In view of the progress that this issue of writing what I have been making is I feel when I feel like masturbating (the

In view of the progress that this issue of writing what I have been making is I feel when I feel like masturbating (the frequency and quantity of jerking off has drastically reduced), my psychologist has advised me to try to remember to see where the obsession comes from, to try to combat it at its roots. When I was young, I was a fan of adventure books and movies and mystery. The first time I saw The Neverending Story I just loved it. the movie, to such a point that I couldn't stop watching it, over and over again. Me The winged dragon, Fúyur, was especially charming. If a genius had crossed my path and granted me a wish, that would have been without a doubt having my own dragon. Every time he appeared on screen, it drove me crazy. I climbed on the armrest from the chair and pretended I was the one riding the white dragon. TRUE day, I got too excited and rode the arm of the chair more than necessary. To the finish the movie, I felt strange, more euphoric than usual, with the labored breathing and an unusual tingling in my intimate area. Needless to say, I had seen the movie so many times that I knew it. from memory, but I still enjoyed it so much that I saw it at least once fortnightly. Now that I think about it, it was also around that time that I always have a lollipop in my mouth, and when the boys at my school, I also had a time during which I almost always had things in the mouth. I guess I'm just an easy prey for addictions. and uncontrolled consumption. But since that day, the ritual of watching the movie had changed. I longed for scenes in which my little dragon appeared, and I expected them completely out of my. When he finally appeared, I would throw myself on the couch and start riding like a crazy woman, ending up exhausted, sweaty and with that itchy feeling that was beginning to I like it so much. The film was relegated to the background, it became a mere excuse to rub myself against the couch. Until one day, I suffered a threat of orgasm. Without realizing it, my legs began to tremble and one intoxicating feeling of well-being spread throughout my body. The shock It initially scared me (I thought it was an epileptic seizure or something), and That's probably why I didn't fully enjoy it. I went several days without repeating it, although I finally relapsed, naturally, just trying not to reach those extremes. I came again, even more quickly. In some ways, my own body taught itself. With one leg on each side of the armrest, knees pressed against himself so as not to lose his balance, and his crotch close to the chair, in direct contact except for panties and pajama pants. From From there, it was simply a matter of using my imagination and riding around refuting myself. from one side to the other, from back to front, from right to left, in circles, even bouncing around as if he were trotting (yes, I know that Dragons don't trot like horses, but I didn't know that then, so what the hell, The trot was also very enjoyable). I learned to melt and let myself be carried away by those explosions of pleasure. With time, I ended up pursuing my hobby by rubbing against other objects similar, such as cushions and pillows, and later, passing my hands and exerting pressure on top of clothing. I remember one morning when I woke up more exalted than normal. He didn't remember what he had been dreaming about, although he still It was fresh enough to be completely sweaty and heavy breathing. An immense heat spread from my intimacies. Me I squeezed hard with one hand and I could almost say I felt it throbbing. the bunny Applying strong pressure, I began to rub myself over the clothing, progressively increasing the pace. The problem is that with those sensations that I perceived were the same as when your skin itches and you start to scratch you The itching gets more, and more, and more. I pulled my pajamas down to my knees and began to squeeze my little corner on top. of the panties. The feeling was much more alive with less clothes involved. I perceived the heat more intensely and waves of pleasure intoxicated me without end. in sight. A growing humidity, which at the time I attributed simply to a excessive sweating, flooding my underwear according to my scrubs As they increased, their pace and strength increased. Just when I started to shuffle The possibility of taking off my panties and enjoying myself even more shook me a little. violent orgasm that left me completely defeated. Sleep overcame me again and, hours later, I doubted whether that had really happened or not. Just by taking a look at the underwear it was obvious that it had happened, but still I decided to experience it again. Since then, my internship accelerated rapidly. For a few days, I limited myself to masturbating with my panties on, well with my pants lowered or by inserting your hands inside them. my excitement It was even greater and the final ecstasy was simply indescribable. It was because of that So when I started to give importance to not being discovered in my chores, when one afternoon my parents arrived earlier than expected and I I was riding on the couch in my panties and t-shirt. It gave me time to recover pants, but my moisture had seeped onto the fabric of the chair. Me I narrowly escaped by putting a cushion on top. Finally, my hands surpassed the last cotton barrier, entering direct contact with my blushing intimacy. The slimy touch of my secretions It didn't put me off, but instead increased my desire to rub and rub myself. That time I couldn't suppress a little scream as the pleasure invaded my body at the same time. complete. A few months later, the friends began to comment on some very similar. I took very good note of many of the experiences shared. The shower head, the teddy bear, that mysterious little button with cap at the entrance of the cunt... Over time, we began to call the things by name: masturbate, cum, finger, jerk off, pussy, clitoris, ... and I was happier than Easter, knowing that that was not bad (although I sensed something), that it was normal and had a name. But I couldn't controlling myself, somehow, got out of hand, and the hobby became in addiction.