Screw It (3)
Shoooo— Under the pouring shower water, I'm lost deep in thought. Or not. "Uhehe." ...Nope, just zoning out under the spray.
I snap back to reality and return to my previous train of thought. Ever since my TS, I've been living like some insatiable female beast, masturbating at the drop of a hat. If this keeps up... "Rider." ...No, you're insane. Even if I can't resist Kamen Rider references.
Anyway, two days ago, I started worrying about my slutty, animalistic lifestyle. At this rate, I'd fall into masturbation addiction. So I vowed to show some restraint. And now? Here I am, post-binge, having wrecked my body and room, in the middle of cleanup shower. Of course, I didn't hold back even on the day I made that vow.
But I did manage a full day the next day, right? That's gotta count. Yeah. As long as I hold back moderately, I can call it self-control by my standards. Everyone's "moderate" is different, after all? By mine, I've nailed "moderately." Yup yup.
Today's session drained me completely, so after holding back moderately some more, I can indulge next time. That's my conclusion. Even the saying "moderation in all things" proves too much of a good thing is bad. Time to rinse off properly and get out. I've spaced out too long.
The fluids that dirtied my body are all washed away, and the dildo soaked in my spit is clean, dried, and ready. I towel off lightly and step out naked into the room. But that's when a perfect storm of coincidences hits, sparking a massive problem. A totally unavoidable, accidental, inevitable accident.
"...!"
My place is a standard one-room with bathroom off the entrance, room beyond. No good spot for a full-length mirror, so it ended up by the door. And right there, first thing after my shower, was the sight of my dripping, curvaceous body—full hips for birthing, narrow waist, all glistening.
In other words, my smoking-hot figure, wet and begging for it, jumped right into my view. Droplets clung to my breasts, drawing the eye, and my pussy—still flushed from recent stimulation—glowed red. And wouldn't you know it, the vibrator from my marathon session days ago? Bright pink-purple, eye-catching as hell, right by the mirror in my direct line of sight. Another fateful coincidence.
That color grabbed my attention hard, and knowing it was a sex toy? Tragic. Their synergy halted my plans for calm gaming and inner peace.
Swoosh— In that brief moment, my instincts woke up and took the wheel. My steps wobbled, eyes glazed. Like a zombie, I snatched the vibrator and headed back to the bathroom.
Inside, the almost-dry dildo caught my eye again. Back in my hand it went. Chop— Dildo sticks to the wall, buuuuzz— vibrator powers on.
In the end, I...
"Hyaaaaah— Mmph."
Regrettably, I couldn't stop them. My mouth and pussy got ravaged in the bathroom all over again.
What? Just an excuse? Yeah. I was horny, so I did it.
"Ah. Nngh."
But hey, one more round won't hurt.
Shoooo— ...If this feels like déjà vu from earlier, it's not your imagination. Somehow, I'm washing my thighs soaked in pussy juice and the spit-drenched dildo again.
At this point, restraint feels pointless. "Hold back," "stop," "moderately"—I say it, but don't do it.
...But do I even have to? If I had my old life, or roommates/family, I couldn't. Not as a guy, either. Work deadlines. Awkwardness and prying eyes. I'd have suppressed it.
But now? Quit my job, no family or roommates. And this perfect body for indulgence.
"Who cares!"
Thinking it over, there's no reason to stop masturbating. Real life? Plenty of time after. I'm a rich, jobless bum.
So I...
"Who cares, screw it!"
Decided to live my way. No more holding back—gonna jerk off whenever. Horny in the morning? Do it. Full after lunch? Do it. Sleepy post-dinner? Do it. End of day at night? Do it. Before chores 'cause I don't wanna? Do it. After chores, reward myself hardest? Hell yeah.
I ditched all that self-control crap and said screw it.
"Euuu..."
But not now. Two back-to-backs left my legs jelly; standing's getting tough. I wipe down one last time and stumble out.
Legs shaking, I flop face-down on the bed.
"...This scene feels familiar."
Post-masturbation leg-collapse is my norm. Normal? ...Nah. Gotta build stamina first. No, must build stamina. For health and my passionate hobby.
Time to scout gyms. Flop again, but breast pressure forces me to roll sideways—habit now.
"Ahhyo..."
Drained body sideways, arm stretches for bedside phone. Better organize today's tasks.
Alright, let's list 'em.
Better structure it with title and outline first.
"Alright. Number 1."
The big one I just realized—most crucial.
"Exercise."
Yeah, stamina. Solve it slowly starting now, essential for happy future life. Gym stuff... later. Next item for now.
2. Singing practice. Must do this. Wasting this talent? Criminal. Needs pro help—scout vocal academies.
...Huh, this might cost a bit. Exercise newbie? Need PT. Singing lessons? Oof. More cash than expected.
Luckily, next one's cheap.
3. "Streaming..." Prep for streaming. With this body, job history's an issue anyway. Wasn't impressive to begin with.
Plus, with this face and figure? Not streaming would be a waste. But no camgirl shit—shaking tits, aegyo, dancing, embarrassing plays, squirting. Nah.
"...Right?" Won't happen. Even if TS protags go there. Not me. Whatever, skip.
Next. 4. Might tie into previous. Gaming. Why? Duh, not just gaming. For streaming debut, intro, or in-game—flex my rank, get carried? Worth it. Grind ranked now.
That covers it.
Hmm. Looks like can't do all today. More like future plans.
Yeah, that's better. Title fixed. Today's priority...
"Gaming looks most important."
Mmm. Last one's key, so start today. Absolutely not just 'cause I wanna.
"Heehee."
...For real. Probably.
And so, another peaceful ranked grind before bed. Of course, I didn't forget the bedtime regret: "Tomorrow, for real, do other stuff," self-chiding away. lmao.