Thirty

It’s been thirty days since my last orgasm. If you’re like me, you probably find the constant number-keeping of a lot of denied male bloggers pedantic, but it’s different when it’s your number-keeping. Then, it’s fascinating.

One solid month is a milestone I feel like we’ve been working toward this entire past year. I guess I always imagined I’d be super horny at this point, but in reality, I was way hornier at two weeks. If anything, I think my frustration is diminishing, not increasing. At least as a general background noise type of thing. I still find myself overcome with vivid moments during the day and can be turned on easier than a table lamp, but I’m not quite as frenetic about it all.

Now that I’m out of the device, I tend to get hard a lot more, especially when I’m with Belle. I went to sleep last night hard, woke up several times hard, and spooned into her this morning after the alarm hard. Hard hard hard, all the time it seems. The device does provide feedback to my body that makes erections less frequent and shorter in duration. Once it gets out, it pops up more frequently than that kid’s hand in the front row who knows the answer to every question.

While laying in bad last night, I observed to Belle that it had been a while since her last orgasm. I’m not sure why I said it and, in retrospect, I guess I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t trying to ask for sex and didn’t think at the time that I was, but it’s so obviously what I was doing. She said she was very stressed at work and that made it hard for her to want sex and that she knew it was hard for me to understand that. For me, stress at work leads to an increase in sexual appetite as a method to take my mind off it, but Belle (and maybe all women for all I know) is wired differently.

In any event, she told me my comment made her feel stressed out and guilty. Then I felt stressed out and guilty. I was wrong for bringing it up and I apologized. She said it made her think she was “doing it” wrong and I assured her I thought she was doing it just fine (I’m not sure there’s a one way to do this kind of thing). I felt like a jerk for bringing it up.

So I said to her that I was willing to ceded the last vestige of influence I had over our sex life. In our Covenant, it says I’m allowed to ask for sex once, but I told her I was willing to never be the one to bring up the subject at all. In effect, removing from the equation any and all verbal instigation on my part. Since my sex belongs to her and is for her anyway, I would become totally captive to her desires and, to the best of my ability, hold mine inside and just wait. She said she wants to think about it, but in the mean time I will endeavor to live what I offered. I won’t be suggesting, directly or through inference, that we should have sex until she says otherwise.

Which leads back the hard cock. Obviously, I can’t control that. I’m next to her, I get hard. I spoon into her, I get hard. It’s very noticeable. The only way to control that is to lock it up. As I said, it tends to get hard less often that way, and beside, nine times out of ten, she can’t even tell what its state is in there. This morning, I told her I didn’t want my erect state to cause her any stress. I can imagine that a hard cock pressing into her might send the same signal as me saying, “Hey, wanna fuck?”, but I really don’t want her to read it that way. I’d rather she interpret the hard cock as a sign of my devotion to her and my commitment to our dynamic. I’m hard because I don’t control my own orgasm. I don’t control my orgasm because I gave it to her. I gave it to her because I love her. Honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.