I usually need to get off once a day to remain semi-functional. Ideally I would get off several times a day but this is usually an unrealistic goal, especially as there are multiple things vying for my attention beyond orgasm. Still, I’m a stay-at-home parent with an at least theoretic abundance of free time. Thus I masturbate once a day, or more if I can. It’s a great way to pass the time, relieve stress, and get in touch with myself (no pun intended).

Sometimes I manage to set aside a large portion of the day for this purpose. I’m talking more than a couple hours. I get naked and lie down on my bed. I peruse adult blogs, Tumblr, and Twitter. It’s leisurely, and very fulfilling. Sometimes I let myself come a few times rather than just being content with one.

Other days I have so much going on that I don’t even get around to masturbating until shortly before my alone time comes to its end. In such instances I’m much more goal-oriented and often rushed, and on these occasions I have to watch porn.

I say “I have to watch porn” like it’s a bad thing. But the fact is that I sometimes – usually? – prefer to be mentally stimulated rather than visually stimulated. Or even mentally stimulated in addition to visually stimulated. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as visually oriented as the next person, but I often require more than just porn in order to have a really gratifying orgasm. Sometimes I want to be teased and tantalized with words or sounds. I want a slow build, preferably coming to the edge of climax several times before giving in. This is an option when you’ve set aside a large chunk of time, but when you’ve got forty minutes to be out the door and you aren’t even sure where your car keys are, you need to go for what’s the easiest. The path of least resistance if you will.

That said, when I do watch porn, I am usually inclined away from the big-budget studio variety. At the risk of stereotype, I don’t usually go for the typical synthetic lab-created performer. You know the kind I mean: Enormous breasts, impossibly long legs, pouty lips, high cheekbones and perfectly-coiffed hair. And on the men, broad chests, washboard abs, and the sort of penile length and girth that would make an elephant feel inadequate. Nothing against these folks; I’m sure such specimens exist in the wild, but what does it say about their authenticity that the only place I can recall seeing them is in porn?

If I must watch porn – there I go again, sounding like it’s a chore. Sorry. When I do watch porn, I prefer something a bit less polished. I don’t want perfect studio lighting and other earmarks of professional quality. I want a stationary camera, ideally somebody’s phone, and the sense that the performers left their bedroom light on. I don’t want some arbitrary ideal of beauty, either. I want people who are, for lack of a better word, real. Yes, I know that professional porn stars are real human beings with actual hopes and dreams. But as I stated, I can’t relate to them and as a result I don’t really want to see them fuck all that desperately. The woman who rang me up at the grocery store? I’d like to see what kind of vibrator she uses. The guy who delivered my package from Amazon? I’d be curious to see what kind of person he fucks. That shy mom at my daughter’s school? I wonder what she sounds like when she comes, and her facial expression when the waves of pleasure overtake her. That average, kind of doughy couple who live down the hall from us? Show me their sex tape.

This afternoon, however, I am streaming a scene of the professional variety, if only because there’s nothing in the amateur category that interests me. In the scene, a young starlet I’ve never seen before kneels between two vaguely familiar-looking men, stroking one while she sucks the other and then switching. The pleasure on her face is unmistakable, and this excites me. Nothing kills my arousal quicker than the idea that the young woman at the center of the gangbang doesn’t actually want to be there.

The men maneuver her onto a sofa, one entering her from behind as the other takes her mouth. I stroke faster as I hear her muffled moans, knowing how turned on she is. Her noises remind me of our last threesome with another man; Jill sounds more or less the same as this young woman does when she’s getting fucked with a cock in her mouth.

The men switch places; she rides the one she had earlier been sucking while the one who’d fucked her from behind now stands over her. As she swallows his length I continue to stroke with a warm hand, feeling myself growing ever closer. After a few moments Vaguely Familiar-Looking Porn Star #2 withdraws his cock from her mouth and moves around to take her ass. As he slides inside the camera cuts to her reaction to the sudden fullness. She braces herself instinctively, but she’s still smiling.

Double penetration with an actual third (as opposed to a toy) is one of our as-yet unrealized sexual goals; it’s one of those things we’ve discussed, and we would likely try with a suitable person. In fact, a close friend of ours has expressed an interest in conversation with Jill, but he’s married and we’re pretty sure his wife wouldn’t go for it.

Without even realizing I’m doing it, I slip into a fantasy. Jill is straddling my hips, sliding up and down on my cock. Her breasts bounce in my hands, her moans of pleasure filling our ears. Her wetness soaks me. At the same time our friend stands behind her; he and I ensconce her protectively between our bodies. He holds her hips in a firm, authoritative grip, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. Jill’s own hands reach backward to hold open her cheeks for him as he throbs within her. He and I can feel each other inside of her, though we’ll never speak of it.

As my wife comes, he and I can feel her hungry holes tightening around us. She writhes in ecstasy, her body pushing us toward our own respective orgasms. Our friend leans forward, pulling Jill’s head back by her hair. As they share a lusty kiss my excitement reaches its peak. By the time she leans down to kiss me, I’m coming inside her. The sound of our friend reaching his own climax echoes through the room and then fade, replaced by a satisfied sigh from the woman in the middle.

All at once I find myself back in the bedroom. I need to be out the door in ten minutes! I don’t even know where my keys are! Gotta go.