Saturday, September 3, 2016

Blue balls?

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

Pool house

Legs left this morning for a week-long business trip. I'm not terribly happy about this, because I didn't get to do her before she left.

Let me rewind a bit. Since my last post, "Limp," things generally picked up for me in the bedroom. I didn't have a repeat of the deflation in May, and in June my libido surged back, relatively speaking. Not to the level it was before I started taking bupropion, but spontaneous erections started appearing again. And Legs, happily, didn't let many of them go to waste. But once July rolled around, I dropped off a cliff. No desire, no erections, and Legs resorted to ambushing me several times to keep her pussy happy. Which brings us to a couple nights ago. Out of the blue, I wanted her. This was happy news for me, because I'd been close to six weeks since I'd had any stirrings. Unfortunately, Legs was coming off a several back-to-back hard days of work, and was exhausted. She was out before I could even get in a quickie. The next night the reverse happened--long business road trip for me, and exhaustion when I got home. I could've gotten going with a little encouragement from her, but she knew I was wiped out and let me crash. So now I have a week of waiting for her to return to me before we exchange bodily fluids once again.

Lest this occasional and intermittent blog only consist of woe and despair, let me share with you Legs' ambush from last week. We were both floating in the pool, her on a inflatable chair with a spill proof cup of pinot grigio, wearing a turquoise one-piece that showed off her legs. I was just back floating, relaxing, a glass of rum and Coke nearby. We're chatting idly about this and that, when she unexpectedly slides her legs up against mine. "Wanna go to the pool house?" she asks casually. Understand this about Legs--that wasn't a casual request. What she really said was "I'm going to fuck you now, and you don't get any say in the matter."

I followed her into the pool house, and locked the door behind me. There's a wide-open window where passers-by could look in and see everything, but Legs ignores it. Doesn't bother to pull the shade. She turns to face me, deliberately peeling down the turquoise one-piece to free her lovely, full, D-cup breasts. Believe it or not, they were perky C-cups when we first started seeing each other, but they've grown over the years. I don't know if this is common among women or a fluke of nature, but I'm not complaining. She slips the suit off her hips, revealing her tightly trimmed pubic wedge. I'm halfway hard before I'm out of my wet trunks. Still dripping, she flips the pillows off the bed then pushes me back. She straddles me a moment later, wrapping her fingers around my cock and stroking me until she decides I'm hard enough. Then she slips the head of my cock between her pussy lips and forces herself down on me.

The thing about fucking in pools is, that while erotic and sexy, it's not entirely comfortable. Or practical. It washes all the pussy juice away, so that there's intermittent lubrication at best. Now, Legs was still pool-wet, but not pussy-wet. Her labia wrapped around my cock, unyielding. Normally, we'd back off then, and I'd finger her or eat her until she was nice and wet and friction no longer a problem. Not this time. Legs ground herself onto me, thrusting her hips in hard, continuous, forceful jerks. I have to be honest--it hurt. I can only imagine how uncomfortable it was for her. But I knew what she was doing, and so did she. Each thrust took me incrementally deeper into her until suddenly Legs' pussy opened up and swallowed all of my cock in one go. She lifted up, and my dripping cock slathered her pussy lips in slipper slippery juice. Legs didn't let up. She thrust hard and fast onto me, her breathing growing ragged. I took her left breast in my mouth, licking and sucking the nipple as hardened. I grabbed her right ass cheek, digging my fingers in and adding my force to her thrusts. She gasped and shuddered, and her pussy tightened around my cock. She slowed, her thrusts deep but jerky, milking every ounce of pleasure from her orgasm. The she rolled off of me, spreading her legs.

I hooked my arms under her knees and around her thighs, pulling Legs to the edge of the bed. Holding her there, I slid my cock into her pussy. Thrusting slowly, I held up each leg in turn, kissing her arches, ankles and calves. Looking down, I watched my cock slide in and out, in and out. Rhythmically, hypnotically. Eyes closed, arms crossed above her head, Legs lay there smiling, head turned to the side as her breasts gently rocked to and from in time with my thrusting. Words cannot express how much I love this position. I get to see all of her, fondle her legs and watch as I enter her over and over and over. I'm very visual, I could go on this way for hours. Alas, Legs can't. If I take too long, she starts to hurt. And as amazing as this position is, I'm not progressing. With some regret, I pull out.

Legs rolls onto her knees, presenting herself to me, her pussy open and inviting. I climb behind her, grasping her hips, and slide in. Good lord! She's hyper-wet, like her pussy was trying to compensate for all the juice washed away by the pool. She's so wet there's next to no friction, no sensation. I pull out, and run my hand along my cock, squeezing all the wet, wet juice off it before smearing it across her ass. I go in again. Better, but still to wet. I wipe on her ass again, which is now pretty slippery. Her pussy squeezes me as I go in again. Perfect. I grab her ankles as I thrust, leaning back to watch my cock go in and out, faster and faster. Her pussy juice is running down the inside of her thighs, down my cock and dripping from my balls. I feel the eruption building. I release her ankles and grab Legs' ass, shoving her onto me as I come in her deeply. And I keep coming--we'd gone more than a week, and I feel the come gushing out of me, burst after burst, like it's trying to equal her wetness. I give one last shudder, and Legs squeezes my cock as I pull out, milking me fore the last drops of come. Then the little, pale trickle turns into an ivory waterfall spilling out of her pussy, splashing down her thighs to make a thick pool on the already-soaked sheets. Then Legs, with a sly grin, slipped back into her one-piece, and a minute later was back in the pool, finishing the last of her pinot grigio.

(Image source: The Wolf and the Owl via Lady Cheeky.)

Saturday, April 16, 2016

Limp

I hate being betrayed by my own body. Since I last wrote (and it's been a while), Legs and I have fallen into a predictable pattern with our sex life. Hot as she is, her libido's never been in sync with mine, so my general lack of desire isn't a huge problem for her. Most Friday mornings I get the funtime fuck from her before heading off to work, whether I want to or not. That might be a little misleading, because as soon as I'm in her, there's no problem with desire. It's rare for her to play along, so every other week or so she'll ask (or not ask as the case may be) if I'll do her. Again, I will whether I want to or not, because once we get going I will want to. And every few weeks I'll get an unexpected surge of desire as well, and legs is usually willing to accommodate.

So when our scheduled Friday funtime fuck disrupted, as it was yesterday, it's a pretty big downer. I psyche myself up by looking forward to it all week, and it pretty much every Friday is great, because how could it not be, starting off with a Legs-induced orgasm? But she had an early appointment and couldn't work me in, so to speak. Instead, we'd catch up that evening with a mutual funtime. It's disappointing to miss the morning fun, but it gave me something to look forward to. Legs too, apparently, because she was as wet as I was hard, so we dispensed with the foreplay and got down to business.

Legs is an ass woman. She doesn't do anal, but loves to be taken from behind--spooned, doggy--so that I can fondle her ass and thrust deep. The problem here is that she can't come that way, she needs clitoral stimulation. When she pushes me from between her legs, rolls over and presents her ass to me, I don't hesitate. I grab her hips and pull her to side of the bed, her knees perched on the edge, ass and pussy hanging there in the open waiting for me to dive in. This is a favorite we often forget about, if that makes sense. It gives me one hand free to play with her ass and the other free to reach under and play with her clit while my cock works as rough or a gentle as she wants. It wasn't long before she gasped and shuddered, grinding herself against me as she came hard in several waves. Then it was my turn... but I fell out. Frustrated--because when you feel you're almost to the point of no return, distractions like that aren't welcome. I grabbed myself to ease it back in, but it wouldn't go. Horrified, I felt my cock deflating in my hand. No! No! No! I squeezed the base, forcing blood into the head to make it bard enough to push back in, but no, it wouldn't.

"What's the matter?" Legs asked, realizing something was awry.

"It's gone," I said. "Shit, I lost it."

"Are you sure? Do you want to try some more?"

"No, it's gone. It's not going to happen." In a matter of seconds, not only had my cock gone soft, it'd done a damn good impression of diving into a pool of ice water.

"That's okay. These things happen," she reassured me before slipping off to the bathroom. And she was right. This has happened before, but not for years. And not in such spectacular fashion. The times before, I'd had trouble getting an erection at all and keeping it was the challenge. Getting this one hadn't been a problem at all. This time, the sex had been pretty darn intense, and I damn well wanted to come in her. Legs had gotten the benefit of orgasmic release, though, and was asleep inside of five minutes. I didn't get that release, yet had been wound up pretty tightly by our passion. Despite being quite tired, I lingered, awake until after two a.m. I thought about trying to jack off, but my cock was lifeless, not responding to exploratory prodding. Want to hear what's worse? This evening in the shower I thought I'd finish what was started. I got hard easily enough, but after a couple of minutes, poof! down it went again. The past couple of years it's been my desire that's been stuck in neutral, but I've taken comfort in knowing I could get it up whenever need be. Hopefully, this is just a fleeting issue. I'm not sure what's going on, but I'm not happy about it. Not happy at all.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

After long absence

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

Ankles and ass

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

Nightmare

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

TMI Tuesday

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.