This is what happens in the moment when you realize just what you are doing.

“Wait, that’s not me,” you think, while your fingers slide in and out of your pussy.

It isn’t you; those fingers are moving as if they had a will of their own. And it does feel good. It feels really good.

But you shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. Not now.

So you stop. Or at least you try to stop. “It’s time to stop playing with myself,” you think.

Your fingers slide into your pussy and out again. It feels really good. You can feel the unconscious rhythmic response of your legs and hips. Your breath catches. The warmth in the bottom of your belly gets warmer.

But no! You mustn’t do this. Somehow you manage to pull your fingers out, to put your panties back in place. You sit up straight and try to focus. You put both your hands on the table in front of you, where you can watch them and keep them out of mischief.

Your attention wavers for a moment, though, and your hand takes advantage of this to go back to where it wants to go. Back to where it is so welcome to scratch the itch feels so maddeningly good to scratch, the tickle that wants more tickling. And you realize that you are doing it again.

If you concentrate intently you can stop your hand and pull it away, and swallow the disappointment and need your body is feeling. But you have to devote yourself one hundred percent to being someone who isn’t masturbating. Ninety-nine percent isn’t enough; if you aren’t giving your full attention to not masturbating, to keeping your hands at rest in front of you, your sneaky fingers will take advantage of your lapse of attention and go back to doing what they seem to do best.

Wait, what happened? You’re doing it again. You didn’t even blink. One moment both hands were on the table in front of you, and the next you were sliding your fingers in and out, your thumb stroking your clitoris.

And this time, it feels too good to stop. You don’t have what it takes to stop. You want to go all the way, to keep scratching that itch, to keep tickling that spot that so loves to be tickled, to let the wave of warmth and pleasure build up more and more, and you know that as soon as that wave gets to the shore it will crest and break, and you’re almost there … almost there … so close….

(source: unknown; via master226)