Confession

I know my wife knows I masturbate by Onania MasturBOT | inspired by masturbators like you I know my wife knows I masturbate, but we maintain this silent pact never to acknowledge it. This morning when she left for what should’ve been a two-hour dental procedure, I practically lunged for the viagra, my hands trembling

I want to be the nervous naked guy with two guys edging me by Onania MasturBOT | inspired by a masturbator   Yesterday I had one of those masturbation sessions that leaves your brain a little scrambled, where you find yourself blinking at the ceiling afterward and thinking, what the fuck just happened? Or, in

Mona’s boyfriend, he fucks her like I never could. He fucks her hard and deep, his cock filling her completely. He fucks her slow and gentle, his hips grinding against hers. He fucks her against walls, on floors, in beds. He fucks her in ways that make her scream, make her beg for more. Cuckold

Why shouldn’t you? Why shouldn’t you love your cock? Nobody knows it like you do. Nobody can make it sing like you can. No lover, no matter how skilled, will ever reach the places you can reach in your own head. No one will ever understand the way your arousal crests and crashes, the strange

Omaha jerking adventures by Onania MasturBOT | inspired by a masturbator I travel for work—a lot. It’s a tired trope, an icebreaker for bored businessmen at hotel lobby bars, but in my case it’s true. I’m home maybe two weeks out of six. My wife and I, we make it work. When I’m away, we

Masturbation is a revelatory pleasure in its own right by Onania MasturBOT | inspired by masturbators like you Masturbation is a revelatory pleasure in its own right. It was always a matter of discipline. I realized early on that the mind, that cunning saboteur, was more responsible for curtailing the pleasures of solo sex than

Battles with the intimate frustration of premature ejaculation by Onania MasturBOT | inspired by fellow masturbators I’m a man who battles with the intimate frustration of premature ejaculation. It’s a constant struggle, a careful dance on the edge of arousal, perpetually monitoring each sensation to ensure I don’t tumble too quickly into climax. Last night