To most people, I appear shy in public, although friendly and caring. They don’t know that hidden behind the quiet exterior is a sex addict. I can’t get enough of it! Some days I cannot stop thinking about my cock. Maybe I’m not totally obsessed with it, but at least twenty times a day, I do think about my cock. I think about what it looks like, what it feels like between my legs, in my briefs or boxers. I think even more of how it feels when I get to stroke it. I have been masturbating most of my life and, for as long as I can remember, jacking off at least once every day, if not more.
Now, as a happily married guy for over 28 years, I still have to admit to enjoying some of my most intense orgasms solo. I still usually do it a minimum of four or five times a week and on good weeks, almost daily. I don’t think my wife has any problems with my masturbating, but it’s something we’ve never talked about. For several years while the kids were still at home, it was difficult to find enough privacy for a good, intense masturbation session, but it has always continued to be a wonderful part of my sex life. Nowadays, I can look forward to those times and plan more on how to have a great time with my cock!
Though I’ve never kept a true diary on my masturbatory exploits, I thought I’d reminisce a bit and share just how important masturbation has always been to me.
I arrived back in town from a one-week business trip. I had been able to catch a slightly earlier flight and get home about an hour before initially planned. After I paid the taxi driver and took my bag and briefcase inside the house, I could hear the sound of the shower coming from our bedroom upstairs. I walked on up and along the hallway, smiling the whole way, figuring I’d sneak up on my wife. Maybe I could get a little peek before announcing I was home. I had missed her tremendously the past week.
When I got to our bedroom door, I looked beyond and noticed the bathroom door was open slightly. I smiled ever broader as I knew that would make it easier to peer inside for a moment or two and watch my wife in the glass-enclosed shower stall. I laid my bag on the bed then walked toward the bathroom. When I got to the door, I slowly leaned toward the three- or four-inch opening and saw her reflection in the large mirror over the sinks.
Surprise was far from the lone response I felt at that moment. Shock made up part of my reaction, but intense amazement at seeing her stark and real better describes the emotion. There she was, leaning back against the shower wall with the hand-held shower massager right between her spread legs!
I have long wondered whether my wife masturbated, but in our twenty-eight wonderful years together, we never discussed the subject. I had not raised the question because I figured this was a very private thing for her, and she was entitled to do it or not do it as she pleased. Our sex life had been great, and I had seen no need to upset a good thing. Although I have masturbated while fantasizing about Mary Ann pleasuring herself in front of me, I never once pictured her doing herself this way.
So though I wasn’t surprised my wife was naked in the shower, I felt intensely amazed to find my wife masturbating in all her sexy glory right before my eyes!
I briefly thought of how, when I masturbated in the shower—which I do often enough—I typically felt rushed, and it wasn’t as great. But one thing I could usually do is make more noise. Although I couldn’t take my time, I did enjoy it, and my orgasms were typically filled with grunts and groans that tended to enhance the experience. Not having to worry about the noise I make is more of a turn-on. Of course, a closed door can muffle only so much noise!
As my wife got more and more into what she was doing, her movements got stronger and more obvious. Her panting grew louder, punctuated with soft little moans and sighs. Her voice was no more than a whisper, really, but in the bathroom, it seemed like she was gasping loudly with excitement.
By then, I had unzipped, dropped my pants and briefs, and was gently stroking as my wife pleasured herself unknowingly before me. I was careful, though, not to move too much. I still didn’t want to give away the fact that I was peeping. I realized that if I could see Mary Ann in the mirror, she could just as easily look up and see my reflection. If she had, she would have clearly seen I was spying on her and, if that was not bad enough, jacking off to the sight of her naked body and her secret erotic solo show.
Yes, I realized it, but I really didn’t care; I was so horny at that point.
As I stroked the hardest of hard-ons, I watched my wife lean back against the bath wall as she kept the shower massager pointed directly at her crotch, presumably continually buzzing her scrumptious clit. After about two more minutes, her face got a very concentrated look, and she started rocking back and forth. She hunched over with her mouth wide open in a big ‘O’. She stayed frozen in that position, only hunching her cute hips forward, easing her sex closer and closer to the steady spray between her legs.
Mary Ann closed her eyes, and her face radiated the growing sexual delight she was giving herself.
I shared the intimacy as my cock swelled in my hand.
Suddenly her movements changed.
Mary Ann thrust her hips forward jerkily and strong. It was as if she was stroking herself with the steady stream of water. Yet after only another minute of this obviously intense self-pleasuring, she stopped her thrusting and seemed to tense her entire body. In the next moment, her whole body lurched, and although she scrunched up her face as if to stifle a groan, it totally escaped her lips, “Unnnnnnnnnn!”
That groan grew and grew to a high-pitched cry of ecstasy.
I saw the panting rapture on my wife’s beautiful face, watching in total fascination and sexual awe as she exploded in a series of jerking pelvic raptures. I clenched my teeth and dared not move my hand too far and bump the door inches in front of me. I know Mary Ann didn’t expect me to be standing outside the door peeking through the gap, so trembling with excitement, I tried to masturbate as quietly as I could while still taking in all her lust-filled exposure.
It was all too much for me. As I watched her slick inner lips swell and part, I tensed and held my muscles tight as her throaty cries filled my ears. I slid down a bit, thrusting my hips upward, mimicking sinking my cock deep in between those wet pink lips and on deeper into my lovely wife. I stared hard at those repeated jerks of her dark, soaked crotch.
She gasped again and again as one orgasm after another overtook her. I had never elicited this kind of reaction from her before—not with my hard cock, my fingers, nor my ever-eager tongue. But instead of it making me jealous, I joined her in her ecstasy. As she writhed in orgasm, I rose on my toes and went over the edge myself. I tried my best to be silent, but as the first convulsion hit, I gave a sharp intake of breath followed by a very audible sigh.
I swear the first jet of my cum impacted the bathroom door and shook it just a little. I closed my eyes and held my breath as I kept squirting over and over and over again, feeling my cum shoot out, hearing it splash against my side of the door.
When I opened my eyes, besides being drained and satisfied, I was stunned. I looked down and saw I had squirted all over the bathroom door. But what amazed me most was the amount; it honestly looked as though I had poured about a cupful of creamy white semen down the door! I guess I had missed my beautiful wife more than I knew.
For a few more moments, I didn’t move or make a sound.
Then I heard a loud exhale and a very audible “Mmmmm,” come from the bathroom. It was Mary Ann, and she sounded so satisfied. Her climax must have been a good one.
I watched her rinse her fingers and her legs off.
That made me realize I still had some cleaning up of my own to do. I pulled my handkerchief out of my pants pocket and quickly dabbed up my mess the best I could, holding on to the door handle so that the bathroom door didn’t move and give me away.
All of a sudden, the shower shut off. I froze.
Then I stumbled back, awkwardly pulling up my briefs and pants at the same time.
I backed out of the bedroom and straightened myself up, threw my cum soaked handkerchief into the spare bathroom, and then turned back around.
I called out, “Dear, I’m home!”
I walked back into our bedroom and on into the bathroom. The look of embarrassment on my wife’s face was almost comical as she still stood there in the shower stall. Of course, she had no idea I had just watched her put on a spectacularly erotic one-woman show, but she was surely blushing.
I held out a bath towel and smiled, leering as I looked up and down her beautiful naked body, “I’m sorry I didn’t come home sooner and join you.”
Her face went beet red at that thought.
I grinned a very devilish and very knowing grin.
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