‘Tis The Season (When I Have To Stop Masturbating)

by Calico Rudasill, Sssh.com Porn For Women

I’m just going to come right out and cop to it: Something about this time of year just makes me horny. I don’t know why the holidays have this effect on me; it’s not as though I have some sort of fetish for fat guys with long white beards who walk around in bright red thermal underwear all the time, after all.

Unfortunately, on top of inspiring lust in me, the holidays also happen to be just about the worst time for me to get unusually hot and bothered, because every time I turn around, there’s a cousin, sister, niece or nephew standing there expecting me to do something “Christmasy” – and, apparently, locking myself in an out of the way bedroom to get a little privacy to facilitate masturbating to porn doesn’t qualify.

Yes We’re Related, But Still, Wouldn’t You Rather Stay At A Hotel?

In my family, it doesn’t matter how wealthy a visiting relative might be, or how much we despise said relative, when he or she comes to town for Christmas, for some reason the idea of them getting hotel room strikes my mother as a monstrous idea.

As a result, every member of the family who has a place to call her or his own is required to open up their home to visiting family, resulting in a temporary overstuffing of my house – and, not at all coincidentally, an annual flight eastward by my husband, who pretends to be visiting his own family, but I’m pretty sure actually holes up in overseas for a week in a desperate attempt to avoid both my family and highly repetitive public broadcast of Christmas music.

Some years, I get lucky: I get to host a cousin whose entirely family literally can’t hold still unless they are sleeping. As houseguests, they’re awesome, because they generally pack their local itinerary with so much hiking, sightseeing and activity that I can safely sneak in some cherished holiday self-stimulation during the daytime while they’re out and about.

This year, however, I’m hosting a different cousin, one whose idea of a “busy day” means a day in which he has to turn off his XBOX and leave the house. With that lump of lazy taking up a 10-day residence in my guest room, the only way I’m going to get any “me time” is if I go out and rent a room.

No, The Local Porn Shop Viewing Booth Is NOT An Option

While I realize the little video viewing booths in the local brick and mortar porn shops must actually get used by people a fair amount (otherwise, why would the stores have them?), the idea of masturbating in one makes the skin on my back want to crawl inside my ears.

Back in the late 90s, I used to make pretty regular trips to such shops, because back then the porn company I worked for was still digitizing content from VHS tapes, and the studios we were partnered with were so slow about sending us their latest releases, it was actually more efficient to just go rent them.

Along the way, my curiosity got the better of me one day, so I briefly poked my head inside of one of the video booths. The first thing which caught my eye nose was the smell, a stomach-churning olfactory patois of semen and some manner of disinfectant with a masking fragrance which must have been invented by someone who thinks chemical toilets smell simply fabulous.

Given that I’d have to hold my breath to use one, I can’t imagine watching more than about 30 second of video in one – a time during which I’d absolutely have to be standing, because I don’t even want to think about making physical contact with the chairs inside what amounts to a jerk-off closet.

I’m Not A Teenager Anymore, So The Car Is Out, Too

Back when my husband was still my fiancé, we went to visit his family for Christmas. Naturally, my husband shares my holiday-horniness, because let’s face it, as a reasonably “normal” human male, he’s basically horny as a function of being conscious.

During our visit, things reached a point where we couldn’t hold off any longer: Come hell or high egg nog, we needed to get busy. As his mother wasn’t likely to leave the house (not when there was food to cook, a tree to decorate and a future daughter-in-law’s shit to be all up in, constantly), we were facing something of a challenge.

Read on…

One night, in a flash of inspiration, my significant other came up with a plan: A couple hours after dinner, as the older members of the family either returned to their own homes or prepared to go to bed, we’d announce we were going out for a walk. After wandering the neighborhood for a half-hour or so, we’d then slip into our car upon our return, get in a quickie in the back seat, straighten up a bit, then head back inside.

Yeah, yeah, I know…. but honestly, for some reason, we really thought this plan would work out fine.

Naturally, right about the time I was bouncing on him with the sort of frenzied pace which would bring about the kind of rollicking orgasm I had been gritting my teeth waiting for, on comes an exterior light and open flies the front door.

Bathed in the feint glow of the porch light, we froze in place – as though his mother was a T-Rex who wouldn’t see us, or wouldn’t realize we were in mid-fuck if we pretended to be obscene lawn furniture crammed in the back of a rental car.

Needless to say, that didn’t work.

Surprisingly, though, I was still permitted not only to marry the guy, but actually to come back for another Christmas visit – albeit 10 years later and at the price of hearing at least a dozen snarky references made by in-laws to our penchant for “going out on walks.”

Absence Makes The Porn Grow Fonder (Or Something)

On the bright side, not getting to fuck my husband and not getting to watch porn for a week or two makes both of those options seem all the more attractive – and it’s not like I need much encouragement on the other front in the first place.

Plus, as I struggle with my unrequited lust, at least I know my husband is in the same boat – because for as long as he’s out east, I know his mother is going to put him to work with “man stuff,” like repainting the awnings on their house, raking leaves and bailing his younger brother out of jail.

Soon enough, we’ll be back under the same roof, celebrating in our own way, sharing our mutual affection for boning and porn – and trying our best to avoid accidentally Skyping his mother while we’re at it.