Diary of An Unrepentant Sex Addict

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

We're Past Anxiety, and Well Into Panic

Anxiety is the first time you can't do it a second time.
Panic is the second time you can't do it a first time.

I'm here in Colorado, and damn it all to hell but I'm not able to perform.

I guess it's time I came clean, mostly to myself: I've let my health go these past few years, and I've been getting progressively worse. And now, it's gotten to the point where I can't get it up or keep it up for someone I have a long (pleasant) history with. I came out here looking forward to several sessions of no-holds (or holes) barred fornication. And yet, both times we've tried, I had trouble getting it up, and eventually lost it.

I know I have to get myself into a more healthy place. And I know that doing so will address this problem. But right now, I just feel like a total waste of space.

D

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Friday, November 18, 2005

The Other PBF

No, not the Perry Bible Fellowship, I mean Pussy-Blogging Friday. Plenty of female sex-bloggers write Cock-Blogging Wednesday posts, so I can play, too!

This is a little piece I like to call, "What my bisexual ex taught me about going down". It's nice and topical, since I leave in the morning for a week in Colorado. Since neither of us is in a serious relationship (she has a friends-with-benefits going on, but that's all), we plan to screw each other senseless, at least until Tuesday or Wednesday when Aunt Flo comes to visit in time for Thanksgiving. Not that we're opposed to playing in those conditions, but at least the first few days are generally extremely rough on her, for medical reasons.

(If only I knew of any interested readers in Denver!)

Anyway, let the descriptive begin...

I've said before, that the greatest lesson I got from P was patience... be patient with the woman, because some go off like a rocket, but some (most?) take time to get the motor running.

Following a close second, though, is this: don't be afraid of the pussy! Get down there and come face-to-face with it. Get close enough that she feels your breath on her outer labia. Not only does that tell her that you're close, it will contribute to the sensations turning her on. Be ready, and willing, to spend an hour or more down there before you can call the head complete. Odds are you won't have to. But if you're trying to rush things, she'll know that too. And it's an effective mood-killer.

My tongue is wide, as opposed to long. I can't lick my eyebrows (I can't even reach the tip of my nose), but when I flatten it out I can completely cover most outer labia. One of my favorite ways to start in on her, is to flatten my tongue and press it against the labia, dragging it slowly upwards until I'm able to flick the clit with the tip.

I like to treat cunnilingus as a complete course of seduction all by itself. I kiss the woman down there, and I'm not using that as a euphemism. I kiss her opening as though it were a mouth; I lightly probe with my tongue, I work the lips of my mouth against the lips of her pussy, as though it were her second mouth. I tease and nip at the "taint" like I would the tip of her chin. I kiss around the area, always working my way back to those wonderful lips.

Just hold that image in your head for a moment, make it a part of the way you regard the pussy.

Of course, there really isn't a parallel between the clit and the any part of the face. But that's OK, because I think about the clit as it's own distinct personality. I mean, every one is as different as the woman it's attached to. So I can't give a definitive approach to this, other than to recommend paying close attention to her-- her body will tell you if/when you're doing it right. Anything from dragging the rough surface of my tongue across it, to directly twiddling it with the tip of my tongue hardened like a finger. Sometimes, I just purse my lips and suck on it like it were a nipple.

I'm always torn at the moment of orgasm, though. Generally, I want to hold on and keep working on her for as long as she can take it. Sometimes, I like to climb up her body and plunge in to the hilt as her orgasm starts. When I decide to hold on and ride with it, I'll wrap my arms around her waist if I have to, to make sure I don't get thrown off. Whatever I do, I throw myself into it completely.

I guess I just have a love-affair with the vagina. I appreciate nice breasts, and flaired hips. But I could spend hours gazing upon and playing with a pussy, if the owner let me. Well, I'd start out gazing, but eventually I'd have to start playing with it again. It's just the way I am.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have packing to do...

Dausa

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Wednesday, November 16, 2005

A Late Wednesday Cock-Blogging: My First Other

My experimentation with bisexuality has been somewhat limited. That said, my first direct encounter with another penis still stays with me...

As it happens, I have had very little exposure to penii other than my own. In junior-high and high schools, I was in music programs that took the place of gym classes. That meant that I never had the experience of communal showering. Even when I went to church camps over the summers, I managed to avoid showering with others. Mostly, I was afraid that I'd get caught looking, if I did.

A side-effect of this was that the only other dicks I saw belonged to porn stars. And not only are they put in that line of work because of their size to begin with, but actresses tended to be petite to further the illusion. Thus, already-sizable cocks look even bigger.

One night in Colorado, I had my first experience with another man. I was out with three other people, two women and a man. One of the women was visiting me, and all four of us were (at the time) regular readers of the USENET newsgroup "soc.bi", a bisexuality discussion board. We had dinner, hung out. Eventually we started playing cards, which of course led to strip poker. Except we really didn't know how that sort of thing worked (how do you raise or bluff a bet?), so we ended up all four of us sitting there naked. After a very Monty Python-esque period of just sitting around carrying on conversation in the buff, people started giving each other backrubs. Still nude. Still, nothing going on.

I'm not sure at what point things finally started picking up, but I was being massaged by the other guy, who said aloud, "I think I could go for some MOTSS* action." I was still a little nervous, but decided to give it a toss.

So he moved around in front of me, and we just started caressing each other. This was all new ground for me. At first the two women were playing with each other (but later I would find out that they shortly gave that up in favor of the free show). Soon, I wasn't paying attention to them.

This was my first chest without breasts. I mean, I'm not a breast-fixated person, and I'd dated several women with small chests. But this was different. He was smooth, too, and I'm moderately furry (consistently hairy, but not thick matted hair), so that was new. At first, neither of us was hard. Then we started making out.

That was so strange to me. His lips weren't as soft, and there was stubble around them (I had a beard at the time). Aside from that, it wasn't that different. His style was more aggressive than most of my girlfriends had been, but hey, kissing is kissing, and after a while we were both showing signs of, err, growing interest.

And here's where we get to the cock-blogging part: I was stunned at the difference in our sizes. This guy was almost exactly my height (though more slender in build). And I just assumed that most cocks were about the same size. Not having ever seen any John Holmes films, most of the porn cock I had seen was relatively close in size. And this all being straight porn, you rarely saw two dicks close-enough together to compare size. But here mine was, vein-to-vein with another one, as he stroked us both with the same hand. And there was a pretty visible distinction between the two.

But putting all that aside for the time being, I was in a state of wonder. I'd never held another one, and here I was with the chance to jack one off. Looking back, I guess it was assumed that nothing more that mutual-masturbation was on the menu. I wasn't thinking about it at the time. But that's all we did. Though, we certainly took our time with it. I think we must have spent 30-45 minutes just kissing and necking while we stroked each other. At one point, he got one of the girls to get his lube, and the stroking improved immensely. Somewhere between 30 and 45 minutes, I came.

Hard.

No, harder than you're thinking.

We were seated, facing each other, on the floor. Our legs were somewhat intertwined, and our cocks were pointing at the ceiling. When I started to orgasm, the first few jets were strong-enough to go straight up with enough momentum to hit my chin, a distance of nearly two feet (remember that I'm over 6'3"). And it went everywhere. I was used to either using a towel, standing over a toilet, or (frankly) being inside a woman's mouth or her vagina. And when I wanked, I just didn't get that kind of volume!

But these things eventually end, and after we cleaned me up, we remembered that only I had come, thus far. So I turned my attention back to him. This was the first time I heard about anti-depressants impacting the male's ability to orgasm (years later, I'd experience this first-hand for myself).

I did everything I could to that cock. Everything that I had always wanted a partner to do when using their hand on me. But five, ten minutes passed with no results. Oh, he was loving it, but my wrists were getting cramped. He started to stop me, explaining about the meds issue. But I was having none of that. I was going to be patient and persevere (an attitude I later applied to learning to go down on women). And after another five or so minutes, I (and the two-woman audience) was rewarded with another (more sedate) fountain. Mission accomplished!

We then cleaned up, got dressed, and went to Denny's.

Looking back, I wonder what might have been different if we'd tried to do more. Would I have been as willing to dive into oral sex? It would be several more years before I started sticking my toe into the murky waters of cruising for anonymous blowjobs from men. What if he'd blown me that night? Would I have ended up on the cruising scene sooner? No way of knowing, I suppose.

So that's the story of the first time I touched a penis not my own. Funny (and sad) part is, I can't even remember his name, some 11 years or so later.

Dausa
* MOTSS means "member of the same sex", and is an old USENET-era abbreviation for same-sex play. MOTOS meant "member of the opposite sex", and MOTAS meant "member of the appropriate sex", for when you wanted to be politely neutral.

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I (heart) BBCA

I've been TiVo'ing more and more material from BBC America. It started with me using BBCA to get the 4th season of Coupling before it came out on DVD. From there, via commercials for other programs, I also took in Wire in the Blood, and Second Sight (I'm a proud Clive Owen fan ever since Croupier, which I had initially only watched to see Alex Kingston topless). But after those series ran their length, I hadn't been watching BBCA much.

Then Violet made a passing comment about Desperate Housewives being a take on Footballers' Wives, and how the original did it so much better. So I set the TiVo to grab an ep or two, to see for myself. I love the show now, but I think it and DH are more different than alike, but that's not the point.

The point is the other stuff I've begun watching. Mile High looked to be more of a comedy than a drama from the ads, but it's been more dramatic than funny. But it also has loads of boobies, and you can never go wrong with lots of boobies. Bad Girls is another can't-lose proposition: lots of attractive women in prison. It's like Oz meets Sex and the City. Except that there is no humor at all; I guess it's more like the ladies of SatC locked up in Oz, being subjected to abuse. Not that that wouldn't have an appeal all its own.

Mile High and Bad Girls. Joe Bob says, "Check 'em out."

D

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Monday, November 14, 2005

It Actually Reads Kinda Hot (In Places)

Came across this just now, you may have already seen it:



Just as she should be ever alert to keep the quantity of sex as low as possible, the wise bride will pay equal attention to limiting the kind and degree of sexual contacts. Most men are by nature rather perverted, and if given half a chance, would engage in quite a variety of the most revolting practices. These practices include among others performing the normal act in abnormal positions; mouthing the female body; and offering their own vile bodies to be mouthed in turn.

Couldn't have that, now, could we?

D

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Thursday, November 10, 2005

Tagging is the New Black. Not Really.

Having completed the easy parts of the meme, I'm now trying to find 5 people to tag. So, I'm tagging: Jo, DarkNeuro, Avatar, SpankMe and Laura the Tooth.

Hopefully, none of you will hold this against me...

D

Edit: Looks like DarkNeuro already did it. Gotta find someone else...

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Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Score: 23 to 5

ArousedGirl tagged me with a meme, of all things. Funny part is, I see it going around LiveJournal all the time, but I only use my LJ account so that friends can let me in to locked posts. I never post to it, so I never get tagged. Clever, crafy Girl, though, tagged me here. The basic instructions are:
  1. Delve into your blog archive.
  2. Search the archives for the 23rd post.
  3. Find the 5th sentence, or closest to.
  4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions. Ponder it for meaning, subtext or hidden agendas.
  5. Tag 5 people to do the same.
So I'm to go back in my archives, find the 23rd post I've made, and the fifth sentence. That post would be this one, and the sentence itself is:

But it got me thinking about my earlier years, and some of the people that I so desperately wanted to shag, but with whom it was not meant to be.

That sentence actually has some fairly recent relevance, as the person who is probably the most unrequited of my unrequited crushes just got married. She and I will always be very close friends, but I had to accept the fact years ago that friends would be the extent of it. Beautiful as she is physically, and wonderful as her personality is, the hard truth is that we were different in a few small-but-critical ways. But most of all, the person she married is wonderful not just to her, but for her as well.

But also, I'm in the middle of a long dry spell. Certainly I wasn't too worried about it while recovering from surgery, but aside from one (awfully nice) blowjob, it's been the first week of August since I've had any nookie. And a part of me, the part that gets desperate and throws better judgement out the window at times like this, is berating me for the opportunities I turned away last May-ish. Not that I'm second-guessing my logic or reasoning; it was the right thing to do, even if it meant settling for Rosy Palm. But like anyone, I'm occassionally plagued by self-doubt (I'm just plagued by it more often than most, I imagine). And those doubts have lately been having a field day.

I'm also in the midst of some financial problems, and I don't really have the money to be trying to go out on dates. Even a few drinks at a bar would strain my budget, let alone a nice dinner. Despite this, I find myself vainly reading the local women-seeking-men Craigslist ads, as well as the casual encounters ads. I even skim through the "erotic services" (read: escorts) section, just to "window shop". I've seen an ad in the W4M section a few times over the past few weeks that I'm 99% certain is the woman I saw in May, but chose to not pursue because I knew I'd just be using her. So not only is part of my kicking the rest of me over it, but I have the reminder.

So, I've been making due with a more hands-on approach. I've actually been playing around with sensation and technique, just to mix things up. I've been trying to achieve the phenomenon that Avatar recently wrote about, but thus far to no avail. Personally, I'd be elated if I could do that, and definately understand that fellow's sense of satisfaction at his body's function.

I've also been weeding out more of my old porn. It's kind of funny to re-watch tapes that used to set me off like a rocket, and realize they don't even lift me up any more. (That, and these days I just fast-forward any scene that has Marc Wallice in it on general principle. I don't care if the scene was shot 10 years before he falsified his HIV status. He's forever and always a turd in my book.)

So, aside from some minor regrets, I'd still say I did the right thing last May. And as for those who never were, the truth is I have more regrets over people I have fucked, than people I haven't.

I don't know if I can manage to tag 5 people, but I'll try to over the next few days...

D

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Monday, November 07, 2005

Spread the Ass Blogging Meme!

I can't get Ass Blogging Monday off the ground by myself, people! I need my loyal readers and fellow perverts to spread the word and spread their cheeks!

Help me make this my legacy to the world of sex-blogging!

D

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Ass Blogging Monday: Ass Health

As of this morning, my ass has a clean bill-of-health. The doctor who performed surgery on me a few months ago said I probably wouldn't need to come back for a good 13 or 14... years.

That's a nice span of time, as far as I'm concerned. I'm not looking forward to having a colonoscopy ever again, but if I have to do it at least I have enough time to forget just how unpleasant it was. That way, it will all be fresh and new and exciting again.

So I'm cool again. Mostly. Still occassional soreness. As I said in an earlier post you really don't appreciate the little things, like not having persistent rectal pain, until you lose it. So what happened, you ask? And what were the ramifications? (Note that the part after the cut is less sexy and more TMI-like.)

I had an anal fissue. Most likely, I got it because my diet is crap, and I used to get constipated occassionally. Now, I'll be taking Metamucil daily for the rest of my life. If I get another fissure, more surgery could mean a loss of sphincter control. And while I have minimal fashion sense, I'm pretty sure I won't look very good in an adult diaper.

So this thing had been bothering me for well over a year. For the longest time, I thought it was just 'roids, because I sit on my ass for a living (I'm a software engineer, and I also do a lot of open-source projects in my spare time) and that happens. But it kept getting progressively worse, and started bleeding more and more. On at least one occassion, it seemed like I'd lost at least a good half-cup or more of blood. Best of all, every time I took a dump, it felt like I was trying to pass a jewel-encrusted howler monkey. So I finally broke down and went to an ass-doctor. (They have a nicer name for themselves, but "ass" is much easier to type.)

Ass-doctor explained everything to me, and even had me try a regimen for a few weeks that might have promoted the healing without the surgery. He rocks, and if you need an ass-doctor in Silicon Valley I'll whole-heartedly recommend him. The regimen didn't work. He didn't actually think it would, but he wanted to rule it out before resorting to surgery. Alas, surgery was my destiny.

First step was a colonoscopy. This was, as it happens, the first time I'd been under anaesthesia since having my tonsils taken out at age 4 (which, as it happens, I still remember 33 years later). As an insomniac, I found the thought of knowing I am going to be asleep within the next three seconds to be kind of novel. Until I started coming to about five minutes earlier than planned, and got to experience the last few yanks and twists of the 'scope. That's a memory that'll be sticking around for a while.

Next was an upper-gastrointestinal tract test. The less said about that, the better. Large quantities of chalky-white barium solution. I was shitting heavy cream for a solid day.

Then the surgery. As I've mentioned before, I grossly under-estimated the time it would take to recover. I was on Darvocet, and even that barely made a dent in the pain. But I'm better, now, and I'm pretty-much pain-free.

For me, the ass has long been a source of pleasure. I've personally manipulated it, I've used a variety of dildos, vibrators, other small smooth items that I could wrap in a condom, even a banana once or twice. I haven't been fucked by another man, nor have I been fucked by a woman with a strap-on. One really hot girl I knew in Long Beach managed to get three fingers in me, but that's the closest I've come (and I think this was also around the time the fissure had formed). As I wrote about the really fantastic time I had with that one escort, a good rimming drives me wild, and I'll happily scrub myself extra-clean if I think that's on the menu for the evening.

So it's safe to say that I'm happy to have my ass back. Take care of your ass! It will always be there to prop you up!

Dausa

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