Month: January 2013

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Not horny

This morning I was feeling it big time. From the second I woke up (really, from the second the lights went out the night before). I would say “horny” but, as I was thinking about how I’d describe what I was feeling, I came to the realization that “horny,” as a word, sucks.

The thing is, it’s too tactical. Too in the moment. It’s transitory. What I feel isn’t transitory. It comes and goes (really, waxes and wanes, swells and subsides), but it’s not insistent. It’s not the kind of thing a regular guy would feel which would make him jump his bed partner or, if that was unsuccessful, go rub one out. I don’t do that. The end of horny is orgasm and I rarely (and even more rarely soon) do that. 

But I don’t know what word to use instead. I’m not sure we have a word for what guys who are not allowed to orgasm feel. Yes, horny, but so much more. So much deeper. This morning, I was dressed to go run in my shorts and had not yet put my track pants over them (since it’s freaking cold here and while I run on the treadmill in my shorts, I don’t get from my door to my truck to the gym in them). I hopped up on the kitchen counter and watched Belle make another cup of coffee and she came and stood between my legs and ran her hand up my thigh and under the flimsy running short material. I dropped my face into her neck and smelled her and whimpered. Then, as I was about to leave, I went into the bathroom where Belle was applying her makeup to give her a kiss. Her lips were full and plump and tasted of sweet coffee and I kept kissing her and pressed my body against the length of hers and wrapped one knee behind her where I also slipped my hand so I could finger the cleft above her ass and I just kissed and kissed her and felt a swelling both physically in the device but also emotionally in my chest. I left weak-kneed and light-headed. I fucking wanted  her. I wanted to feel her hot, wet snatch and suck her tits and hear her ragged breathing and tense up as she did and feel my own pale reflection of her release as she arched her back and came under my fingertips. How does “horny” capture that?

Being horny is about craving the thing that makes you not horny. I crave that on some level, but more than that I crave the craving. I crave the feeling that sinks its structural elements and builds a foundation on “horny.” The thing I don’t have a word for. The thing that makes me love being essentially orgasmless.

Yeah, I need a new word.

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A couple of unrelated things

First thing…

I had a weird dream last night. I don’t often have sexual dreams, even in my denied state, but this one was. I was at some office or meeting place or something with this other guy. I knew who he was (we had come together) but he wasn’t anyone I know in real life. The people we were there to meet never showed up or were late or something and next thing I knew he was unzipping his pants and shoving my face into his crotch. This didn’t seem strange to me in the dream but I know it wasn’t a common occurrence in the dream world since I was pleasantly surprised to find his dick was on the large side. After I started sucking him off, I found myself naked but never actually got undressed (you know how it is in dreams). The dude I was blowing was fully clothed which had me in that awkward spot of being the only locked-up naked dude giving blow jobs in the conference room (not again) and, of course, the door was open. I think I saw a secretary or something sitting outside in plain view of what was going on. He kept trying to reach down and grab the penis on me but it was locked (in a CB-6000, oddly) and I was trying to hide that fact and keep him from finding it out, but he eventually did get his hand on it. I could feel the heat on my face as I blushed but I kept sucking him. He didn’t say anything. Somehow, I knew he expected to find it that way. Then he started to shoot his load with his cock shoved deep down my throat so that I swallowed it all but didn’t get to taste any of it, but my gag reflex must not exist in dream world since there was none of that. And then the dream ended.

Second thing…

I was in the gym with the trainer dude the other morning and he was having me do bench presses on the Smith Machine, but these weren’t normal presses. He wanted me to push the bar off my chest and toss it up away from myself and catch it on the way down (on a Smith, the bar is on rails so it wouldn’t have gone flying across the room or anything). I had never done this before and while it seemed perfectly safe, I put the safety stops up so that on the odd chance I missed or couldn’t hold the bar, it wouldn’t land on my chest and crush my ribcage. That’d suck.

Anyway, the thing about weight training with another guy is whenever you do something like that, you get shit for it. Like how I wear gloves to work out in because I don’t have nasty callouses on my hands or put the pad on the bar when I do squats so it doesn’t press directly onto my spine. But, you know. It’s all in good fun. Or something.

So yeah, I put the stop in and the trainer dude gives me shit. Something like, “Oh, you need some protection or something? Is that like your chastity device?”

I shit you not. He says this (or something very close to it). And I think a couple of things at once. First, what the fuck sense does that make? How do you go from the built-in safety feature on a weight machine to a chastity device? Second, even with my odd bulges and weird muffled clanking, he’s obviously not ever caught on because then he said…

“You know what a chastity device is, don’t you? You know what it’s used for?” in a tone like he’s telling me some kind of clever dirty joke or something.

“Yeah, I got a pretty good idea what it is.”

You might think that was some kind of passive-aggressive way of him saying to me he had caught on at some point, but trust me, he hasn’t. No clue.

In any event, I did the weird presses just fine. No crushed bones or anything.

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Visions of suger-pegs danced in my head…

And so begins 2013. Four days from my first orgasm in six months and what will likely be the only one I’ll have all year long. The thought of it is enough, on occasion, to make my balls tingle. I admit, there’s a part of me that wants it and gets excited thinking about it happening. But there’s a larger part of me excited by the prospect that it will be a singular event, at least until the big ball drops again.

I had another bought of denial insomnia the other night. Wound have been handier on New Year’s Eve, but it came the night before, meaning I couldn’t stay up until midnight and welcome in the new year. I wasn’t up all night this time. Can’t be sure when I finally fell asleep since I was purposefully avoiding seeing what time it was, but I expect it was at least three or four in the morning. The issue this time had nothing to do with Belle. I wasn’t sleepy when she went to bed so I bounced around on my phone for a bit and eventually found myself reading porn and that was it. Try as I did to keep the thoughts from my hormone-addled brain, they’d come. The device was especially present in my mind. I’d lay on my side and I’d feel it’s heft pull on my nutsack. I’d lay on my stomach and feel the plug push even more deeply into me. Then it’d try to get hard and there’d be squeezing. Then I’d try to think about something else. Repeat. Ugh.

I finally drifted off fantasizing about being pegged by Belle. This isn’t something she’s offered or even shown the slightest interest in, but I focused on how one would design a dildo so that it could be worn by a woman and still give her some clitoral feedback from her effort. I know such things exist, but working on ideas like this in my head helps me get to sleep sometimes. There are few more intimate acts than being fucked. Pegging, while a very hot concept for me, would seem like prostate-centric kabuki if there wasn’t anything in it for the pegger. So I pondered that and how it’d work and how wonderful it’d be to know she was pleasuring herself while penetrating me and actually coming from fucking me and…and…what do you know. I fell asleep.

In any event, in my head, I imagined something very much like this.