I always thought that I would have handled this situation more gracefully. That, when the time came, I would be able to laugh it off like I laugh off everything else that’s potentially embarrassing in sex. Funny noises, rogue bodily functions, finding out your sex face isn’t that sexy…I’ve incorporated a lot of laughter into sex. It’s better this way: instead of handling any sort of humorous mishap by going red-faced and thus detracting from the wonderful act of sex, I laugh. I laugh hysterically, I recover, and then I continue fucking my boyfriend, completely unfazed.
But this? This was different. First of all, any sort of sexual intimacy with my boyfriend is rare because he lives five time zones away from me. On top of that, we’re both incredibly busy. Forget visits—we’re lucky lately if we can get a steamy Skype session or two every month. Our daily conversations are just a little too sexually tense, and it recently got to the point where we couldn’t think about anything else but finally having each other.
We were on Skype when I took my clothes off, and we were soon masturbating together. This has always been one of my favorite sex acts. Even when my boyfriend and I are having non-Skype sex, masturbation show-and-tell is one of the most special (and incredibly hot) things that we’ve shared. When we’re together, we’ll oftentimes finish our love-making by lying side-by-side, holding hands while simultaneously holding each other and touching ourselves until we reach orgasm. It’s fantastic.
Masturbation has always been one of the most intimate parts of sex that I’ve gathered the courage to share with someone else, so when I was Skyping my boyfriend and I heard a knock at my door, I automatically covered myself.
Two of my (very drunk) friends were pounding at my door as I shouted, “No. No. NO!” at them. They didn’t listen. Both fell through my door into my messy room and started talking over each other about how I just had to come over until they realized… Are you naked? Are you on Skype? Are you Skyping your boyfriend?

From Sodahead.com
Clad only in an old blanket of mine covered in Harry Potter playing Quidditch, I froze, I flushed, and I started to cry. That’s right. I didn’t laugh. My sexual bravado was gone. I got walked in on by my friends, and I couldn’t help but sob. One of these friends came into my room and—making sure the Harry Potter blanket didn’t move—lowered my laptop screen and held me until I calmed down.
When she left, I pulled my Skype call with my boyfriend back up, and I resumed crying. He consoled me as best as he could and told me that there was nothing to be ashamed of. That it wasn’t a big deal. I realize now that he was right, but at the time, I felt like I wanted to dissolve into a big puddle of tear-slinging ooze.
Now, I feel really silly about the entire thing. There was no need for me to feel embarrassed about masturbating in any way. But I wasn’t ashamed of being caught. I was embarrassed because what I consider to be the most intimate thing I can do with another person had been interrupted by my friends. They could have caught me doing almost anything else, and I have a feeling that I wouldn’t have been so upset.
Even so, there was no need for that embarrassment, and I hope I can work past those sorts of feelings over something that I consider so beautiful. Orgasm in any way, shape, or form is one of the most beautiful discoveries humankind has made. There is nothing to be embarrassed about.
Hey! What’s going on with the blog? No posts in ages
Are you shutting it down?
No, don’t worry! We at WYTWY have been having a CRAZY end of the semester, and are on hiatus until this summer. Keep your eyes peeled this summer for more, though