. Ben was a lousy lover, but he was generous, always giving me bits and pieces of this or that.
Like this beautiful scarf he found at a flea market or a set of Jeffree Star makeup kit. I've cherished them all but when a lover goes out of my life, so do their gifts.
Suddenly, I spied a plain black box at the bottom of the pile. My eyes couldn't make out the words, but when I pulled out the box in plain sight, I laughed uncontrollably.
It was a female masturbator that he had gifted me several weeks into our relationship. Ben was a gadgets guy. He LOVED all forms of gadgets that gave convenience to mankind. This particular sex toy was something he bought online after reading an article about last year's CES show.
"But, I don't need it. I have you," I was so adamant at that time. I did not believe in using sex toys, and I thought sex toys were only for people who are alone, sad, lonely - all the characteristics I don't possess, or so I think.
I opened the box, and out fell a little pink affair, a battery-operated silicone gadget that promises a world of pleasure and delight. It is slim, a little curved, with a nondescript button that is seemingly hidden from view.
Oh, what the hell.
I turned it on, and discovered that the batteries were included (wow, thank you Ben, at least you did something right this time!). I tentatively traced the humming phallic gadget along my nipples and watched as my rosy nubs promptly hardened. It elicited a soft moan from my lips, and while my other hand slipped to my soft petals, I allowed the vibrator to travel indiscriminately along my body, stopping at vital points like my navel until it reached the sweet honeypot below.
My folds were already wet from previous ministrations, and when the frisky vibrator met my love tunnel, all hell broke loose. It was as if it had a life of its own. It did not seek my approval when it ravaged my vivacious vagina. It certainly did not say "please and thank you ma'am" when it thundered upon my unsuspecting clitoris with such ferocity that I almost blacked out in the throes of my orgasm.
And orgasm I did. I came so hard; I squirted all of eight seconds. Eight excruciating seconds, where I have completely underestimated the power I yielded when I held this wand of terror. My pussy clenched around the vibrating scepter so hard. My Kegel instructor would be so proud of me.
It took me ten minutes to come out of my fantastic fervor. The vibrator laid a few inches beside me, discarded in my throes of passion, but hurriedly retrieved and placed back into the box for future use.
And all this only took me less than 15 minutes. It was definitely a cum of convenience. And now, time for a leisurely bath while I order dinner.
Looking at the vibrator sitting primly in its box, I decided to bring it along into the bathtub.
"It needs a good wash after all it's been through, anyway."