Hat Trick Of Sorts

(As a bit of an offset to the navel-gazing of the previous post...)

Speaking of "threes", I managed a bit of a "hat trick" of sorts this last Friday night: three orgasms in the span of 90 minutes or so. Considering I was just three days away from turning 40, and that I'm in terrible shape still, that's no mean feat.

I'd started the evening by hooking up with someone off of Craigslist. Went over to his place, and got a pretty decent BJ. Then, even though he had made it clear that he wasn't expecting reciprocation, I figured I could use more practice so I returned the favor. Thing is, I noticed that I had never really gone soft after my orgasm. He noticed this, too, and we ended by both jerking off. There was some hot porn on the TV, and it was generally just a pretty good scene overall.

Then I went home, and realized I was still about half-hard, so I figured why not try? I pulled up some favorite video clips from YouPorn (which I like because they give you download-links for the clips, so you can save your own copies of the ones you like the most). Next thing I know, I'm shooting a third time. I honestly can't remember the last time I was able to do that (maybe at the end of the "33 Days" experiment last year, I'm not sure).

I sure felt young again, I say that much!

-D

33 Days, 33 Posts: Day 27 - One Week From Today

...I'm gonna have the most powerful orgasms I've had since the day I discovered masturbation.

A little over two years ago, I took a class called "The Art of Living". I was extremely skeptical, because it sounded very new-agish and all. And it seemed to be very focused on the East Indian community, which I'm not exactly going to blend into very easily. But the person who suggested it was someone I trusted, and I went. It was a very positive experience, though like many things I've tried that had positive impact, I managed to fall out of the habits.

So today, I decided to get back into the habit. I went to a local weekly meditation this morning, where I stood out like the proverbial sore thumb; only white person there, and 5-6 inches taller than anyone else. It was awkward, as I'd forgotten a lot of the mechanics, but eventually I got back into the rhythm. The next thing is for me to make certain I go again next week. There have been so many things in the past that I've tried to do in the name of self-improvement, and to the one I always end up falling out of the habit after a few months or so.

Unlike a lot of people, I can't change my habits, or create new ones, very easily. In fact, it's extremely difficult. Trying to change my diet in an effort to lose weight... trying to get up earlier so that I can exercise even a little bit... all of these are things that I sincerely want to do, but regularly fail to do. For someone as adept at software engineering as I've proven to be, I'm stunningly absent-minded when it comes to remembering new additions to daily routines.

In other news, last night I dreamed that I was once again able to, ahem, attend to my own needs. It's a wonder I didn't wake up swimming in my own fluids. It felt so real, I couldn't believe my luck (and upon waking, realized that I was right not to). I tell you, if I ever manage to get to where I can do that again, I may never leave my apartment. I sure as shit won't be trying any "33 Days" stunts like this one again...

-D

33 Days, 33 Posts: Day 26 - Is It Really Just One Week Away?

It occurs to me that if I can hold out for just one more week, just seven more days beyond today, I will have reached my goal. I might actually, err, pull this off.

My nuts feel like they're the size of grapefruits. I know, on an intellectual level, that there's really little effective difference between the quantity of pent-up, ummm, energy between seven days and twenty-six days. It's purely psychological, I know, to think that the quantity and force of the orgasm I have on the 3rd will be that much different that if I'd broken down on day eight and gone scrambling for the stash of porn.

But it's going to feel like it, whether it's true or not. I'm not sure what I'll do on that day. I'm not dating anyone, and I'm not exactly a pick-up artist so I can't just assume that I can go to a bar or club and pull. I'm trying really hard to get out of the habit of commercial sex (this stunt is part of that larger effort), so I'm not letting myself think in those terms. At least, not yet. But it seems like it would be a shame to, well, "waste" what is going to a monumental emission on the porcelain of my bath-tub. On the other hand, I feel like if I were to be getting a blowjob I'd be obligated to warn my partner that there may be an issue of, well, volume.

Yeah, a long, slow, sloppy blowjob would be the ideal way to celebrate my birthday...

-D

33 Days, 33 Posts: Day 20 - Giving Myself a Hand

No, I still haven't broken down and gone on a mad masturbatory spree. But I sure thought about it a lot, today. I didn't go out much, but everywhere I went, every store I went in, the special-of-the-day seemed to be erect nipples and full, ripe lips.

For some reason, it also occurred to me to think back on how long it's been since I wanked for a partner. With my long-term partner P in Denver, I used to do so pretty often. She loved watching me, and watching it spurt out when I came. Sometimes she would "help out" by licking me to provide lubrication. I think the most recent, though, was probably E. But that would still mean that it was sometime in early-to-mid 2001. What a shame... wanking for a partner (and watching them wank, as well) is pretty hot.

-D

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

Forgive Me, Readers, For I Have Sinned...

It's been nearly two weeks since my last orgasm.

According to the foot doctor, I only broke one bone, not two. I have an "Aircast", which at least lets me wear my jeans instead of the athletic shorts or running pants, none of which have pockets for my keys, wallet, etc. They gave me Vicodin for the pain, which I've stopped taking now. The pain is now pretty minor, and the V upsets my stomache and prevents me from enjoying the food I have to eat in order to keep myself on the mend.

So, part of my pondering for 2006 is what exactly I want to try and do, relationships-wise. I've already been bolder than usual, actually actively flirting. In an optomitrist's office, no less. But I'm still not clear on what I really want out of it. Part of me wants to try to hit the 100 mark this year (by my best memory, I'm at 92 partners thus far), but another part of me would be just as happy to find one person to have 8 persons' worth of sex with, instead.

As I've thought about this, I realized I haven't rubbed one out since just before I got back from Oklahoma. Of course, I haven't really been in much of a mood these past 2-3 days, with the foot and the drugs and all. This happens, sometimes, I get too busy or too preoccupied to wank for days at a time, then make up for it by going 2-3 a day for a week or so. But the first one, after such a break, that's a treat. All the pressure has built up. When I had the money to go to escorts or massage parlors, I'd prefer to break a fast like this under those circumstances. When I do next orgasm, it'll be high in both volume and pressure. It seems almost a waste to send it down the sink or shower drain. Much better to be buried to the balls inside someone, or have them taking as much into their mouth as they can, looking up into my eyes while I come.

Damn. I think I'll go break the fast, now...

D

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

Old Porn Never Dies

...it just gets shuffled to the back of the drawer and forgotten.

As I mentioned last post, I recently gave away my waterbed. The bed frame doubled as my dresser (which means I'm currently looking for a cheap dresser), but had far more drawers than I needed for clothes. Naturally, I used the remaining drawers for porn. Some of it I'd been carrying around with me from one address to the next for the better part of 18 years.

That's right: '80s porn.

For those who have grown up with the spectre of AIDS their entire life, the concept of slick-produced, professional (as opposed to the current trend of all amateurs all the time) porn without condoms must be truly a novel one. But there they were: four or more tapes dating to the late '80s. These were after AIDS, of course, but before the porn industry got a sense of responsibility and started requiring condom use.

Oh, the names and the faces. The (mostly) natural breasts. Anyone remember Amber Lynn? What about Kristara Barrington or Angel Kelly? Linda Wong, Sheena Horne, Aja. The list goes on. Most of these haven't been heard from in over a decade (Amber Lynn still shows up on talk shows from time to time, and places like "The Man Show").

The men, some of them are still around. Apparently, as long as there has been porn, there has been Ron Jeremy. But others, like Tom Byron, seem to have moved on to other things. One face I could have done without seeing was Marc Wallice, who I do believe knowingly continued to work in the '90s after testing positive for HIV. I can't even stand to watch him in a scene, with or without condom.

But that all aside, those tapes brought back some memories, for certain. I remember when the first couple were the only video porn I owned. Watching thoses scenes again, after all this time, was like finding a long-believed-lost high school yearbook, only with breasts and money shots. Today's porn actors just don't do it for me the way the old school did. Maybe because you remember your first few so fondly, but I haven't really seen anyone in a film from the last 3-5 years who could match Amber Lynn for sheer voraciousness in appetite, or Kristara Barrington for natural good looks.

Come back, gals, we still love you.

Dausa

[Edit: I don't mean to suggest that those performers who have chosen to leave the industry and move on with their lives should return if they are no longer interested. I was trying to make the point that even though they may be in their late-30's to mid-40's, they're almost certainly still attractive. Not all porn stars have to be in the barely-legal bracket.]

More Self-Suckage

Another Edible Dirt cartoon worth reading (with regards to my former flexibility):

http://catmydog.keenspace.com/d/20040830.html

Actually, they're all worth reading.

D

Not As Unique As I Had Thought

For those who would follow in my, err, footsteps: How to Suck Your Own Dick

I think the women readers can at least appreciate the illustrations.

D

(Edit: And as long as I'm in a linky mood, here's a good illustration of my feelings on smoking.)

Bending Over, Just Not Backwards

On one of my trips to London, I saw a show on some BBC channel called Digital Sex that featured Alexis Arquette. He referred to "The Order of the Snake Eating Its Tail" (though that symbolism already has various meanings in other cultures).

That is, he was talking about auto-fellatio.


This is something with which I have direct experience. And I'm actually not (too) ashamed to admit it. It all started when I was about 15, and it came about (so to speak) through an unlikely combination of flexibility, determination, and physical fortune...

I had discovered masturbation already, but I was already wanting more than it had to offer. I was deathly shy around girls in school. I knew of at least one or two friends who were already having sex, and I hated being limited to fantasies. But I was. So I was trying to come up with interesting alternatives to plain old stroking off. I don't know when I started thinking about it, but at some point, as I was seated and stroking, it seemed that the distance between my mouth and my penis wasn't that far. As it would happen, I hadn't really had any bisexual leanings at this point. I guess the thought of sucking my own dick didn't register as "gay" in my brain. But I couldn't quite reach!

I experimented with different chairs, trying to find one that was the right height for sitting in such that my pelvis could be tilted slightly upward. Turns out that the toilet was just right (with the lid down, of course). But that didn't quite bridge the gap by itself. At this point, I was maybe 2-3 inches away from reaching. I couldn't even hit the tip with my tongue. I was not going to be denied!

For weeks, I diligently tried each night. I stretched and relaxed. I wasn't in great shape, but I was active-enough to be in decent shape. I was also fairly limber, maybe because of the unusual exercises that being in marching band called for. Who knows? What I do know is that after about a month, my perserverance paid off. I was able to swab the head with my tongue. It wasn't exactly Deep Throat, but it was a start. And it was a damn sight better than my hand. I had an amazing orgasm that first time. But I wasn't ready to declare victory just yet. I was sure I could do more.

After weeks more of exercise and stretching, I finally did it: I got my mouth around the head. I felt like I had discovered a cure for cancer. At last! No longer would I have to overcome shyness, just to get oral copulation! I could only manage the head, but compared to my hand, I was in heaven! So much so, I didn't even give much thought to what was going to happen in, oh, say, about 30 seconds.

When I try to convince a girlfriend to swallow, let's be clear: I know what I'm asking. I know what my own jizz tastes like. I wouldn't exactly try to make a meal of it, but it's not like I'm asking her to drink castor oil.

I was pretty surprised that first time. I had no idea it would be salty. I actually had no real ideas at all-- sex-ed wasn't a very comprehensive class in the Bible Belt. But that all said, I swallowed like a champ. Or, at least, what I expected a champ would do in the same situation. And while it wasn't sweet as candy, it didn't make me gag, either.

Over time, I managed to even get an inch or so past the head. But that was the best I could do. Still, I can't really complain. Nowadays, I'm not as young and not as flexible. I have a spare tire around my waist that gets in the way. It wasn't until I was in my late-20's that I had a partner who told me flat-out that I was well-above-average in both length and girth. When I finally confessed my early achievements to her, she had no trouble believing it because, as she put it, "God covered half the distance for you, already." Unfortunately for her, I was already too out of shape to demonstrate for her. She was dying to see that.

Maybe, when I get to my target weight, I'll look her up.