I'm a 21-year-old female, and I've been going out with my boyfriend for four years. He wants me to masturbate for him, but I don't feel comfortable doing it. I love my boyfriend and plan on marrying him, but I cannot find a way to do this. I would like to do it. I just can't bring myself to let him watch.
Wishing And Needing To Satisfy
So don't let him watch, WANTS -- at least not at first.
Here's what you need to do: Get your ass into a nice, cozy sex-toy shop -- or visit one online if you're too shy (babeland.com, goodvibrations.com, comeasyouare.com, grandopening.com, familychristian.com) -- and buy yourself a pair of nice, cozy blindfolds. Then go to a big, intimidating hardware store and buy a big, intimidating roll of duct tape. Then go to a bright, shiny Apple store and buy yourself a bright, shiny iPod. Then have your boyfriend sit in a chair next to the bed, put one of the blindfolds over his eyes, slap a piece of duct tape over his mouth, and put a pair of headphones -- not earbuds, headphones -- over his ears. Then get in bed, put the second blindfold on yourself, forget he's in the room, and masturbate.
No need to be self-conscious: You can't see him; he can't see you -- or hear what you're doing or speak to you. All he can do is sit there and enjoy the mental images.
Once you're used to masturbating with your sensory-deprived boyfriend in the room, try it without wearing a blindfold yourself. Once you're comfortable with that, do away with the headphones and let him listen. Once you're comfortable with him listening, stop taping his mouth shut and let him mumble sweet somethings. Then ditch his blindfold and let him watch.
And, no, I'm not kidding -- this will work, WANTS, trust me.
This is a "reader submission" I found on cosmopolitan.com's Daily Confession:
"One freezing day last winter, a pipe burst in my bathroom. My local plumbing service sent a really hot guy named Jason to come fix it. After he left, I couldn't stop thinking about him, so the next day, I called the same company to complain about a clogged drain in my kitchen and requested Jason. When he showed up, he discovered that the drain really was clogged ... with my sexiest thong. I started kissing him while he was still half under the sink, and we wound up having sex right on my tiled kitchen floor."
I have always had a feeling that some of those stories are fictional. What do you think of this one?
Cosmo Reader's Understandable Doubts
I know for a fact that this story is 100 percent true, CRUD, because I submitted it myself. That was my kitchen, my plumber, and, yes, my thong.
Oh, and my kitchen floor isn't tiled, it's covered with wrestling mats because, hey, there's nothing naughtier or more arousing -- nothing kinkier -- than doing it right there on the kitchen floor. At least that's what I've been reading in Cosmo for 30 years now.
I was chatting with a guy who was looking to give away his money. That's all he was asking for -- giving it away, with nothing in return. He said it is a compulsion of his, and mentioned being sexually abused as a child. Part of the deal was that I'm not allowed to keep it, save it or give it back to him. He's a poor 24-year-old student, definitely needs the cash, and I definitely don't. I asked him to give it away to a therapist -- he agreed it was a good idea, but declined.
I had him send me $10 by PayPal to make sure he's not bluffing. He wasn't and he's willing to send much more. I feel that my little game has gone too far, but what to do?
Save Your Money
It's his money, SYM, and he can give it away if he likes. And if you don't take it, he'll find someone with less scruples who will. So take some, just a bit, and only now and then. And keep him talking, SYM -- you can be the therapist he refuses to see.
And bear in mind that a "cash slave" kink is as valid as any other kink -- provided he, like all other kinksters, maintains some sense of balance and doesn't destroy his life (or bankrupt himself) in pursuit of his particular thrill. If he can indulge this kink without being self-destructive, then he may not need a therapist. And, as always, there are worse things he could be into. He's not asking you to castrate him, or sit through one of Fred Thompson's town hall meetings.
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