Without me

How does he touch his body when I'm not there to watch? Does he forget himself? His eyes rolling back in his head, putting on a show for no one and nothing. Is he consumed only with pleasure and feeling more intensely than before?

Do his toes curl? Do his heels press into the bed? Does his head thrash back and forth?

Or is that only me?

A man's self-pleasure is a natural thing, so accepted as fact that we make jokes of it. Of course they masturbate. How could they not?

Exactly. How could he not stroke his length, squeeze his body, cradle his balls? Those firm hands and long fingers were meant for his pleasure before they were meant for mine. Cocks practically beg to be fondled and loved. He is his best and first lover.

It's a thing of beauty to watch. An explicitly erotic act.

But what does he look like when he has no audience? When he finds himself alone and in need? Does he cry out? Pant? Moan? Or is he all stony silence, brought up in a world where everyone knows the thing is done but no one admits to it?

I want to believe he loves himself with abandon, throwing all caution to the wind, erupting in pleasure however he finds it, in that moment. My mind paints a vivid picture. I could almost reach out and touch him in my imagination. I believe in this vision of his pleasure because it's what I want to see when I think of him without me.

Yes, just like that, stroke your cock, glide your hand over the tip, squeeze just so, hold still now. Oh yes, make your body thrum and vibrate with pleasure. You know what you (I, we) like. Make it good for you (me). Give yourself over to the pressure building in every limb. You know you want to. No one here can see you. You're all alone. Love yourself...with or without me.