Pleasure and Power

I think there is a lot of power in self-pleasure.

Yeah – I said it.

 

There is power in knowing you don’t need anyone else in order to get yourself off.

I’ve known about this for a long time – the pleasure part – but not so much the power.

I always felt guilty.  You know, in the “if you masturbate you’ll go blind” way.  Like Jesus was always watching with displeasure.

Now I think it’s mostly a physical thing.

And not only that, but a way to explore what’s going on with my brain sexually even if I have no idea what’s going on with my brain otherwise.  It’s a way to act out things you’re not sure you’d be willing to try with your partner without the fear of a stop-start with your partner.  It’s a way to figure out if you might be gay.  It’s a way to live our fantasies that are probably really unhealthy, or figure out if you approve of something you’ve only heard about. 

Maybe this makes it bad.

Jesus said that if you even think about another “woman” with lust then you’re committing adultery.  And I admit that I have thunk of other men during my ritual.  The thing is, Ed always makes an appearance at some point.  He might not always be the primary player in my mind video, but he always appears.  This has been helpful to our sex lives, honestly.  And it’s kind of cool that nobody else is getting me off vaginally, nor could they – I’m a strictly clitoral stimulation masturbation girl.  Sometimes both those kinds of orgasm are necessary for full satisfaction and Ed is gone for the day, so I just take care of business so I can continue with life.  Sometimes I think it’s important to listen to my body.  This goes against a lot of the teaching of my youth, but the feeling of relaxation – the natural anti-anxiety drug released on orgasm?  I’m pretty sure that’s saved my life before – and there was no one around to help me out.  Or my kids were around and solo and quiet was truly the only answer.

I suppose I should be more honest with Ed about this whole thing.

I feel sort of like I should be allowed to keep this one secret.  Maybe I should just tell him I’ve done a lot of soul-searching and if he wants to whack off in the shower I’m pretty okay with that.  We used to try and keep each other straight about it.  The thing is, our sex lives have been a whole lot better since we stopped talking about it and I went back to getting myself off once or twice a week.

I’m not sure what that means, and writing this entry is giving me a lot of guilt – so maybe this whole empowerment thing is just an excuse to continue in a horribly bad, sinful, repulsive habit.

And I feel a little sick about it.

So stop reading now.  This isn’t going to be nearly as feminist “roar” as I thought it would be.

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