When I think about my masturbation habits and what they physically involve, I tend to focus on a few things: my cunt; my mind; my fingers; my nipples. My eyes, for reading erotica or watching porn. My toes, because they curl so spectacularly when I come.
But what I don’t focus on is my ankles. Generally speaking I don’t think of ankles much at all, unless a particularly shapely one catches my eye, or I’m concentrating on walking along a stony path.
So I was surprised, when I went to masturbate this past Monday evening, to find that ankles – my ankles – took up a lot of my focus. Especially my right one. And that was rather distracting, especially combined with focus on cunt and mind and fingers and nipples and eyes. And the desire to come. And not dropping my Elise.
Why was I thinking of ankles? Because a few days earlier I’d badly sprained my right one. And it wasn’t until I had one ankle swollen, bruised, and achy that I realised just how much ankles figure into my masturbation.
They do, you know. I use my ankles so I can prop my feet up higher on the bed. I use my ankles to splay my knees out so I can reach my cunt. I use my feet and ankles to push against the mattress and give traction. And I use my ankles – along with many other body parts – to tense up and orgasm.
Masturbating went on a good deal longer than normal on Monday night. And my ankle ached abominably when I was done. But I had great orgasms. And I had more appreciation for my ankles and the work they do.
Will I think of my ankles once the swelling is down and my ligaments healed? Probably not. But they’ll still be doing their many jobs, and working with the rest of my body to help me scream over the edge into messy pleasure. And for that they deserve some acknowledgement, Arnica, and appreciation.