You Can Fuck Me If You Want

Every time Beth would come over, the plan was that we would masturbate together, but I would end up masturbating for her. Or rather, for myself, in front of her, which she liked and which made it better for me.

That night we started like we usually do, talking and telling stories from recent life events. Beth had a lover and I was always curious to hear what she had done most recently, and they were some saucy stories — of several threesomes with her lover’s ex-girlfriend. She told me of some occasions when she watched him fuck her, while masturbating near them, and other stories of eating her pussy.

Beth knows I love to hear these stories; she knows how horny they make me. She knows that one of my core fantasies is to be surrounded by sexually active women, while I masturbate, including masturbating to their sex. I’ve been amazed how many of my friends would entertain my playing out this scenario, describing their fucking in clear, passionate detail while I got off to them. Or they would send me emails recounting their adventures, knowing the effect it would have on me.

Over time I gained the insight that it was healing and pleasurable for them to share their stories of sex with another man and have him surrender to that, rather than get jealous or controlling. I was getting off on their freedom and their power of choice and we would both go there consciously — and Beth and I were going there right then.

She described the scene as she, her lover and their third partner undressed one another, and then she watched them fuck. I moaned as I heard the words, and watched her face speak them. My cock was so hard it was arched, and my pleasure was taut and elongated. As I would feel my desire to orgasm approach I would relax. One of the gifts of masturbating with a witness is that I can tease my orgasm out for a long time, sometimes for hours.

I knelt up in front of her and masturbated explicitly, my eyes burning as she looked at me with her listless gaze. I lubed my ass and a dildo and then sat down on it, penetrating myself as I turned toward the mirror to watch my face as it happened. She described her experience of masturbating as she witnessed her lover fuck, and then ejaculate into, a woman who was eager, even desperate, to have him.

Then as he withdrew his cock Beth described her feelings as she approached the cunt that had just been fucked, crawling across the floor on her hands and knees, and pressed her face in and drank the mix of them. She was eager to lick and suck another woman’s vulva and did so with total freedom, propelled by the intensity of what she had just seen and felt happen.

Then I said to Beth, “I want to fuck you.”

We often played this way. I would say I wanted to fuck her and she would say that I know what you need to do is masturbate. When she opened her mouth to speak, she said, “You can fuck me if you want.”

I was stunned. We had only fucked twice — once the first day we met in 2006, then another time eight years later, on Beltane a few months earlier.

“Do you really mean it?”

“Yes, you can.”

I moaned. I soaked in the possibility, imagining how I would do it. I wanted to spread her legs apart, grasp her waist and plunge into her plump, gorgeous cunt. I wanted to show her my face as I did so and study her eyes as she took my penetration.

“I can if I want.”

“You can if you want.”

“Or I can masturbate if I want.”

“You can fuck me or you can masturbate. It’s your choice. You’re free to do what you want.”

I moaned more deeply, pressing the dildo deeper into my ass, clasping the slippery tip of my cock, skating on the edge of falling into my orgasm.

“I’m free to do what I want.”

“Yes, you are,” she said. “You’re free to fuck me. I invite you to do that. Or you can fuck yourself. It’s up to you.”

We stayed right in that spot for a while, for the pleasure of it, for the experience of anticipation. For me there was the added sensation of freedom: she was saying yes, right then, right when I was aching for her, and in that moment she was offering herself.

I felt the exquisite possibility of undressing her and penetrating her right then, or rather, I allowed myself to feel it. She looked at me while I explored my possibilities.

I don’t know how it happened, but we ended up in the bathroom. She was still dressed and I was naked. She sat on the floor while I sat on the toilet seat masturbating. I think we both understood that at some point in the last few minutes I had made a choice, if not in words, then by where I had placed my body and how I was relating to her. But somehow I was not aware of having given up the other possibility.

“Can I still fuck you?” I asked.

“It looks like you’ve made a decision. I will hold you to that.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“I know you do, but you’ve chosen to fuck yourself. Look at what you’re doing.” She held up a little mirror that was near by, showing me my face, and moved it a bit, giving me the panorama of her view, of me on the toilet and the space around me.

She was right. I was naked masturbating, and she was still dressed. I acknowledged my choice.

“You offered to have me fuck you, and now I’m masturbating.”

“Seems like that’s what happened.” She smiled.

“I’ve chosen to masturbate.”

“Yes you have. So do it.”

I was for all this time hanging over the abyss of orgasm by a delicate thread. I looked at her face, knowing I would let go at any moment. To the side of the toilet was a mirror. I picked it up and handed it to her, and asked her to hold it for me. Sometimes it’s easier to mirror masturbate if someone else holds the mirror. Then I can just relax. That is what I did as she held the mirror to me.

I watched my face as I rocked on the dildo deep in my ass, and she studied me seeing myself. I knew I was doing what I needed to do, what I wanted to do.

“Thank you for holding me to my choice,” I said, my voice mixed with breath and moans and gratitude.

She smiled. “I always will.”

She knew I was moments away from letting go, and lowered the mirror to where it would catch my semen as I released my body. I looked at her as she did this, looked at her face, then looked down and saw my face and my cock, and right then my whole existence began to throb. I surrendered entirely, to penetration and to orgasm and to being witnessed and to the sight of my face and cock as I let go, spurting in a long, full, gush onto the mirror.

She held it gently, and tipped it toward me, showing me myself and what I had just done. I looked at my face and my semen, bewildered, spinning. Then she held the mirror up to me, knowing what I wanted to do, which was press my tongue into the pool of myself. I did this with my eyes closed, and then remembered to open my eyes, seeing the feral expression as my tongue drew into my body what I had just released from my body.

I watched for as long as I could and then continued to lick the glass with my eyes closed. She guided the mirror to where there was any remaining semen, and then she put the mirror down and wrapped her arms around my head and held me.