That little Cupid prick

So I’m reading Cupid’s Poisoned Arrow: From Habit to Harmony in Sexual Relationships. At least, I’m trying to read it.

I picked it up (if we can call the act of downloading a book onto a Kindle app on an iPad “picking up”) because I saw a reference to an article in an old post over on Schnoff’s blog but the link’s dead now so I just went ahead and got the book.

The description on Amazon looked promising enough:

Zing! Cupid’s arrow skewers a primitive part of the brain. Obediently, we fall in love amid showers of passionate fireworks, bond for a time … and then often get fed up with each other and grow irritable or numb. Perhaps we try to remodel our mate, seek solace online, or pursue a new love interest. Ancient sages recognized this biological snare and hinted at a way to dodge it: use lovemaking to balance one another and harmony arises naturally.

With an entertaining blend of personal experiences, the latest neuroscience, and forgotten insights from around the globe, Cupid’s Poisoned Arrow confronts current assumptions about sex and love and offers a refreshing, practical approach to sexuality.

Well, promising except for the “Zing!’ part. Also, it’s super well reviewed (4.5 stars with 35 reviews). Then it says things like, “We humans are unique among mammals in that we have the capacity to comprehend our subconscious mating programming and choose to manage it consciously,” and I’m, like, yes

The basic premise of the book is that sex with orgasm is really about procreation and how we’re wired to really enjoy orgasm (for the few seconds we do) is genetic and evolutionary trickery to make us engage in orgasmic sex more often. But, we’re predisposed to find the mate we’re with less interesting over time, thanks to the drive to spread our seed as far as possible. If we want to maintain the feelings of intense affection and bonding we experience at the start of a relationship, we should not let the brain feel the hit of orgasm since that releases chemicals that eventually work to defeat the part of falling in love we like.

The neurochemical payoff at the moment of orgasm feels like it promotes bonding. Yet such bonds are more fragile than we like to admit. At climax, a neurochemical blast triggers further events for approximately two weeks. These fluctuations deep in the brain drive us toward sexual satiety and subtle changes in mood, which often create emotional friction between lovers (Cupid’s poison). Uneasiness also leaves us vulnerable to promises of quick relief—another potential mate (real or virtual) being one of the most alluring. Thus orgasm turns out to be related to making more babies and making them with more than one partner.

I can get behind this train of thought.

Thing is, as far along as I am with it, there’s just too much spiritual hoo-haw for my taste. This is, essentially, a book on Karezza with some Eastern mysticism mixed in. I’d rather read more about the brain chemistry and less about the ancient “insights from around the globe.” But that’s just the rational atheist in me talking. It’s not that I don’t find the ancient insights interesting. I do, inasmuch as it shows that people had observed the beneficial impact of avoiding orgasm during sex, even thousands of years ago.

The good part of reading it for me, so far, is that it validates so many of the things I’ve observed and experienced personally. For example, the author mentions several times the two week cycle I’ve seen in myself that follows a couple of good orgasms. It’s actually kinda nice to know that I’m not a total freak and even prehistoric Indian shamen had already figured out that not coming during sex was a good thing.

The book, being about Karezza, advocates abstinence from orgasm for both partners, not just the men. This isn’t something I’m asking Belle to do nor am I seriously considering asking her since I really, really like her orgasms and life seems to be pretty fucking good right now with her having them and me not. In fact, I’d say the author thinks orgasms are the root cause of too much that’s wrong with relationships. I get that there’s chemistry involved and orgasm and sex don’t need to necessarily follow and things can be really awesome if they’re disconnected, but she actually comes out and says at one point that if everyone practiced Karezza the net result could be world peace. No, really.

Here’s a passage where she’s realizing that maybe she needed to stop having orgasms, too, and is pondering the consequences of them:

What if some sort of perception shift resulting from orgasm also left us with feelings of lack? How might sexual hangovers manifest in women’s experience? How about all-around bitchiness? Making him wrong about everything? Reaching for antidepressants? Avoiding sex? Overeating? Excessive fondness for one’s vibrator? Feeling unable to cope? Insane jealousy? Fortune hunting? Romance novel addictions? Compulsive shopping, or even kleptomania? Tears and emotional blackmail? Neurotic, needy, controlling mothers—and wounded kids?

Again, I’m not all the way through and am hoping there’ll be more science in the book and am therefore withholding final judgement, but after reading that, I thought, “FUCK, maybe you’re just neurotic.”

Anyway, I’m not not recommending the book. I’m just not sure if I’m recommending it. As I said, jury’s out. I’ll keep reading…

Blast from the past

Back in June of 2001, Belle and I spent a few days in London. She was travelling for work to Asia and coming back through London so I met her there and we hung out. It was my first time in Europe.

I wrote up a post afterward for my blog that’s long since gone and recycled into its base electrons (and was mostly just read by my mom). I stumbled upon it today and figured it was kind of entertaining and, having nothing else to talk about really, I thought I’d share it with all of you (or at least those of you halfway interested enough to follow the jump and keep reading). Note there is nothing in it whatsoever about sex or denial or anything remotely smutty — just some observations of my very first trip to Great Britain along with a few mentions of 13-year-old current events — and the names have been changed to protect the perverted.

Continue reading “Blast from the past”

The thing about cock rings

Belle took me out of the Looker 02 the night before we left for NYC. The penis had been locked up for…god, I can’t even tell you how long. A month? At least. Maybe more. Maybe I should stop trying to remember since these periods of not being locked up are the rare exception.

Anyway, I’d been locked up for a long time. The L02 was in place for two weeks. The Trainer for about ten days before that. The Steelheart before that (and it’ll be the Steelheart again once I get home, I’d warrant). When the L02 came off, I put on a lovely little aluminum cock ring from Gear Essentials. I have a hard time now not feeling something around the penis and balls.

A couple of things about cock rings. First of all, specific to the one I’m wearing (it’s called Surge, BTW), it went through the TSA’s millimeter wave scanners without a hitch. Not sure if it’d trigger a metal detector, but the scanners didn’t seem to bother with it. Second, cock rings, while seeming to be related to other ball and cock toys like chastity devices, aren’t at all related. They’re as different as can be.

Cock rings glorify cocks. They present them. Accentuate them. Actually help to embellish them. Make them harder and stronger and altogether more impressive. Well-fitting ones can make your hard-on feel incredible. Chastity devices diminish penises. They hide them and bind them and stifle them and force their erections back down. Well-fitting ones can make your hard-on feel trapped and totally useless. They’re complete opposites.

And you’re like, OK. So?

I went from an essentially constant state where the penis was trapped in a device meant to diminish and isolate it to one meant to glorify and enhance it, literally overnight. And I wasn’t allowed to do anything about it. I couldn’t play with it. Couldn’t really admire it. Certainly couldn’t make it come. The penis loved being out and the Surge made it do just that — surge. Just tight enough that I could feel it grip in a delicious and ever so distracting way. Every erection (and there have been many) were like fantastic fireworks shows where nobody was allowed to come and watch. Or even light the fuse. A different sort of torture than chastity. Far more maddening.

Our first morning in the city found us having sex. The cock ring was doing its thing and the penis, normally on the thin side of average, felt much fatter. The heavy curved barbell ring was in the PA and, not long after we were both awake, all of them were in Belle’s pussy. The tightness of the ring made ejaculation harder so that I never leaked in her though I skirted up to the edge of orgasm several times as usual.

Fucking her from above, I wish I could have kept my shit together long enough to take her over the falls, but that wasn’t in the cards. Instead, I reached down to finger her clit while leaving about half the hard-on inside her. It took about 30 seconds to get her off this way. She couldn’t get in there to get my finger off her while she came so I was able to keep the fiery nerves burning until I thought she well and truly felt all the orgasm had to offer. Then, without skipping a beat, I pulled my hand away and pushed the aluminum-enriched shaft all the way back in.

That was awesome.

Last night before bed, I asked Belle if my orgasm warning period had expired.

“Yeah, I’m pretty much over that now.”

She also told me she’s “working on” never letting me come again, but of course I know there are no promises and she’s free to change her mind at any time. Also also, when I said something about jerking off and how much I used to do it and like doing it, she told me flat out that wasn’t going to happen anymore. My solo JO days are behind me.

“Far too selfish,” she said, “Too much focus on you.” Maybe she’d let me do it sometime with her there. But probably not that often. If the penis gets to feel pleasure, it will almost exclusively be inside her.

And don’t you just know the penis surged in the Surge hearing that.

The first morning after being put in the Surge I was grabbing as the hard penis. Not jacking it, so much. That’s not allowed. Just gripping it. Squeezing it. If you’re the kind of perv who goes into for such things, I’ve included a NSFW picture after the jump, throbbing veins and all.

Continue reading “The thing about cock rings”