Saturday, September 3, 2016
When I was a teenager and first started dating, I got the most unbelievably painful cases of blue balls ever. Not that I'd ever heard that term or really understood all guys experienced this to one degree or another. If I was lucky enough for a girl to agree to spend time with me, hell, I'd get rock hard hours before the date in anticipation and stand at attention throughout, just in case she wanted to go out for more than just dinner and a movie. Of course, 95% of the time things never progressed farther than a kiss. I was painfully self-conscious, and desperate not to make a mistake that might offend her. Which meant that I never made any moves, and rarely had second dates. I was awkward and boring. But OH! how I hurt afterwards--barely able to walk. Jacking off afterward for relief was almost as bad, because ejaculation felt like a kick in the balls. After high school, I got much better at reading women's signals (thank goodness!) and discomfort quickly became a non-issue. I bring this up because until this past year, I'd not thought about blue balls since then (where the hell did that name come from anyway? I'm pretty darn sure I've never witnessed any color change). I'd also assumed the pain was a result of prolonged erections--one of the reasons why priapism is such a burden to those who suffer from that condition. But I've come to realized blue balls can result from prolonged periods of no erections as well. My recent bout of depressed libido has resulted in Legs and myself going two weeks at a stretch without any kind of sex. That's partly because of her busy schedule but mostly my lack of desire. After about five days, I've noticed a deep ache that's mild at first, but grows progressively stronger each day I ignore it. All this time, I'll not have even a hint of an erection--not even the ubiquitous "morning wood." Eventually it'll hurt enough that I have to deal with it, either solo or with Legs. And damn if ejaculation doesn't feel like a kick in the balls. Fortunately, my libido is showing signs of emerging from its recent dormancy, so this particular problem shouldn't be an issue for the near future. But still, how fucked up is it that lack of libido can lead to blue balls? I tell you, getting old sucks in all kinds of ways I never fathomed.
Tuesday, August 9, 2016
The Wolf and the Owl via Lady Cheeky.)
Saturday, April 16, 2016
Thursday, September 17, 2015
It's hard to believe it's been nine months since I last checked in, and that this is my first post in all of 2015. That's profoundly frustrating, especially since I expected to post every few days back when I first set up this blog. In the intervening months, my libido has become significantly more obscura. I'm not sure why, but the bupropion side effects have turned it up to eleven. I can't pinpoint when this exactly happened, but I strongly suspect the advent of summer is a contributing factor. For a number of reasons I won't go into here, my Friday morning fucks with Legs went on hold. Mentally, I always looked forward to them but physically my body was blase until my semi-flaccid cock is rubbing against her labia. I grows steadily firmer until I can force it in, and then it's off to the races. Lustful desire is absolutely not a problem once I'm inside her, but otherwise, meh. I believe those regular Fridays stimulated my body chemistry in such a way that prevented my libido from flat lining entirely. When those Friday rendezvous ended, so did the last vestiges of my desire. June through August, we only averaged 2-3 times a month, and went close to five weeks once before Legs forced me down on the couch one afternoon, pulled down my pants and rode me hard and fast. Sadly, I didn't come, and went limp immediately following her orgasm. I can't blame it all on summer, however. Looking at my calendar (yes, I've been keeping track since going on bupropion) I see that we only did it on Fridays through the month of May. So something was up even then. It's not like I don't think about sex. I do think about it, maybe not as much as I did two years ago, but it's still one of my favorite subjects. But only rarely do I get excited by my own daydreams, and erections simply don't happen on their own. I doesn't help much that Legs' own libido has always been an order of magnitude below mine. I've always teased her that sexually, she's got a body like a Ferrari that she only ever drives around the block a couple times a month. Rarely does she venture onto the open road and just turn it loose. But at least she still likes those trips around the block, otherwise we wouldn't even have had those few times this summer that we did. The thing is, sex just doesn't seem worth the effort anymore. Today was one of the rare days where I didn't have to go in to work, and a couple of times throughout the day, as she took a break from her work, I thought "This would be a good time to rip off her clothes." Goodness knows she wouldn't have objected. But that would've involved me stopping what I was doing, getting up and going across the house, then actually undressing her... it just seemed like too much work. Crazy, right? So I've spoken with my physician, and we've cut my bupropion prescription by a third. That's been a month now, and I haven't felt any kind of return of the dysphoria that was the cause of all this in the first place. But I haven't felt any kind of return of my libido, either. In a few months, if I maintain stability with the current reduced dosage, we'll reduce it again. Eventually, if all goes well, I can get off it entirely. Or my libido returns, whichever comes first. Oh, and our Friday Funtime is back. Maybe having Legs' magic pussy jump-starting my cock every Friday will be the boost I need to carry me into the following week. I certainly hope so, because I sincerely miss having desire.
Monday, December 29, 2014
I'm still here, still wrestling with bupropion. The drug has definitely boosted my quality of, and outlook on, life, but my libido's yet to fully overcome its unexpected cock-blocking effect. I've been on the stuff for more than a year now, and despite an increase in dosage toward the end of summer, my body's settled into something of a equilibrium with it. I don't get spontaneous erections unless Legs and I go for a week or more without sex, but if she (or we) wants to do something, it only takes a few minutes of her attentions to get me hard. This sure as hell beats going limp in the middle of the act, as happened a few times early on. Once I'm hard, I can happily keep it up through whatever positions Legs wants until she's come to her satisfaction. Then we focus on my orgasm. Sadly, her and my orgasms have become two separate issues. The bupropion has desensitized me to a certain extent, and I'm not sure if this is unique to me or that I just wasn't paying attention before. I cannot come in the missionary position. Well, I can, but it is the opposite of satisfying. It takes a long time--a long time, thrusting to the point where Legs is uncomfortable and/or impatient, then pop, fizzle, a little semen and I go limp. No great convulsions of pleasure, no electrical orgasmic jolt. Just an overwhelming sense of a missed opportunity. This is troubling because despite its mundane reputation, I like missionary with Legs. I love watching her face as I thrust in her, her breasts bounce, her long legs wrap themselves around me, her long fingers play with my nipples... There's an interaction there that I love when coupled with an actual orgasm, but leaves me unfulfilled when all I manage is a half-hearted spurt. I imagine this is what premature ejaculation is like, except for the fact that there's some intensity behind that. Our solution? Doggy style. Almost exclusively. We'll do whatever she is in the mood for, from whatever angle pushes her particular buttons at the time, but once Legs has come I'll pull out and she'll get onto her knees, presenting her lovely ass to me. I position the head of my cock against her labia, and Legs slides herself onto me (I don't know why, but I find that incredibly erotic--she's finished herself, but still actively working to make me come. I know that's not unusual between lovers, but I find it hot nonetheless). From then on, it's off to the races. When I fuck Legs that way--fondling her beautiful, firm ass, her pussy squeezing and sucking on my cock, I have explosive, convulsive, shoot-my-balls-out-through-my-cock orgasms. Why? I don't know. My orgasms have always been consistent no matter the position, but since I've been on the medication that's not been the case. Only by taking her from behind do I still get to enjoy those powerful, satisfying orgasms, and I come quickly, too. I'm guessing that the angles and pressures of my cock in her pussy are more directly stimulating from behind than with missionary or other positions, but that's hardly scientific. Do any other men or women have the same experience? It's not like I have a close circle of friends to compare notes with.
Fucking Legs from behind for the better part of the year has led to an enabling of sorts for my leg fetish. The gif (quite a hot gif, I must say) above gives a little hint. It started by accident, by impulse. Thrusting inside her, fondling her ass wasn't enough. I needed more. I ran my hands up and down the backs of her thighs, and found I could do this without breaking rhythm. So I continued on to her calves, then found her ankles. Oh my. I wrapped my hands around each ankle and pulled up, pressing her heels into the sides of my thigh. Legs gasped at the unexpected move, balancing on her knees as I pumped into her faster and harder. I loosened my grip slightly and slid my little finger across her arch, then her toes, and she simultaneously squeezed my finger with her toes and my cock with her pussy. My excitement skyrocketed. It's one thing to do Legs with my hands on her hips, pulling her to me with each thrust, and quite another to hold her legs to my thighs, my cock and her pussy going at it without any other intervening body parts! Over the past few months this has become more and more my thing, and when I come with Legs it's ass and ankles more often than not.
I imagine that comes off a mildly weird--I'd expect it to, since various Google searches didn't turn up anything matching this particular obsession of mine (which is really freaking, considering how many bizarre variations did turn up). The gif above is one of the few images that comes close to matching my own particular kink, but to get maximum pleasure, the guy should be holding both ankles with a much firmer grip!
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
I had a nightmare last night. One of those hyper-real dreams that leave you confused when you finally awake and stick with you persistently as false memories. I rarely have nightmares, but when I do, it's invariably the hyper-real variety. And I hate them with a passion. Legs left me in the dream. Boom, out of the blue. She'd found someone new. She hadn't planned on it, hadn't expected it, but it happened and she was fine with that. To say I was shocked, stunned, devastated is an understatement. "How long?" I'd asked. "Six months," she answered. "The surprising thing is how easy it was to keep it from you." We met twice in the dream, first for the terrible revelation and then again for a final, chance encounter at the home we'd shared. As dream logic goes, I knew this was the last time she and I would ever be alone together. She was uncomfortable being so near to me--not because she feared or despised me, but because of the guilt my presence evoked. I can't remember the conversation we had, but it was a sad, wounded thing. What stood out the most was her dispassion toward me. She no longer felt any love for me, that was clear. But she bore me no animosity, either. My love for her was irrelevant. She'd made her decision, and I just happened to be collateral damage. I could keep the house, she said, if I bought out her share. If not, we'd sell and split the proceeds. She'd already moved in with the new guy, so it made no difference to her. Cold. Her last words to me: "Don't make this any worse than it has to be." I awoke at 2 a.m., trembling with my heart racing. Legs slept on beside me. It took me quite a while to calm back down, convince myself it was only a dream and go back to sleep. When I recounted the dream to Legs this morning, she winced at those last words. "I suppose you're going to be angry with me for the rest of the day because of that dream?" she asked. It's something of a running joke between us that she holds me responsible for unpleasant things her subconscious has me do in her dreams (which happens with surprising frequency). I was still too shaken for a witty comeback. In truth, the echos of that crushing emptiness are still with me. Even though I know them for the lies they are, they feel real. I don't quite know what triggered that particular dream. In close to two decades together, we've had a few big fights and countless petty squabbles but nothing serious enough to separate us. If I put myself on the therapist's couch, I'd say insecurity about my dramatically diminished libido (as a result of my bupropion prescriptio) is the root cause. While that's certainly a contributing factor (in the dream, Legs and her new man had taken delight in fucking for hours on a daily basis after I'd left for work), the truth is that Legs has made not secret of the fact that she's happy with the current state of affairs. Despite her hot body, her libido's always runs several gears slower than mine, and she likes having my cock when she's craving it and not the other way around. She and I have been together a long time, and I can honestly say I'm more attracted to her now than I've ever been. Until now, though, I don't think I'd quite realized just how indispensable she is to me.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
I shave my penis. That's not something I've ever intended to share, but then I thought, what's the point of having an anonymous sex blog if I don't weird people out on occasion? But it's true. I shave my cock. I don't think even Legs knows this, although I've never tried to keep it a secret from her. See, hair grows up the sides and underside of my shaft, 2, maybe three inches along my length. Not fine down, mind you, but coarse pubic hair. Left alone, I swear my cock grows sideburns. Years and years ago, as a newly-minted non-virgin, I dated a woman, Cheryl, off and on for some months. Invariably, after a night of passion, we'd both end up raw and hurting, baffled as to why. It wasn't until much later that I realized it was the pubic hair on my shaft tangling with hers to cause the chafing. So I started shaving, thinking at the time that doing so was as weird as you are probably thinking right now. Weird, yes, but I've never chafed since.