Masturbation Mentor

Masturbation Mentor

She had obviously been distracted for a while and it showed. Her mind was clearly somewhere else. When I came home early and accidentally saw her masturbating one afternoon as I returned from jogging, right away I was pleased to see her bringing herself and wondered how often she did it and who she was thinking about. She was nude, on the bed, with her hand at her pussy, her eyes closed, and her mind completely somewhere else. I had not been expected for another two hours, so she should have been alone and was totally caught off guard.

I had suspected she masturbated occasionally, although she had told me emphatically that she never did. I didn't believe her, figuring that most people do, at least I thought most people did. I had never caught her, or seen her do anything similar during sex, so I didn't know for sure--until right then--whether she did or not.

When I had mentioned masturbating before, she denied ever doing it. In fact, she got defensive and acted like I had accused her of something heinous, something awful. However, I thought most people did, and actually hoped she was one of them. I began reading about masturbation whenever I could, whether men do it more, or did women do it, and I found out some interesting information. I discovered the studies showed that men do it more often, but both sexes seem to do it at least occasionally. Men were more likely to admit doing it, often admitting they masturbate 3 or 4 times a week, where women reported doing it maybe three times a month, but it was more likely they would deny it even if they did. Only about 30% of women said they never masturbated, although those numbers were suspect since they knew many women simply denied it even those who had.

Women who masturbated, however, were more likely to be orgasmic than women who didn't do it at all. Women reported that when they masturbated they commonly visualized a former partner or situation, while men were more likely to use visual aids, like porn or reading erotic stories. Right away I thought of Claire masturbating at home that day and wondered who or what she was visualizing. Not that I was bothered by her imagining someone else when she brought herself to orgasm, and I hoped her experience with it was positive. I sincerely hoped that she was able to climax that way.

She had a history of having difficulty achieving an orgasm and I truly hoped masturbating helped her. I wanted to talk with her about it, but I wasn't optimistic about that happening, after all, she never admitted to me she ever did it, and for her to talk to me about sex was difficult for her. Now I knew she did. If only I could get her to admit doing it, or at least talking about the subject with me.

Sex has always been a difficult topic for her. Except for a brief period right before we were married, when she was her most uninhibited and enjoyed sex the most, she has become more subdued sexually and seems less comfortable with it personally. It is something I want for her, but have almost no idea how to help.

If only I could find a way to empower her to open up and discuss it, to admit she masturbates and feel okay with that fact, perhaps even enjoy it. I thought of telling her I saw her, but I decided that was a bad idea. I realized it could actually have the opposite affect of what I intended. It may just backfire on me completely.

I speculated about what she may have been picturing, whether she was actually imagining something specific, like a person or situation. Was it someone she knew? A friend, or could it be me? I reflected on just who it was she was imagining as she brought herself to orgasm. I ran through the names of my friends, people she worked with, and old boyfriends, but there was no one obvious that came to mind.

I wanted her to know the benefits of masturbation, and seeing her gave me hope. There was a great deal of material on the subject to pick from, studies to read, advice columns that discussed it, answered people's questions. I wanted to give her things she could read and find out the acts about the subject.

I decided to talk with one of her friends from college, a woman who had become a doctor, a sex therapist who worked at a clinic in town. I made an appointment and went in to see her the following Thursday. Her name is Dr. Rene Carter.

I sat in the waiting room with a half dozen pregnant women and moms with kids. When it was my turn I went in and sat across from her on the couch. It seemed like I was the only man seeing her. Since I was the husband of one of her friends, it was a little awkward. "You're Tom, Claire's husband, right?" she said,

"I wanted to talk to you about female sexuality," I said. I explained what I had seen, how Claire had denied ever masturbating, how her comfort with sex had been suffering, and how much I wanted her to feel better about her sexuality, but how I worried she was closing down.

"You are worried she is thinking about someone else?" she asked. "So you are feeling vulnerable and threatened? Your masculinity is being challenged?"

"Really, not at all," I said. "I worry because she is not able to enjoy sex like she used to, but her masturbating gives me hope, but when I brought up pleasuring yourself she reacted like it was a terrible thing. I have read a little, and I know it is natural but many people feel guilty about doing it.

As I talked, I worried she was misunderstanding me. I had begun to feel like she was skeptical of my motives. "I want to find someone she can talk with, someone she trusts and believes in. But I know she has to want to talk. I understand you can't make someone want to discuss personal things."

She started to smile. "I am beginning to feel you are here for her, not you. Are you saying you were happy to see her masturbating?"

"Exactly," I said.

"You know you can't trick her into coming to me. You have to mention masturbation, although you may not want to tell her you saw her," she said.

"I know," I said.

"You may want to say I called, asking about her. You might just mention she seems down, like she is not enjoying her life. Maybe see if it comes up, or maybe you could mention it, like I asked about whether she does," she said.

I thought that sounded good and said I'd try it. She suggested I ask about her feelings regarding sex, see if she volunteers anything. "Tell her you've noticed a lack of interest, or renewed interest, whatever you decide," she said. "See where that goes. It may not get you anywhere, but you'll never know unless you try."

I thought about it, and as I left the office I felt a lot better, like at least we where heading in the right direction. I figured I would talk to Claire that night and see if I could open things up, get her to at least talk, or at least to start thinking about it. I would ask her directly if she was enjoying sex lately, see what she had to say. I could tell her that she's seemed a bit depressed, maybe even mention I read about masturbation, mention that it recommended it for housewives. Test the waters, so to speak.

When Claire and I started talking, she began to cry. She wept softly and seemed to fold in on herself. In a short time she asked to hold her. As I held her she started to tremble. "I have not been very happy lately," she said. "Lately, I started to... I began to do myself, you know, with my finger. I was so ashamed. I couldn't seem to stop," she said.

"But there is no reason to stop," I said. "There is nothing wrong with it. It's a healthy and normal and beneficial thing to do. It is natural and wholesome. "Dr. Rene says women should do it regularly to learn about what feels good to them and to learn about their own bodies. Especially married women, she says, should do it to learn about orgasms and how to achieve them, how to feel good about sex," I said.

"Oh, baby, I am so thrilled you have tried it. There simply is nothing to feel guilty about."

"But all my life I have been taught that only bad girls do that," she said sadly. "I was ashamed that I even thought about it, ever. When I was a teenager and I started I used to cry at night because I would get the urge and couldn't stop myself," she confessed in tears.

"Rene does," I said, "even with her husband," I said. although i wasn't sure of that, except from what she told me it seemed reasonable. "She says it help her to relax, and to be able to control her own orgasms," I said.

She looked at me with a tortured grin. "She does?" she asked. "Even now?" She seemed terribly young and innocent, even childlike. Most of the time she masks her lack of confidence we'll, but this had brought out her vulnerability and misgivings about her sexuality, and she seemed even intimidated by its existence.

"You talked to her about it?" she asked warily. I nodded. "And she does it herself, really?"

"Really," I said. "And she gave me information about it to give to you, methods, and research, general information. If you want to read it you can. If not, you don't have to. Your choice."

"Well, you don't do that, do you?" she asked tentatively.

"Of course I do. There is nothing to be ashamed of," I said. "It is okay to do. Therapists recommend people do it to achieve a healthy sex life," I said. "Dr. Rene even teaches people how to it. Women who don't know what to do can learn from her how to get the best out of what they do. She even teaches classes in it," I told her. "Groups."

She made a face, then smiled. "Groups?"

"Small groups, of just women," I said with a smile. "Would you talk with her?"

She nodded and wiped her eyes. "I like Rene," she said. "She really does it?"

"So she tells me," I said. "Will you talk to her?" I repeated.

"I guess so," she said.

Just having her willing to talk to her sex therapist friend was a big step. Having her listen to me was monumental. I was thrilled she would even consider going to Rene and it was encouraging to know she wanted help. She was in such pain and guilt over having been tempted to engage in such heinous activity that I could feel her torment, her struggle with being a sexual person.

When she called Dr. Rene for an appointment it was on a Monday, and she got one for Thursday. I couldn't wait to hear about her time with her friend. She got home about five and asked me to sit with her in the family room. We sat on the couch and her eyes were red and puffy.

"Rene told me how many women learn to use masturbation to help them know more about themselves and their bodies," she said quietly. "I thought it was immoral to want to give yourself pleasure that way. I didn't know other people did that, people like Rene. I felt nasty and ashamed of what I did to myself. When you told me it was natural, I didn't really believe you, but hearing it from another woman, especially one like Rene, it made me realize I was wrong."

I took her by the hand and kissed it. "I have signed up for a group," she said with a shy smile. "It is on Saturday morning, at ten. There are three other women in the class. We will learn how to pleasure ourselves. I have homework," she said. "I am supposed to look at myself with a mirror to get to know my anatomy, my own vagina."

It was encouraging that she could even say the word 'vagina,' since I had never heard her say it before, not even once. I was eager to hear about the sessions, to listen to her talk about what they had done. "I have other homework," she said, "that you are suppose to help me with."

"I am happy to do my part," I said with a smile.

That night she put on a shorty nightgown and climbed into bed. She looked uncomfortable, but slowly pulled up the nightgown and pushed back the covers. Even in the early days she was always modest about her nudity, as she never openly displayed her nakedness even to me.

After meeting with Dr. Rene, she at least was trying.

She asked me to hold a mirror up so she could examine herself between her legs. After a few minutes of doing just that, she asked if I would help her find her G-spot. I was thrilled. She sat against the pillows and stretched out flat, then she let me probe her pussy with a finger.

It was a huge step for her, since she never had been so deliberate, so clinical, and it was a great night for us. I found what felt like a rough patch about the size of a quarter and began rubbing across it. I made quick circles and was pushing my palm against her mound, hence over her clitoris.

After a few minutes she began to shake and tense up her whole body, her upper teeth over her lower lip. I could feel an orgasm coming and I increased the speed of my finger. Finally, a spout of liquid shot out of her pussy about eight inches out and she cried out as her orgasm exploded like a crack of thunder. She reached down and grabbed my wrist, holding my hand still as her vagina became so sensitive she could not stand it any longer.

She lay on the bed panting for a while, then a wide smile extended across her face. "Oh, wow," she said with a sigh. "That was wonderful. Oh, baby, thank you." I snuggled against her and pulled her to me.

On her next visit she learned to bring herself with two fingers, one on each side of her labia and the heel of her hand pressing down on her clit and her mound. The four women in her class sat around a large padded floor and were naked except for a short gown that covered their breasts and came just below their waist.

She was told to practice at home at least once a day. The directive was to practice at night just after you go to bed so it can help you sleep. Women were encouraged to do it with their husbands or boyfriends or same-sex partner.

One of the women in her group was married to another woman. Her wife's name was Gail and twice came with her partner, since it was a group for women. Although men were included at home, in the class it was only for women.

Claire became much more comfortable with nudity, since all of the classes, even Dr. Rene, were held in the nude, except some people wore the short gown. Except for the first one, Claire did not bother to wear a gown. That in itself was encouraging to me.

By the last class she was masturbating every night, often with my help. The change in her was incredible and I could see it in her mood, her energy level, even her smile.

The fact was, masturbation, or being more comfortable with it, not feeling guilty about doing it, had helped her be the woman she had inside of her.

At work, a month after Claire had started her group meetings at Dr. Rene's, I got a call on my cell phone. Right away I recognized the number of the clinic and stepped away from my desk.

"Hello," I said.

"Tom, this is Rene Carter. I wanted to get a progress report on my old friend and new patient. How are things at home?"

"Are you allowed to talk to me?" I asked remembering doctor-patient confidentiality.

"I am not going to tell you anything, but I want to know how an old friend is doing at home," she said. "So how are things on the home front?"

"Things are wonderful," I said, "thanks to you. Clare is a new person."

"I am so happy to hear that. The husband is the best person to see the results of my work," she said. "I am thrilled to hear it. Will you tell her I talked to you? Tell her I will see her for as long as she needs me."

"I am happy to say, that might not be all that much longer," I said. "We'll see how she feels, but I have a feeling it won't be for long." The doctor told me she was thrilled to hear that. When I snapped off the phone I could not feel better. My wife had needed a masturbation mentor and she was learning her lessons really well. I am sure there are quite a few who could use a mentor now and then.