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Masturbating Together

Yes, I and my husband have done it numeorus times together. Highly erotic and very orgasmic! :devil::heart:
 
I love the expression on her face and heightened moaning as she starts to cum, usually brings me over the edge to an explosive orgasm of my own.
 
Not sure . . .

greeneyedguy001 said:
I find it so arousing and erotic to masturbate together, who else likes it?
Click to expand...

I'm not sure if you mean me, a man, with a woman, or what? When I first read the premise of this thread I immediately remembered the time a friend accompanied my wife and me on a 3-day canoe trip. The first night we were all so exhausted, and a bit drunk, that we fell asleep crawling into sleeping bags. The second night, a day downstream, was different. We found the natural hot pool another friend had marked on our map for us, and the moonlight not only did wonders for my wife, but, quite plainly, for the libidos of both our friend and me. His wanting was thick in the air and my wife's secret-smile appreciation was apparent. The third night was unseasonably cold, we invited our friend to share our tent--his warmth added to ours and vice versa.

My wife and I had always slept nude, as per instructions for sleeping bags, and also following suggestions, in the case of a couple, zipped our bags together. Our friend, alone and outside in his bag, complained; so, after my wife asked if it was okay, we invited him into our tent. Embarrassed, turned on and laughing, we both told him he'd better join us. Without our saying anything, he stripped off his shorts and quickly slipped in, my wife between us. She lay on her back, face up. Soon, the two of us men snuggled up to her.

It was black dark in the tent. My wife told me a few days later that our friend had been shy, trying not to be aggressively intimate. But, trying to make both him and herself comfortable, she had raised an arm, encircled his head, and pulled him to her, quite naturally letting his face rest against her ample, milk-taught breast (our first child born, 3 weeks earlier, was staying with her grandmother while we vacationed for the first time in more than a year).

My cock was hard up against her thigh. Pushing down with my fingertips, I lowered it, letting go, so that its upward pressure was against the cleft formed by the cheeks of her bottom. I so wanted to enter her.

It was I who broke the quietly rummaging silence. I whispered, loud enough for both to hear, asking if she felt horny. She mmm-humed assent, and I suggested she take us both in hand.

She said she wanted to see. I lit the little LED light hanging from near the top of the tent.

The cold in the tent suddenly didn't seem to matter. She threw back the sleeping bag and sat up. her nipples, both of them, were dripping. Still between us, Without looking up from what her hands were doing, she found and examined the two of us. Just before our friend came, she leaned forward, eyes wide, watching intently. Three of his shots hit her face. On the first one she flinched and a little cry of surprise escaped her, but didn't pull away. She raised her chin, eyes still open, watching, so that the second and third shots caught her on the nose and one eye. Immediately, I came, spraying her near breast, belly and a thigh.

I licked her thigh clean while our friend turned her so that he could lick where my semen had streaked her breast. I was aware as I began to clean her belly that he was alternately kissing her mouth and licking her face. Does this count?
 
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That is a very hot story MilkFountain.

I've had one mutual masturbation experience with an ex-girlfriend. We enjoyed watching each other masturbate and it was pretty hot.
 
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Loved this. Thanks for sharing.


MilkFountain said:
I'm not sure if you mean me, a man, with a woman, or what? When I first read the premise of this thread I immediately remembered the time a friend accompanied my wife and me on a 3-day canoe trip. The first night we were all so exhausted, and a bit drunk, that we fell asleep crawling into sleeping bags. The second night, a day downstream, was different. We found the natural hot pool another friend had marked on our map for us, and the moonlight not only did wonders for my wife, but, quite plainly, for the libidos of both our friend and me. His wanting was thick in the air and my wife's secret-smile appreciation was apparent. The third night was unseasonably cold, we invited our friend to share our tent--his warmth added to ours and vice versa.

My wife and I had always slept nude, as per instructions for sleeping bags, and also following suggestions, in the case of a couple, zipped our bags together. Our friend, alone and outside in his bag, complained; so, after my wife asked if it was okay, we invited him into our tent. Embarrassed, turned on and laughing, we both told him he'd better join us. Without our saying anything, he stripped off his shorts and quickly slipped in, my wife between us. She lay on her back, face up. Soon, the two of us men snuggled up to her.

It was black dark in the tent. My wife told me a few days later that our friend had been shy, trying not to be aggressively intimate. But, trying to make both him and herself comfortable, she had raised an arm, encircled his head, and pulled him to her, quite naturally letting his face rest against her ample, milk-taught breast (our first child born, 3 weeks earlier, was staying with her grandmother while we vacationed for the first time in more than a year).

My cock was hard up against her thigh. Pushing down with my fingertips, I lowered it, letting go, so that its upward pressure was against the cleft formed by the cheeks of her bottom. I so wanted to enter her.

It was I who broke the quietly rummaging silence. I whispered, loud enough for both to hear, asking if she felt horny. She mmm-humed assent, and I suggested she take us both in hand.

She said she wanted to see. I lit the little LED light hanging from near the top of the tent.

The cold in the tent suddenly didn't seem to matter. She threw back the sleeping bag and sat up. her nipples, both of them, were dripping. Still between us, Without looking up from what her hands were doing, she found and examined the two of us. Just before our friend came, she leaned forward, eyes wide, watching intently. Three of his shots hit her face. On the first one she flinched and a little cry of surprise escaped her, but didn't pull away. She raised her chin, eyes still open, watching, so that the second and third shots caught her on the nose and one eye. Immediately, I came, spraying her near breast, belly and a thigh.

I licked her thigh clean while our friend turned her so that he could lick where my semen had streaked her breast. I was aware as I began to clean her belly that he was alternately kissing her mouth and licking her face. Does this count?
Click to expand...
 
nakedtraveler said:
That is a very hot story MilkFountain. Especially enjoyed that you both licked her clean of your combined cum. Did anything further happen between the three of you after this?

I've had one mutual masturbation experience with an ex-girlfriend. We enjoyed watching each other masturbate and it was pretty hot. But not as exciting as MilkFountain!
Click to expand...

Dear Fullservice, Nakedtraveler, Harv and Bobcatinfl,

Thanks so much for your comments. It turns me on to think someone else found our experience exciting. Yes, we did have another experience with that friend. Through a number of pillow-talk conversations I discovered that my wife really enjoyed the experience, especially with him. Also, I talked with him nearly a week after the above adventure. I went through moments of stabbing jealousy, others of becoming super turned on remembering what happened, and I found myself wanting to repeat it but in some different way that would be more exciting for each of us. I came up with an idea . . .

Part of what had turned me on was that I was somehow in control. I wanted to feel everything from all angles: writer, director, star, and yet I hadn't yet faced up to the risk of losing her to someone else. I wanted the thrill of the risk. My wife had admitted she'd like to see our friend again. But she said that if it happened, she'd like a little time alone with him. Knowing how much she loved me, I hadn't considered losing her. I was torn between the adventure and the risk, between letting her star in real-life sex-with-another, a guy we were both close friends with, and wondering how deep her feelings for him might be. And if it was a real threat to us, to our love. There was history there, familiarity and a night shared that she'd really enjoyed.

On my second phone conversation with our friend, I asked if he really liked my wife. He was nervous but said that he was "thankful" for what had happened, but didn't want to get in our way. I talked about "that night" with my wife, several times, always in bed. She told me she was perfectly happy just making love with me, but . . . yes, she'd really liked how our friend made her feel.

I came up with a solution.

Nearly a week after the night the three of us shared, I called our friend. I told him the truth, that my wife had asked me if she could be alone with him. Without waiting for a comment from him, I said he could do that, but I thought what would make my wife happiest is for an encounter alone between them to be perfectly natural. I made him promise to never tell her that I'd had anything to do with their meeting alone. He said okay, but how?

That night, Friday, I said okay to my wife's proposal that she see our friend alone. She asked if I was sure. I said that if it would make her happy, give her more of a sense of freedom, that yes, I was sure. She asked what she should do (with him). I told her that depended on her. And I asked her to never tell him that I'd had anything to do with their meeting like that. I made her solemnly promise. I also told her only to tell me about it afterwards, so that it came as a surprise to me. I asked if she understood. Dubious, thoughtful, she nodded.

I knew my wife's estres was coming on, that maybe she'd be peaking within a couple of days. During her ovulation, I knew, she was gleefully up for anything, full of mischief and wanting to be courted.

Saturday morning I called our friend. I asked if he had any plans for Sunday morning. He said he was free. I suggested he drop by our place for breakfast, at precisely 9 o'clock. (I told him I wouldn't be home, but that my absence would be unexpected by my wife, his friend.) I suggested he wait until she was at the kitchen sink, and simply embrace her from behind. I told him the truth, that one of her "secret" turn-ons was being hugged like that, with a man's hands holding her breasts, while he kissed her neck.

That evening I asked my wife to make for us one of our favorite breakfasts for this Sunday morning, as we hadn't done for quite a while: French toast, whisky-baked apples with vanilla sauce and good coffee. She was delighted. . . .

I could hardly contain myself Saturday evening. I so wanted to tell someone. On Sunday morning I rose early, at first light. I tucked a tiny, wireless video camera well hidden in the thick folliage of a hanging plant in the kitchen. I'd bought it the afternoon before. It was pointed toward the kitchen sink and beamed its images to my computer upstairs my study. Both camera and my computer were turned on.

My wife got, showered and, before she had a chance to dress, I asked her to wear just her panties and sandals and an old shirt of mine. The shirt was threadbare cotton from too many washings, and had been my favorite for years before we'd met. When I'd first told her that, it had become her favorite too. It molded wonderfully to a small girl with generous curves.

She broke the eggs, beat them, added salt, fresh ground black pepper and sugar. While the slices of bread soaked, she turned on the oven and started paring the apples. It was 8:30. The phone rang. My wife's hands were damp and sticky with sugar and butter, and so I easily got to the phone first. (The night before a colleague had promised to call me at exactly 8:30. I'd told him I was always sleepy Sunday mornings, but had an important appointment.) I told my wife I'd be back in 45 minutes or so. She wasn't happy about that, but I brushed it off and suggested she not start the French toast until I got back. . . . It was by now 8:40. She poured a dash of whisky into the tops of the apples and slipped the tray into the oven. I left.

At 8:10 or so, I called home. My wife was cheerful. She listened to my explanation of why I'd be at least an hour late getting back, expressed enough annoyance and disappointment, but before I gave her a chance to tell me our friend had shown up, I begged off, saying something about traffic being terrible, and hung up.

I stayed away until 10:40. When I walked through the door into the kitchen, they were both sitting at the table, parts of French toast in their pools of melted butter and Log Cabin Syrup on their plates, individual bowls cupping the remnants of baked apples, the air filled with the aroma of baked apples and vanilla sauce and of good coffee. They both greeted me with happy smiles, a sheen of perspiration on my wife's face, shoulders, arms and legs, and sweat staining the back of our friend's t-shirt. Guilt-free, happy to see me, they made room for me to join them, and My wife served me with the light of mischief illuminating her pretty face. No, her face had gone beautiful in the short time I'd been away.

After breakfast our friend offered to help wash the dishes. I excused myself, saying I had an email I was expecting, and went up to my study.

(I apologize for wandering off the theme of this thread; it wasn't my intention to hijack it.)
 
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Not only a sexy story, but a sweet one as well. You are a good couple. Or should I say threesome?
 
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