Someone once said, ‘… nothing good ever happens after midnight’ and it’s clear that that someone has never spent time with a midnight masturbatrix.  The most memorable, sensual conversations I’ve experienced have occurred during the midnight and pre-dawn hours when my favorite kind of pleasure seeking individual chooses to show themselves.  This individual is well-versed at holding it all in and usually downplays the aspects of themselves that some polite members of society might find taboo or unseemly. However, once the sun goes down these individuals let it all hang out, putting those hidden aspects on full display, just begging to be properly explored.

These aspects usually denote an expansive mental landscape that, while practically begging for exploration, should be explored by someone who revels in their sexuality and savors the power given to her when control is relinquished. Someone, or a masturbation mistress perhaps, who is well-versed in identifying this type of individual and enjoys assisting midnight, pre-dawn & just after sunrise pleasure seekers on a journey to blissful satiation.  A journey that – at times – can be hard to traverse during such a limited timeframe without the assistance of a sensual navigator to guide them to the pleasure they seek.

If you are one such pleasure seeker — then allow me to share the erotic story of how I became a midnight masturbatrix with the full intention of helping you understand why I should be yours.

The Midnight Masturbatrix: An Origin Story

My midnight masturbatrix prowess started to manifest back when I was part of a young adult (ages 18-24) Bible Study Group, that met-up on Wednesday nights.  Since my parents lived “way out in the boonies” I’d get rides from a few different members of the group.  To show my gratitude, I’d offer either gas money or to stroke/rub my chauffer to completion (if the mood was right) since I’d known quite a few of the members for years. They’d always decline the latter, at first, usually offering me a second or third ride. Then they’d test the waters with a series of nervous questions, moralizing their decision before ultimately accepting my thanks.

During that time, I was only attending church out of habit, since everyone in my household had quit going ages ago.  Still, I understood the programming just the same.  Which is why I’d always reassure my wheel(wo)man, that NO ONE would ever discover anything from me & that I was in no position to judge them.  Honestly: I was a horny, perennially broke, burgeoning cock tease horrified at the idea of ever being penetrated, using this as my outlet as long as the driver was willing.  I never used my mouth on them, only ever catching glimpses of their bits beneath their underclothes.  Yet from what I felt when I’d slip my hands beneath their skirts, dresses, or pants — the sounds they’d make while I explored them, the responses their bodies had just from me touching them; I decided that over the clothes hand jobs & rubbies were definitely a worthwhile stop on my nocturnal, pleasure journey.

Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained

After a little over three months of meeting up with the BSG, I developed a consistent ‘ride situation’ with a woman in the group who was around my age. One night, after thanking her three times in rapid succession, she confessed to me that she was in fact a lesbian & strongly considering moving a few states away to get a fresh start.  I was, of course, sad that she’d be leaving, but I was also over the moon for her to be moving on from our hometown & its backwards values.

She left just after Thanksgiving, but before she did the BSG threw her a really nice going away party. During this party, she was bound and determined for me and a good friend of her’s to finally meet. He attended BSG pretty sporadically, but I remembered him from jr. high when he got expelled for pulling the fire alarm during assembly. I thought better of mentioning this, but as she was introducing us, he asked if we’d gone to the same school at some point and I divulged how I knew him. Our mutual friend was thoroughly amused by this and suggested he give me a ride after the party so we could catch up, winking at the both of us as she went to mingle and say her goodbyes.

The BSG usually got out pretty late on those nights, but we’d gotten out even later due to the party, so we didn’t get on the road until well after midnight. He brought up the topic of our mutual friend as he maneuvered his massive pickup onto the highway, confessing that five years prior, the two of them briefly dated. When she realized that she wasn’t physically attracted to men, he understood, and following their amicable split they grew to be pretty close. He promised never to out her & she agreed to support him while he “figured some stuff out.”  When I asked what kind of stuff, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat & the truck grew silent.

The BEST Things Happen After Midnight

After a few miles of silence, the road that led to my parent’s house appeared. Before I could instruct him to do so, he pulled onto the road and made his way to the wooded area near the bottom of the hill, turning his truck into the darkness provided by the trees. After he’d parked the car, he leaned over to turn on some music, before cutting the engine.  Almost immediately I started to shiver, and he motioned for me to follow him as he unbuckled his seatbelt. I obliged him, moving to the backseat of his truck and sitting at the opposite end of the bench seat, tucking my dress underneath me & turning my body towards him so we could keep talking

Before sitting down himself, he reached under his seat producing a heavy blanket and offering it to me. As I gratefully accepted the blanket, I asked him exactly what our friend had told him about me. He settled back onto the seat & replied, that along with directions to my parent’s place, she’d told him that I’d been the one to help her come to terms with some things. Things that he correctly surmised had to do with sex.

She’d also assured him that we’d get along & that he could trust me.  I could tell that he wasn’t really convinced of that part, and he confirmed my suspicion with his follow-up question. ‘Exactly how good at keeping secrets are you?’ To which I responded, ‘Are you fucking serious?’ He shifted nervously as he laughed, saying that he was sorry and that his nerves must be getting the better of him. He swallowed hard a few times before saying that in order for me to fully understand why he was so nervous, that he’d need to first show me his dirty little secret 

 

Yours Indulgently

Goddess Meshelle,

Your Midnight Masturbatrix ;D