33 Days, 33 Posts: Day 10 - Double Digits, CBW & BJs

Wow! Ten days! To think, I only gave myself five days, six max.

It's Wednesday, and I haven't done a cock-blogging Wednesday post in a while. Over at la fille mariée, I commented on one of her posts where she was reflecting on how she wants to become the best she can possibly be at that most critical-to-the-advancement-of-humanity skills: the blowjob.

I offered my proverbial two cents' worth, but for CBW I just want to ruminate on the three best BJs I can remember. Since I have another 23 days to go before I can look forward to one, memories will have to be enough for now. Besides, my first nine posts have been whine, whine, whine, poor me wanting to wank and not letting myself. So here's some walking in my memories, some wonderful memories that I can call upon to keep me warm at nights...

First, and most recently, was one of the people I met during my "Craigslist experiment". I mentioned him in glowing terms at the time, but let's just be that much more explicit. As I mentioned, this guy has a tongue-stud. I love piercings. Especially when the piercing is working my hard-on. I don't buy the premise that gay men just naturally give better head... I've had head from men as mediocre as the most mediocre of head from women. That said, this is the best BJ I can remember. And it came from a guy. Make of that what you will. He didn't use his hands at all. It was all tongue and lips. He laid me on his bed, on my back, with my ass at the edge. He placed his hands on either side of my hips and lowered his face to my cock. It wasn't fully hard yet, so he took what I had to offer and started warming it up. It didn't take long to get it hard. Man, that stud felt amazing. He took me from tip to base, doing things I can't even put into words. I am not exaggerating when I say he spent over twenty minutes working me over. There were at least five times that I was sure I was about to explode, and each time he expertly stopped at just the right moment. Here's something he did, that was certainly augmented by the piercing, that drove me nuts: he would take it as deep as he could, then slowly withdraw, going even more slowly over the last few inches. That's not the special part, the special part is that for these last few inches, he pulled back (down and away from my crotch) in a way that normally would make the tip pop out of his mouth. But he used counter-pressure from his tongue to keep it in his mouth. The net effect was to create a level of suction and pressure that I had never felt before. Finally, finally he let me have my orgasm. And it was good.

Second one that comes, ahem, to mind... the first time I visited that sex worker who rocked my world. That post has a nice blow-by-blow (again, ahem) of our first time together, but here I'll just focus on the oral she graced me with. She's the one whom I've referred to before as having done a lot of rimming (I didn't know ahead of time that was coming, but thankfully I'd washed myself very thoroughly in my pre-session shower). Before she even took me in her mouth, she'd gotten me harder than I could (at the moment) remember with all the rimming. So when she finally took me in, I was sure I'd explode immediately. She went deep, deeper than I would have thought someone as petite as her could. She used her hands a little more than I usually like, but her tongue never stopped moving, so I barely noticed. God, I was so sure I was going to lose it sooner than I wanted to. Eventually, we stopped and moved on to straight sex. But later, after I'd had time to recover from my first orgasm, she started in on me again and refused to stop until I'd come from her oral attentions.

Thirdly (and for now lastly), I go back a good deal further to before I left Oklahoma for Colorado. It was the first time with someone I'd end up eventually living with and exploring in many more ways, with. But that first time, just stands out. To be fair, this is the more emotionally-vested of the three, so I'm probably embellishing it in my memory. But what I remember is how warm and wet her mouth was, that first time as she slowly took me in and inched her way down. She came closer to taking the full length than anyone before her had, and that last little inch or so of sensory input made me feel like I was going to die from the pleasure. I remember thinking that I had probably fallen asleep in front of the TV and was just having a dream-- after all, I was not the sort who manages to seduce the hot next-door-neighbor into a blowjob. But it was real, all right. I don't remember how long it lasted, but I do remember her taking the time to lick and nuzzle around the base of my cock, not just the balls. it was like she was getting a buzz from the musky scent between the base and the join of my legs to my groin. She swirled her tongue in little circles along the underside, stopping at that magical spot just underneath the head that drives me crazy, before sucking right there and trilling her tongue on the ridge of the glans. When I came, and boy did I come, she swallowed me completely. And when I passionately kissed her afterwards, I had unknowingly passed a secret test in my willingness to do so. Men: if you don't like the thought of kissing her after she's swallowed, you'd best remember that the alternative is that she never swallows again. Deal with it.

Enough for tonight.

Dausa

33 Days, 33 Posts: Day 3 - Oh, It's Hard All Right

Actually, right this minute it's only about half-hard. Fleshbot presented another "take that, Dausa" moment with today's video. I don't want to wonder about the necessary mechanics of filming hardcore sex underwater, but her hair looks devastatingly sexy, flowing around her face like it does.

I came so very close to giving in. It's still way too early in this effort to crack so easily. Several enticing possibilities on the Craigslist m4m casual encounters forum. Multiple opportunities to go to someone's location, unzip, be blown, and leave without any pesky details. But that's the kind of reckless, emotionally-empty encounters I'm trying to break myself from.

It's Wednesday, known in our little sub-culture as Cock-Blogging Wednesday. So, I'm going to think about my friend a little bit, just to assure myself that this isn't about any self-loathing or anything.

The Girl has a survey she put together, asking men to make some honest judgments about how they regard their tackle. One thing I couldn't help but notice, some of her questions lack neutral answers. She asks if you (the reader) think that smaller is better or bigger. Then, asks whether you think women prefer smaller or larger. But neither question gives you an option of saying neither (other than just not ticking any of those boxes). No way to say that you think women (or at least, most of the women you've interacted with) are less concerned with size (big or small) than with skill (or lack thereof). She asks if you are happy with your own size, and if given the chance would you have a larger cock.

Well, I'm pretty damn happy with my little friend. I don't think I'd want mine much bigger, as all of my partners have been plenty happy with what I had to offer. And many of them have had lovers larger than myself (some significantly larger, in fact... at least one person has had two or more that were honestly 12" or more). And if there is anything I've prided myself on more than being an attentive lover, it's that I've managed to foster relationships where I could have these sorts of conversations in honesty. Even now, as I struggle to take this month-long break from orgasms, there's little I'd change about my dick. If anything, I'd opt to be a show-er rather than a grow-er. Neither I nor anyone I've dated has every seen a dick with such a range in growth. When soft, it's smaller than my thumb. If you see me in a completely deflated state, it's pretty unflattering. But once it grows, well, most people forget any misgivings they may have had. But first impressions do count for a lot. When I see dicks like the one Bad Bad Girl shows a picture of in this column, I can't help but be jealous a little bit. I don't have a semi-hard state like that-- for me it's either thumb-dick or billy-club. Maybe that's an erection shot... it looks more like semi-hard to me, but it could be fully-hard. Still, I wouldn't trade my cock for anyone else's, not even a porn stars. Mine makes my partners (when I have them) happy. And, more to the point, it makes me happy.

(Well, when I'm not trying to make a point to myself.)

Dausa

More Soloing For CBW

All the paperwork was taken care of today, and I am now completely and officially unemployed. So I won't be visiting any pros anytime soon (well, maybe a little nibble off the severance check wouldn't hurt). As such, looks like it's me and my left hand for now. So for this Wednesday, here's what I just finished doing...

Even though I see the lay-off as a good thing for me, it still has me tense. The best way to relax my tension is a good orgasm. And not just a quicky-jerk into the bathroom sink, either. So I settled myself in to allow myself to completely enjoy it.

Lately, I've been getting rid of a lot of my porn. It's mostly old, and boring to me anymore. Same goes for the erotica I have, even the old Penthouse-letters-style magazines. So I figured I would see what I could do with just my hands and my imagination, without any priming. To do this, I laid myself on my bed all stretched out and bare. I started by just running my hands over my skin, not even focusing on my genitals just yet. I'm moderately-hairy, so I can elicit a fair amount of sensation just from doing this. This isn't meant to produce the hard-on, it's just to just warming up my sensory system, get it to start paying attention.

I started to think about some of the really hot women I (used to) work with. When I am looking at a woman as a potential sexual encounter, I think about two things: what will her pussy look like as I'm about to eat it, and how will she look while sucking me off.

(There's a young-ish East Indian woman I would have loved to chat up, but she stayed tightly clustered with other Indian women all the time-- lunch, breaks, etc. She had beautiful, playful eyes. I could easily imaging looking into them as she looked up at me from between my legs. And I loved to think about how her face would reflect what my tongue was doing to her.)

Hard-on is almost 100% now. I start to actually stroke my thighs and around the base, but not the cock itself yet.

(There's J, the cute little Asian who sits/sat right next to me. The one who could drive me crazy with just plain white cotton panties, who alas is married. I have a harder time picture her going down on me, but oh can I imaging what her body would feel like in my hands while I ate her out. Barely 5'2", I could probably hold her up to my face, hoist her in my arms while licking away.)

Now I'm totally hard. Cat can't scratch it. I'm placing my hands at the base gently, and just massaging the skin there, ticking my sac with my fingertips. I lightly start to trace my fingers up the center of the underside, along the way to the head. Light, tickling caresses.

(ML has a beautiful smile, and an amazing chest. When I think about her, I fantasize that I'm laying on my back and she's sitting on my face. I want to be able to reach up and play with those fantastic breasts. Something about her, something in the way she carries herself and her sense of self-assuredness, tells me she would give killer head.)

I don't usually use lube, and I'm not using it tonight. But I do sometimes wet my fingers with saliva, and let them play along the underside of the glans, to really whip up my nerve-endings. If I'm not careful, I could set myself off too quickly this way. God, sometimes I wish I could still bend over in half and lick myself. That's what I try to simulate with my fingers-- those tentative first few times when I could only just reach the head of my cock with my tongue. I was young-enough then that even such a tentative tongue-to-cock caress could send me over the edge. But I can't do it these days. I can take the little drops of pre-come that work their way out of the tip, take them on my fingertip and rub it on my lips, on my tongue.

(EC is the ultimate, though. Beautiful red hair, gorgeous blue eyes. A few discreet tattoos in discreet places. And a very playful, flirty nature. It is so easy to picture her nibbling and nuzzling the base, the side of my shaft, before actually taking me as deeply as she can. She has porcelain skin, and I have a ruddier complexion courtesy of my mom's side of the family. I can picture her skin against mine. I wonder if she's as red below as she is above. And I somehow know she's a screamer. I can only imagine how hard she would clamp her legs around my ears when she came.)

Sometimes, when I get really close, and I'm really turned on, I have a really strong desire to taste myself again, like I used to when I could blow myself. I imagine myself twisting around into a yoga-like position so I can aim it into my mouth. Or just letting it go all over my stomach and chest, then running my fingers through it and licking them off. It's a function of my arousal level, though, because the feeling passes as soon as I'm actually climaxing.

This time, I wanted it pretty badly again. But with my foot being broken, I couldn't go the yoga route. And like I said, once I start actually coming the desire isn't as strong. After spending about 10 minutes just bringing myself to the edge and backing off, I finally let myself finish. It mingle with the hair on my chest and tummy, and I lost the urge to take a taste. But it felt so good when the moment came. I laid here another 10 minutes or so, until I had to do something about the mess on my chest.

Mmmm... a day without an orgasm is a day lost, that you can never get back again...

Dausa

Links in Lieu of CBW

Still here, foot's still broken. I hobble around pretty effectively, but it's draining having to use the crutches all the time.

So for now, I can only offer you interesting links. Useful to anyone who thinks I might be their "kind of guy"...

Ten Reasons Why You Should Date a Geek

The Do's and Don't's of Dating Geeks

(taken from Erosblog.com)

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.

I Love My Penis

Getting back into the habit of regular blogging has been harder than I was expecting. Not just in terms of writing regularly, but also in my reading of other blogs as well. I've managed to keep up with a few, but I confess that I'm out of touch with most of you guys. But for now, I'm happy to report that my closest friend and I are back on speaking terms. Better than that, we're back to the old comfort level; we've re-discovered the passion in our relationship.

Man, you really don't appreciate simple pleasures like masturbation until something interferes with them. Of all the after-effects I was expecting from the surgery I had last month, being off my libido for so long wasn't one of them. I expected it would be absent for a while; after all, this was surgery in a very sensitive area, and even with painkillers the pain was going to be a constant companion for a while.

But even once the pain had packed up and left, the libido wasn't ready to end the vacation and come home. Believe me, I tried. The mental component was there-- I still had the emotional urge for sex. But as the saying goes, the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak. Weak? Not even interested in trying. Err, I was interested, but the parts not directly adjacent to the brain were less so.

So the first time I was able to bring myself off, about 3 weeks after the surgery, was almost as amazing as my very first time. Even still, it was another week before I did it again. After that, the old me started to return. For a few nights, I was back to my 1-2 per-day regular relaxation techniques. It still ebbs and flows, though. As I write this, I think it's been nearly a week since I last took things into hand. I plan to remedy that as soon as I finish, though.

A wonderful highlight came about a week and a half ago. A former lover called up and wanted to, well, just drop by and give me head. I actually had to think about it for a bit, because I was on an ebb rather than a flow. I was seriously worried that I wouldn't be able to get things up for her, let alone keep them up for the whole event. But I had nothing to worry about, turns out. Not only was I up for it physically, she had apparently picked up a few new tricks since we'd last been together. Or maybe it was the long time since I'd been with someone, combined with the yearning to put the flatline-libido period behind me. Probably a combination of the two. But she rang my bell something wonderful.

Oh, it was so nice. As the title-line reads, I truly love my cock. Not just because of our physical closeness, but because of all the lovely memories it's brought me. Sometimes, on weekend mornings, I allow myself an hour or more to play with myself. I'll re-read some favorite erotica, perhaps, or just close my eyes and let my imagination set things up. Sometimes, I lay a towel under my hips so I can use lube without worrying about the bed-sheets. Most of the time, I don't need it. These morning sessions are meant to be slow, gentle, and deliberate. If the phone rings, I don't answer it. When I use my hands, I don't just rub up and down. I caress from my inner thighs to my nipples. (I don't know why men have nipples, but as long as they're there I'm going to enjoy them.) I'll lightly scratch my fingernails along the most sensitive areas. It may be 10-15 minutes before I even touch my cock. But when I do, again I use both hands and go slowly, lovingly, caressing every inch from base to tip. If I'm not using lube, I'll sometime wet my fingertips with saliva and use that to slicken things up. In my head, that's always sexier than lube. And in my head, I'm reliving favorite moments with favorite people. My first threesome, maybe. Or the time in Seattle that I and my partner made love 6 times in less than 12 hours (I was a younger man then). Depending on how long I wish to draw it out, I might bring myself to the edge and back off several times. But eventually, it comes down to the moment when I know I can't turn back. When I decide I'm ready, and let all the tension spill over and burst. I probably actually cry out at this point; I'm usually not paying attention to that at the time. I left every pulse run its course, every jet lay where it falls. Then I drop my hands away, and just relax. Let my breathing slowly return to normal. Let the warm feeling of exhaustion sweep over me. I can feel my own fluids starting to cool on my skin, and sometimes I play with them a little.

Eventually, I get up and shower. And not surprisingly, those days are usually the ones when I'm in my better moods.

I'm glad our relationship is strong again.

Dausa

Because It Is Wednesday

Interestingly, in the sex-blog-o-sphere Wednesday has come to represent Cock Blogging, while Friday has been taken for Pussy Blogging. I wonder how long before someone declares Mondays to be the day for Ass Blogging (if so, I have a doozy of a non-sexual ass post).

So today, as a return to (hopefully) regular blogging, I'll talk a bit about my relationship with my best friend, how it is that we've grown distant over the last few months, and how I hope to make amends...

First off, the reason I've been so out of touch and quiet lately is that I've been suffering from an ever-worsening health problem. One for which I finally had surgery this past Friday. Nothing serious, mind you-- I was in and out of the surgical center in the span of a few hours. But the problem itself created a lot of intermittent pain. Pain that, when present, totally killed my libido. I had a fissure in some of the soft tissue near ye olde poop chute. So, not only was I given to bouts of amazingly-intense pain, the pain was very close to my pleasure centers, as well. That made it hard to get into the mood, let alone stay in the mood.

So over the last few months, I've found myself taking things in hand less and less often. The emotional and psychological desire remained, but the physical part got progressively weaker. None of the pain was at all close to or even related to my penis, but it's just tough to get worked up when you're already in pain. And when you have a tendency to rock your hips as you get close to orgasm, even if you started out OK you may well lose it when you start associating the onset of orgasm with bad pain. And by bad, I mean both intense and also not fun pain. I know from fun pain, and this ain't it.

So I had surgery on Friday. I had the foresight to rub a couple out Wednesday night, and had planned to on Thursday as well. But I was starting to fret over the surgery, so the mood never took off. Now, it's been pretty much exactly a week since my last pull. For me, that's like going a similar length of time without eating. But I still can't get into the mood. Even with the painkillers (or maybe due in part to them?), I'm just not there yet. And this means that when I do finally return to self-pleasure, I'm going to have one hell of an orgasm built up.

I almost wanna try extra-hard to find a partner for breaking this fast, but I can only imagine the stress it would put on the condom...

So here's my contribution to Wednesday. I confess a certain sense of loss as the void that has developed between me and my cock. I want us to re-connect, to get that old spark back. C'mon. I'll take you out to a nice dinner tonight, and we can go back home after, just the two of us.

(And in general news, yes I am more or less back in the saddle. The sex life has been nearly non-existent, which coupled with the pain just took the wind outta my sails. I hope to return to regular writing now, even if I have to mine the past-experiences file some more. It's tough to try and find a new partner when you're facing a week's worth of back-logged work from your medical leave.)

Dausa