Month: December 2011

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In it for the want

I go back in tomorrow. Belle told me on Friday, so that’s a month out and nine (so far) orgasms.

She observed last night over dinner that I didn’t seem to like being out as much as I like being in. It’s true. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed the orgasms Belle’s let me have (especially the last couple), and being able to feel the penis whenever I want has been nice (as has been the uninterrupted sleep). But that’s not how I’m wired anymore. Now, I’m in it for the want. For the not having. For the everything but.

Over the past month, I have had periods of feeling desire and frustration, but they’ve been short-lived. A few days at most before Belle and I fucked or she let me take care of myself (only two of the nine have been by my own hand, thought I might get another that way before tomorrow). Yesterday morning, she woke me up by stroking the peachy fuzz on my ass where its cheeks and my legs come together. I rolled over a bit and she fiddled with the penis. One thing led to another and soon she was coming hard on my fingers. The penis was as stiff as it gets and I was cleaving to her side in a very familiar way, surging with the need to fuck her. I knew it was going to happen, but at least as much of me wanted it not to. For her to leave me that way. She didn’t and I came really well.

There must be a term or set of words to describe this feeling. When one decides they don’t actually prefer the destination as much as the travel. The unending trip to the mall looking for the unfindable perfect ski jacket. Traipsing through the woods with your rifle and never finding a deer. Forever connecting though airports and never arriving to the vacation. I guess that’s me now.

Sitting here at the fulcrum point between the ebb and flow of my own sexual desire, I can say with all honesty that she could never let me come again and I’d be OK with it. More than OK.

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Four after ninety-nine

I’ve started this post like three times. When it comes to writing for my blog, my muse is my frustration.

So, yeah, she let me come. Two times in each of the last two weekends. I know I reported here before that she was going to let me do essentially whatever I wanted to do with the penis, but the rubber’s hit the road and she’s told me I can’t come without her being present.

And, honestly, I’m perfectly happy with that. In fact, the other night I was begging her never to let me come without her again. She cautioned me to think about what I was asking for, but I was all rapturous and liked how her hand felt around the very stiff meat and maybe wasn’t thinking too terribly deeply about what I was saying. Regardless, I meant it (and still do).

Therefore, I am not, at the moment, Thumper denied. I am at best Thumper restricted. I can pleasure myself and fiddle around with the penis but orgasm can only happen when I’m with Belle. So far, that’s meant in Belle, though I don’t know for sure if that’s part of the rules I’m working under. I’d like to feel an orgasm of my own doing, but she hasn’t let me.

The orgasms she’s let me have were interesting in that they were all different. The first, after ninety-nine days of denial, really wasn’t all that good. How could it have been? It was more like sneezing after feeling one coming on for a long time but being unable to make it happen. Not so much pleasurable as it was just a release. The next day was number two and it was a little better, but still just OK. Then everything cratered. Belle went to NYC and I lost any and all interest in sex or sexual thoughts. Even this blog curdled for me. I couldn’t think about it. It embarrassed me. So I ignored it. I also sank into a shallow depression that probably wasn’t entirely driven by the sudden change in my brain chemicals but couldn’t have been helped by it. I was pretty miserable.

Then the next weekend came around and my libido stirred like a sleepy cat in a sunbeam. I came twice more and cratered again, but only briefly. At least these two orgasms were pleasurable. By Wednesday, I was feeling horny again (which was quite the rebound). It’s amazing how low I go now after I come. My sex drive doesn’t just drop to zero, it goes into negative numbers. It creates a vacuum.

Yeah, so anyway, this shift in the rules isn’t at all what I thought it’d be. I’m very happy to find I’m not entirely free to do as I please because I don’t ever want to live like that again. I’m also pleased that Belle seems to be getting whatever she wanted out this little experiment. I’m sure she’s missed getting fucked by an apparently normal male and I’m also sure a girl likes her guy to squirt inside her every once in a while. But, if I’m honest, I’m also looking forward to the day we can go back to “normal”. After two weeks, I still can’t get used to this squishy floppy bit of meat between my legs. It’s just not right. (The DCR, BTW, hasn’t been on that much. Belle hasn’t wanted me to wear it.) And while I like the idea of coming, the aftermath turns me off (literally and figuratively). I’m actually kind of afraid of it.

I don’t know. I’ve been so far away from normal for so long now that even this not normal approximation of normal leaves me feeling off kilter. I’m still controlled and there are still rules and I like that, but it’s not the same. I’m not complete without that steel tube. I miss its company and crave its confinement. I want to see my reflection looking up from my crotch, not a pink prick. I’ve thought of locking myself up during the day just to feel it again, but have resisted. I will remain as I am without complaint for as long as Belle wants me to, or course, though I look forward to the day she puts things back they way they should be.

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December’s come, I haven’t

You may have noticed that the entire world is now in the month of December. Even here, it’s definitely the 12th month of the year. The month in which I will have an orgasm after more than three without.

In not unrelated news, it’s remarkable to me how long I can jack off now and not come. I have become amazingly well tuned to the stages of orgasm and know within a hair’s breadth where I am from actually going over the falls and squirting all over, how long to let it chill before going back in for more, and when even breathing on the head will cause an eruption. Also, that I can essentially walk away from it even though I’m thoroughly juiced, primed, and ready to blow. “Oh, look at the time.”

The other morning, I was looking down at the penis, all greased up and nestled into my fist, and could practically see it begging me with it’s silly sideways mouth. Sometimes, jacking off is just a thing you do to another thing for a particular purpose, but other times there’s this circuit made between the cock, your hand, and your brain and they become one functioning, pumping unit looping feedback between one another. That’s what it felt like when it looked like it was begging. “Pleeeeeease!?” it seemed to be asking. But no. I was going to abide by the rules.

Perhaps Belle could sense how close it and I have become lately because last night she laid down the law. First of all, when I come, it will be in her. She wants to catch it all. Oh, and by the way, she’s on her period, so no, it won’t be for a few days. Also, I’m to stop touching the penis. No more yankie the wankie until after she says it’s time for me to come. Regarding that timing, she jets off again in a few days, so the window of opportunity will be small before then. If I have to wait until she get’s back, then it’s about a week from now. If she leaves on the trip without allowing me to come, I will beg to be locked up.

The double cock ring continues to be on me and, indeed, feels to be just as much a part of my body as the Steelheart can at times. I’ve found that the inside of the penis ring is not smooth like the rest of the device. It’s rough and somewhat unfinished feeling. Not sure if there’s a way to polish it up, but I may try and find out. It’s not a problem, but I can feel it and it bugs. Other than that, I have no complaints. Sleeping, by the way, is cake. If I happen to wake up with an erection, I can feel it filling the rings, but it doesn’t wake me up by itself.

Well, that’s about all I got. Today is ninety-eight days. Tomorrow, ninety-nine. Almost there. I hope.