I Let My Husband See My Real Masturbation Style
Just when I thought mutual masturbation couldn’t get any more intimate
These days, I masturbate in front of my husband.
I committed to having an orgasm a day to help myself sleep and feel better. The results have been great, but there was one little snag.
An orgasm everyday makes me feel amazing. But sex everyday just drained me.
I love sex, but it turns out to be one of those things I need to enjoy in moderation.
For a few different reasons, getting myself off doesn’t have the same effect. It’s good all the way through and I never end up feeling drained and worn out the day after.
So, a lot of my sex these days is solo sex.
Since I was going to rub my nub so often, I figured I’d let my dear husband join me so he can watch, listen, and take time for his own self-care if he wishes.
As it turns out, he always wishes. So, a lot of my solo play is alongside my loving, supportive, and seemingly insatiable husband.
That’s made it a lot of fun and it feels really intimate.
There was just one complication. I have two different masturbation styles: the one I use when I’m alone and the one I use when my husband is watching.
Every night we decided to indulge in this activity, I’d lay on my back and work the vibrator against my clit, the way I do whenever we’re doing stuff together.
But one night, I was having trouble achieving an orgasm. Turning up the vibrator’s settings got me close, but just close — I couldn’t cross over into an actual climax.
I could just give it time. It felt good, so why not just enjoy the ride and just get there when I get there? Thing is, I could hear Mr. Austin’s breathing getting heavier. His moaning was getting louder. I could see his abs start to tense up a bit more often. I saw his hand starting to look blurry as he sped up his stroking.
He was close to coming, and I wasn’t anywhere near.
I know it’s not a race. But I get a little competitive sometimes, what can I say?
If I was going to climax when Mr. Austin did, or at least soon after, I’d have to stop masturbating the way I did around him and start doing it the way I did when I was alone.
I rolled over onto my stomach, burrowed the vibrator between my thighs, and went at it again.
It didn’t just work. It worked really well.
My orgasm came fast and came strong. I can normally stay very quiet when masturbating, but this orgasm was so powerful I couldn’t help but shout and moan so loudly I worried about the windows being open.
And I managed to beat the bastard. I had already turned off my vibrator by the time Mr. Austin got his fingers and stomach sticky.
I hadn’t intended that night to be special, but it was. After being with him for 15 years, it was the first time I showed my husband my real masturbation style.
Birth of a Masturbator
I don’t remember how old I was when I first masturbated — all I know is that I wasn’t old at all.
I didn’t mark my calendar the first time, but I started humping my pillows and stuffed animals around age 8 or 9. I didn’t have orgasms or anything that even resembled one. But it felt damn good so I kept doing it.
Somewhere along the way, I started climaxing from these activities, which just made me all the more zealous about humping stuffed objects.
Once I started having sex, I toned things down. I didn’t masturbate much, and when I did, I still wasn’t doing it with direct contact.
Like everyone else, I had imbibed my fair share of sex shaming as a child, so there was just something about putting fingers to my bare slit that felt wrong. I just had a vague sense that I wasn’t supposed to do that, so I didn’t.
But I was too old to cream my jeans by humping a Care Bear. So, instead, I humped my hand. I rubbed my pajama-clad vulva against it until I’d reach a satisfying conclusion.
When I met Mr. Austin, I also met the wonderful world of sex toys. I took especially well to vibrators.
I still got off by laying on my stomach and humping my toys. But this time, they hummed, buzzed, and I wasn’t shy about applying them directly to my clit.
I wouldn’t return to my hand until I was pregnant for the first time.
Pregnancy made me very sensitive to sexual stimulation. It was to the point that a vibrator could feel like it was a bit much.
But I was horny, damnit. So, toy or no toy, I was going to find a way to get off.
So, that’s how, at 24 years old, I really explored myself for the first time.
I admit I was a little old to first be discovering exactly what felt good and how stimulating different parts of the vulva could give me unique sensations, but better late than never, right?
If I could go back in time, I would tell my 16 year old self (in a not creepy way, I promise) to take off her pajamas, take off her panties, and see what being fucked with her hand really feels like.
Since I can’t do that, I’ll just have to keep touching myself to make up for lost time.
Masturbating Like a Pornstar
Masturbation had been a part of my sex life with Mr. Austin before it became one of our routines.
I’ll touch myself while he licks and sucks my nipples.
I’ll rub my clit while he fucks me.
I’ll use vibrators to add extra stimulation during anal sex.
And then there were the times that Mr. Austin asked me to masturbate for him as part of our foreplay. He would get excited watching as I got myself wet.
I let him watch me masturbate, but I never let him know how I really masturbate — how I do it when he’s not around.
I felt weird rolling over on my stomach and humping my vibrator in front of him. Even though he’s kind of an ass man, I thought it wouldn’t be the kind of show he was hoping for.
I was kind of embarrassed that I was still humping my toys (even though these ones were designed specifically for that purpose). It felt childish to me. Though, in my defense, I had been doing it since childhood.
I never even told him that’s the way I masturbated because it felt like I was admitting to doing it wrong.
So, when I let my husband watch me masturbate, I basically imitated the masturbation I’d seen in porn.
On my back. Legs spread wide. Rubbing my clit enthusiastically.
I mean, who gave a shit, right? He wanted to see me pleasure myself. I wanted to be sexy for him. And even though that wasn’t how I got off, it felt good and I was going to get eaten out after anyway.
Once I got comfortable with Mr. Austin, we did things the way I liked them. Instead of crazy, elaborate positions, I stuck to the ones that felt the best. I’d rather be fucked in the spooning position than get sore trying to do the sideways cowgirl.
The one exception was touching myself. Until this year, any time I decided to touch myself or use a vibrator in partnered play, I would suddenly turn into a pornstar and jill off like there were cameras in the room.
Embracing Shame-Free Solo Play
Even though we started doing more solo play together, it took me a while to change my mindset.
I was masturbating with my husband but still acting like I was masturbating for my husband.
There were a few different things that led to the change.
I’ve been working on being more confident, and that gave me the courage to show that side of myself to him.
I’ve also been trying to work through my internalized shame and guilt. That helped, too.
But mostly, I was frustrated. I was having a hard time coming, and I knew I had a surefire trick right up my sleeve.
I needed the extra pressure and ability to really grind against my vibrator that I can only get by rolling over and getting up close and personal with my mattress.
I thought I’d be embarrassed by doing that, and maybe I was a bit at first. But for all my worries, I knew my husband wouldn’t judge me for it. Because of that, I managed to get over it really quickly and just enjoy myself.
Letting go of the shame felt great.
Having a strong orgasm felt even better.
And Mr. Austin did not seem to find it off-putting at all.
I mean, he’s prone boned me often enough, so the sight of me in that position was already a familiar one.
Finally showing him the way I really masturbate has made me feel even closer to him. It’s like we can finally be fully intimate. No more pretending to be porn stars — now we’re just being us.
It’s been a small step in some ways, but it’s all part of my ongoing journey to self-acceptance. And I’m glad I’ve done it. It’s liberating and it feels more honest.
It also means I get to come faster, harder, and more often. That alone makes me glad I stepped out of my comfort zone.