• narcissus •
When I’m having sex with myself, I HAVE sex w..
🕑 Added 2023-11-29 03:13:54 +0000 UTC
• narcissus •
When I’m having sex with myself, I HAVE sex with myself. In the way I think of touching another person, I close my eyes, caress my skin, feel the heat radiating under my fingers, taste my own sweetness…
I can never be certain whether or not my community will relate to the posts I write. Normally, being vulnerable about the darkest parts of my brain opens up a safe space for people to share their experiences. However, I’m nervous to post this video. I don’t talk about it often, but even at my lowest self esteem, I’ve always been able to masturbate to myself. O F was never hard to start because I’ve always enjoyed capturing ~home~ videos. From watching myself in the mirror as I played, to even watching my own videos back as porn. Some far corner of my brain finds myself to be sexually attractive. This feels extremely taboo to say. It’s uncomfortable to acknowledge that I love my own breasts and the way they fall, or to admire the small of my own back when I bend over in videos. I know this isn’t relatable. But it maybe is a secret weapon I feel I should share with people.
When I say I love myself, I LOVE myself to the fullest of my capabilities, as if I were another person. From reminding myself to eat, to hyping up my risky fashion choices, to running baths to calm my muscles after a long week. I touch myself sexually and non sexually with only the intent to take care of me. This has helped me give myself grace in days when I feel worthless, my inner voice is kinder to me than it used to be. On days I feel unattractive I give myself extra care to reassure myself that I’m sexy because I say so. I encourage others to take time to celebrate their bodies, whether that’s masturbating to a slow track, in a dark room with candles by yourself. Or even starting small by taking yourself on a date to a new restaurant alone just because you wanted to try it. You are worth being appreciated by Yourself. I used to be afraid of being labeled as conceited, or shallow as the very pool that Narcissus found his own demise. But now I know it isn’t a sin to find beauty in the body that is mine.
