Belle surprised me this morning with permission to come. She had previously told me I’d have to wait until she got back from overseas, which would have put me at a minimum of 16 days, but I guess a combination of my plaintive, horny eyes and a fit of New Year’s generosity moved her to allow me to climax. It’s only been about six days since the last one, but that was coming off nearly three weeks between events and I can’t say I felt fully satisfied from it. I was very horny this morning – more than a six day denial should have made me. Based on comments from Tom and Eileen, this is apparently normal. Finally! I’m normal!!
In any event, Belle took me by surprise. All I wanted was to fuck her. She told me when I started that I’d get to come after her orgasm but, following her climax, I found that I couldn’t come. I tried and tried, but eventually had to roll off and stroke myself to stay hard. My feeling is that I’ve totally separated the need to come to climax from the act of intercourse. Truth is, after Belle came, I felt a kind of sexual satisfaction. Yeah, I was hard and turned-on, but I really didn’t need more than the reflected heat of her pleasure. This is totally different than the dopey lethargy of post-ejaculation satisfaction, but just as meaningful for me. I think, since I assumed I was not going to come, I had approached our sex with a different headspace – that of the denied male. Suddenly, I found myself staring down the barrel of my own orgasm and I blinked.
Belle was very supportive after I rolled off in defeat. While I stroked myself, she kissed me, pinched my nipples, and squeezed my balls. After a little while, I got back in the saddle and finally came. I had to be quiet since the kids were both up, but had I my druthers, I would have been screaming. It was a good thing.
We’ve been fooling around with orgasm denial for about three months now, but I felt today was a milestone. Sex and orgasm, for me, have been fully decoupled. It’s like I have two ways to make love to my wife now. The first, much more common method, is primarily about giving her pleasure. The pleasure I receive is hers reflected back on me, plus the hormonal rush of sexual frustration. The second way, of course, is where I also get to come, but it seems I need to know it’s allowable to get there in a good way. If I think back, this is how it’s felt for a while but I’m only just now realizing it. Those times she’s “sprung” an opportunity for emission on me have always been more difficult (and maybe even a little less satisfying) than those I knew were coming. I think this is all about how I approach the sex and which of the two methods I bring to the event.
This all kind of segues into a conversation we had a few nights ago. Now that we’re starting a new year, I’ve been thinking about how many times I might come in twelve months. In no way am I trying to usurp her authority over this, but I told her I’d be very happy with something between 18 and 20 orgasms in 2009. In a perfect world, she’d keep me off balance and not parcel them out in a nice evenly distributed pattern. Maybe two or three in a week and then nothing for at least month. Something like that. In any event, we seem to be thinking along the same lines.
I have no idea how many times the average 40-year-old male jacks off, but I’d guess I was doing it about two or three times a week, more or less. That’s about a 140-events-per-year pace. Now, I’m looking at something less than 15% of that over the next twelve months. In fact, it’s likely that Belle will orgasm seven times more often than me in 2009. I am overjoyed at the prospect.
The mind is a very strange instrument of manipulation. I had a somewhat similar experience. I was horny enough such that I could have orgasmed if she said, “Do it.” This time she chose to go first. After several of her “little deaths” achieved through my well educated tongue she generously allowed me to have my way in the traditional manner. I was in heaven. But after a few minutes I realized that I failed. I was still horny, but something was missing.
What I concluded since then, is that her being totally satisfied gives me a tremendous thrill, satisfaction, and somehow resets my trigger to where I would need another buildup. Just as if I had an orgasm, only better.
I am not saying that I could not have gotten off if she chose to pleasure me herself. She always has her way with me, and I am chump who just cannot resist. But she left it entirely up to me, and it did not work. I am sure that it was all in my mind.
There’s something to that. I feel as though I’ve been conditioned now to somehow substitute her orgasms for mine. Not always, but more often than not, all I want is to feel her come. I’ve completely accepted and found a way to live with the fact that I will not orgasm when we have sex, most of the time.