Jet lag sex

Belle was in China for a week which is kind of a short trip considering it’s like on the other side of the planet and all but not the shortest trip she’s taken there. In any event, long enough for her to acclimatize to the time difference and have to deal with jet lag after she landed very late Thursday night.

Friday was a work day for me, but Belle told me to go in late so I could get her off then go to breakfast. So that’s pretty much exactly what happened. Once all the offspring were out of the house, we got to business. I really wanted out since it had been two weeks since the last time she let me, but we were pressed for time so she took her pleasure and left me tight and needy. Of course, I’m not allowed to ask to be let out and I tried not to make it too obvious, but she could tell. Didn’t especially bother her, but she could tell.

Then the jet lag fucked her up. Or, the sleep aid she takes to help get back on track to CDT did. She didn’t wake up as early and was groggy when she did so Saturday and Sunday mornings were a washout, sex-wise. It was starting to look like it’d be another week before the penis would have a chance to get wet.

We were in bed last night watching Grand Designs which we’re just getting in the states on Netflix and, if you haven’t seen it, is wonderful AF. While laying there drooling over two dudes and their fucking amazing farmhouse, she was groping my biceps and getting all worked up. Next thing, she was putting my hands on her tits and the next thing after that she was throwing her key at me.

Sometimes, like Friday morning, Belle just wants to get off. Other times, like last night, she wants dick. Once the Halfshell was off, she couldn’t keep her hands off its contents. She was stroking and teasing and generally manhandling it the whole time I was sucking her tits and fingering her snatch. A few times I thought to offer her the option of mounting me and riding it to her orgasm but I can never tell until that happens if I’ll be able to keep my shit together long enough to get her home and asking her to stop is almost as bad as coming without permission (pretty fucking bad). The fact that she would’ve had to be quiet could have helped since the sound of her coming is often enough to bring me to orgasm, too, but I never said anything.

As she was building to her orgasm, I was able to sync up with her in sympathy. Her breathing became faster and more shallow, so did mine. She started to gyrate her hips around, I started to grind the free and hard erection into the space between her leg and the mattress. She moaned and I did, too. When the moment came and she went over the falls, I pressed my fingers against her clit and reached in and hooked under her pelvic bone and rode her pleasure, wave after wave with each buck of her hips, holding my breath and moaning into her. When she was done coming, I felt like I was, too.

She could have told me right then to put the device back on the penis. To wait for it to lose its stiffness and stuff it back into the steel. And I would have been satisfied. To have her pay so much attention to it and allow me to share in her ecstasy is enough for me. More than I usually get, in fact. Yes, I wanted to fuck her badly, but that’s not uncommon. She could have ordered it back in and I would have complied.

But she didn’t. She pulled me over on top of her and guided the head of the penis so it lined up with the hot, wet folds of her pussy and I pushed it in. The snug heat of her snatch enveloped me and I immediately felt like I was about to come. I repositioned myself and gave it another thrust, this time nearly all the way in. Then again. Then I felt the urge. The tripwire had been hit. I urged it to stop so I could give her the fucking she wanted but the best I could do was sit as still as stone while my thick seed surged into her. Even immediately after, I needed to hold it still lest it develop into something too close to an orgasm. Regardless, my time was over. I felt terrible for lasting so shortly and truly regretted not giving her the chance to ride me when it might have worked.

Orgasm or not, the penis started to deflate. It knows the rules as well as I do now and refuses to stay hard after it shoots even the least amount. I thanked Belle for allowing me to share in her pleasure and apologized for not having the stamina to perform as she clearly wanted me to. But she gave me a kiss that told me she understood. This is what I am now. There’s no fixing it.

By the time she came back to bed, I was putting the Steelheart on. That’s the rule. I don’t even ask. I am always to be locked up. I gave her the key. We kissed again. And she fell asleep.

Changing the playlist

Belle mixed it up the past few days. While getting her off, she told me to start fucking her. She hadn’t come yet, but I did as I was told and tried to focus on the fact that she needed and wanted to feel a real cock inside her before she came. Perhaps even to make her come, but that was unlikely. I lasted longer than usual lately but it still wasn’t more than five minutes, tops.

When the orgasm came rushing up out of the deep, I froze and shot my load without any climax. One thick load and another less so. But the penis did what it does now and started to droop. I went back to stroking her clit with my fingers, but she wanted something inside her. She reached into her nightstand and took out the lovely glass dildo I got her from Smitten Kitten. She used the ample lubrication of my seed to work it into her pussy and I sucked her tit and fingered her clit until she came hard and loud. I felt her pussy spasm and clamp against the glass toy over and over. We had the house to ourselves so she could make all the noise she likes to and, had it been summer, the neighbors would undoubtedly been woken up if they were not already.

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After, she was suprised at how much of the pretty dildo went inside her. It’s about 9.75″ long and only an inch and a half or so went unused. Of course, I went back into the Halfshell immediately (before even getting out of bed). I could tell she was happy with the outcome of the morning’s activities since she mentioned it several times over the course of the day. Not just that she really enjoyed herself, but also revelled in the mess of my ejeculation mixed with her juices.

This morning, she let the penis out again and, again, changed the playlist in the middle of our set. She climbed up on me and started to ride the hard penis with easy abandon. I did my usual bit of trying to stay as still as possible and thought hard about baseball. Like how the Dodgers are reportedly about to trade a hot young pitching prospect to the Twins in exchange for an established second baseman stud who they need for the position and hits right-handed pitching well which is also a weak spot and while I’ll miss the guy on the Dodgers at least I can go see him at Target Field, rinse, repeat ad infinitum.

But baseball can only get a guy so far and I’m no good at doing figures in my head and don’t know the Periodic Table by heart so the next thing I know she’s pushed me to the point of coming. I let her know through a mouth-full of nipple by making the “OK, I’m about to come” noise and putting my hand on her ass to suggest she slow down, but she didn’t. Not at all. If anything, she sped up. I resisted as much as I could and tried to clamp down on it but the lizard brain made a good point. She was obviously trying to make me come, so why not go along with it? Resisting an orgasm after such a long stretch would end up being physically painful anyway. So I started to fuck her back and got two and a half thrusts in before I shot and shot and shot. So much fucking come. We did not have the house to ourselves and I might have tried to keep it quiet if any part of my brain that tracks of such things was working, but it wasn’t.

Instead, it felt like a brick wrapped in red velvet slammed into the back of my head. Belle wouldn’t stop fucking me and the head of the penis was about to explode right off the end of the shaft with hyper-sensitivity and I was still shooting weakly so I felt another velvety brick impact my cranium. That and my stomach flipped over. This orgasm, about three months in the making, was making me feel physically ill.

I had to get Belle off of me because I felt so strange but the worst of the issues passed in a few moments. Then I was stupefied by the rare post-orgasmic hormones flooding my system. I could barely move. The penis shriveled up into almost nothing and Belle told me how much she enjoyed literally pulling that orgasm out of me.

I was such a wreck Belle told me I didn’t have to help her get off. I was in and out of consiousness as she get off with her little vibrator but woke up to hear her come because that’s my favorite part.

The Halfshell is back on, of course, and Belle’s told me it will be another long while until I come again. The craving for me to do so right now is pretty intense. It’s always the second one after a long period that both feels really good and blows away all the lingering denial byproducts. But that’s not in the offing. Not even on the horizon, apparently.

Controlling the denial

My goodness, but we kinky folk like to define things, don’t we? I wrote about May’s stats and that triggered Charmer to write about whether she and Snake are doing orgasm denial or orgasm control. I suppose the terms are used interchangeably by a lot of people and I probably used them that way, too, at least at first. I now think a couple of things on the subject.

First up, it kinds of depends on one’s point of view. In my case, I’m being denied when Belle has me locked up but I’m also controlling myself when she lets me fuck her or otherwise fiddle with the penis absent permission to come. From her perspective, she’s controlling me when I’m locked up and denying me what millions of years of evolution is pounding away at me to do when the penis is inside her. So, looked at that way, control and deny are yin and yang-ish.

But can I be really denied something I don’t want in the first place? In that case, it’s all control, right? Pure willpower over the autonomic response from having the penis in a warm, wet place and pushing it in and out. Thing is, my higher brain may be able to sit in its wingback chair donned in a smoking jacket, snifter of brandy in hand, and have a William F. Bucklyesque cerebral discourse on the subject but my lower brain — my lizard brain — only wants one thing. And it’s all my higher brain can do sometimes to ride that lizard and keep it in check. So absolutely, lower lizard is denied what he wants through the control of Mr. Buckley upstairs.

I don’t know about other guys, but it’s that push and pull between the two parts of my brain where I really get off on denial. It’s like surfing, in a way. Needing to maintain balance and poise while constantly judging and compensating for this wild force of nature. The feeling of your toes hanging over the board and the wind in your face as you skate the edge of failure while riding that sucker all the way in. That, in and of itself, is a kind of energy altogether different from fucking and coming. Yes, absolutely, coming is wonderful. But sitting in that pure space between desire and objective while waiting for someone to tell you what happens next. The lack of control over one of the most basic human urges. That’s the stuff.

Her denial depends on my control. Her control over me leads to my denial.

Usually.

This morning was different. It started out well with the fingers in the pussy and the nipples in the mouth and, thanks to a kid-free house, Belle yelling her heart out as she came. Then I got to fuck, but all her vocalization had left me right on the edge from the get go. I found myself immediately in that space between wanting it and getting it and was trying to surf right down that pipe and was doing a fairly good job. Minimal leakage, but lots of starting and stopping.

But then she stuck her tongue in my mouth. And…I don’t know. I can’t tell you what happened. It was like her tongue, once it was past my lips, was ticking the penis directly. The pipe started to collapse and I held the penis stock-still in an attempt to keep things going, but her tongue wouldn’t stop. I wasn’t fucking her, but I started shooting inside her. The pipe crashed down and my board went up over my head and I may have bumped into a shark, I don’t know.

It was a really weird orgasm. At first, I thought maybe it was ruined. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing so she didn’t know what was going on. Then I felt the prolactin hit my brain in three beats of my heart. Like someone had injected me with it. BLAM. Went down like a sack of bricks and was quickly in sleepy-bye land. There was no explosion of dopamine that usually goes with orgasm so it didn’t feel like one when it happened, but I was absolutely post-orgasmic once my load was drained.

Siting here now, I don’t really feel like I came. I’m still pretty horny. Easily turned on. But also kind of grumpy. I can tell my temper is shorter than usual. Part of it is being annoyed at myself for kinda coming, but it’s more than that. Hard to explain. Brain chemistry is tricky, I guess.

Whatever, that’s what happens when the control fails. The denial ends. You can’t have one without the other.

Give and take

She told me it was time, so I climbed between her legs. She took the hard shaft in her hand and, as usual, placed its leaky tip against the lips of her freshly orgasmed pussy. I tilted my hips a bit and felt it. That feeling. Of warm, wet, soft envelopment. Not confinement. Not hard steel. The feeling that makes my eyes roll back. She made a little sound of pleasure.

I left it right there for a moment, then pulled it out until I felt her lips slip past the sensitive flare of the penis, then pushed it back. Just about a third. In and out. In and out. Not too much. Not yet. God, I wanted it all in there. I wanted more than I had inside her. I wanted to feel every bit of her pussy push back against me, but that’s not something the penis can do on its best day and, if I were to try, it would be more about what I wanted and less about my job. She likes to be fucked. She likes to feel a hard man inside her. She wants to feel him take his pleasure from her pussy, but were I to do that the whole thing would be over too quickly. I might even come.

I fuck her for her when she lets me. It’s like a dance. A performance. For her benefit. I pretend to be a man concerned only with his own ends because that’s what she wants to feel. If I forget myself and become the part I’m playing, I lose my control. I can’t lose control.

I shift my weight forward and feel her pussy grip the penis about two-thirds up. I wrap my arm over her shoulder and behind her head. She brings her hand up (the one that put the penis in the spot she wanted it) and feels my bicep. I flex it hard as part of the dance. She purrs.

Her breathing is pronoucned in my ear. Her eyes are closed and she’s enjoying the feeling of being penetrated by a real hard shaft. I turn my head a little to the right and put her nipple in my mouth. I lick and suck it while pushing in a little deeper. I quicken my pace. Won’t last too long at this speed, but I know my limits. I know when to stop. In and out. In and out…

Right there.

I freeze. A hot shot of fluid flexes out of me and into her. Another. Ejaculation without orgasm. I wait a moment. Let the urge drain away. That’s it. Push it in a little. Pull it out a little. The orgasm, which was so close, now is far away. I can get back to my job. I won’t get close to coming again.

The consistency of her snatch has changed. It’s super wet and slippery with the added ejaculate. I fuck through it and pretend it’s not my mess. That she’s already been taken and these are his sloppy seconds. The penis, if flagging at all, regains its strength. Full pressurization.

Now the penis is fully inside her. I’m fucking her deep – well, as deep as I can – trying to hit her cervix. Push it in, pull it out a centimeter, push it in, pull it out a centimeter. Her nipple is back in my mouth. She’s liking this. The penis is how she likes it. The fucking is how she likes it. We both pretend like I’ll come in a minute. But I won’t. I just keep fucking and sucking. I keep giving her what she wants. And she keeps taking it.

Hard is good

It was the odd Saturday night in that both kids were out doing their own thing and Belle and I had the house to ourselves. We had been out and about doing domesticy things before deciding to have dinner at our favorite Mexican place. When we got home, she decided we’d fool around. 

I was being kind of cluless about the whole thing and was in my comfy clothes and had Game of Thrones all queued up (Belle has decided to finallly start watching so we’re still early in season one) when I looked over and saw her getting into bed naked. Ok, then. I got naked and slid in next to her. 

Of course, it all starts with the kissing. But I was unlocked and the candle was lit and my skin was on hers so things escalated quickly. I reached around her leg and slipped my fingers into her snatch from behind. I love feeling her clit from underneath and the different sensation and my mouth on her opposite nipple had her breathing heavily in no time. The position we were in gave her easier access to the penis which was hard and needy. She was fingering it in return, occasionally rubbing her thumb in circles over the flare in its head. Almost enough to make me shoot right there. Made my breathing fast and short. 

Having already come once that day about 14 hours earlier, Belle was going to need something more than the kind of stimulation I can give with my body. She grabbed her trusty purple vibe from the drawer and used it on herself while I fucked her with my ring and middle fingers. Up and in and curling around trying to hit her G-spot, eventually finding the right rythym to her own vibratory gyrations. Since we were alone, she could be as loud as she likes to be (which is LOUD). It took her longer than usual but it was all good. She was clearly enjoying the feeling of my fingers in her, the vibe on her, and my mouth sucking her tits. She said, Oh fuuuuuck! in that way that makes me all melty inside. Then she exploded vocally (hi neighbors!) and her pussy throbbed and clamped under my hand.

I’ve had an interesting relationship with erections in recent months. There’s a trope online about chastity making it more difficult to have an erection and I think that’s true, but it’s not a physiological thing. It’s all mental. The other day, we were trying to use the Boyfriend extender and it wasn’t working because I couldn’t keep it up (that whole morning was a disaster). Earlier in the morning yesterday, I had no problem keeping an erection until I got too close to coming and then it went away all by itself. So yes, chastity does affect your erections, but it does so by rewriting how your brain and penis work together. Or complicating their relationship. I know this because when Belle told me I could fuck her, the penis was ready and willing. All systems go this time.

As soon as I entered her, I could feel that my fingers had already been there. But it felt different in another way. I could also be more vocal and used the energy of it to be more primal and physical. This was not fucking encumbered by D/s dynamic overheard. This was fucking. No obfuscation between penis and brain. Not long after I started, I realized I wanted to come. Really wanted to hear her say I could. Then, the magic words. Ah, bliss.

But even this was different. Usually when she says I can, I either do it almost immediate or freak out. But not this time. She said it at exactly the right time. It wasn’t so far away I had too much time to think about it, but not so close that I couldn’t control myself. I let it build. Felt it accumulate energy in my balls and move through me, physically and mentally. My thrusting into her was different than usual when I know I can’t come or don’t know if she’ll let me. This time, each one had a purpose. For once, the rabbit and the lizard were working in tandem. No internal conflict. No regret. Just wanting to feel myself coating her snatch in my release. Feel the hard penis fuck through pools of its own making. Each thrust put me a centimeter closer and each thrust was punctuated by my grunts in her neck. When it finally happened, there were multiple explosions of light and sensation all over my body. As each surge of fluid left me and flew into her, brain chemicals I rarely feel in their full force flooded my bloodstream. It was a Top 5 orgasm. So good and so pure and so wonderful. The kind of orgasm you can’t have if you’re having them all the time. 

Then I went comatose. I’m no match for the post-orgasmic hormones and I was immediate high as a kite. Can’t hold my prolactin. But I came around. Eventually. Then we watched GoT. Poor Bran. And oh how young they all look. 

The coming cancer scare

One thing you often hear when discussing orgasm denial is the concern, based on a few studies and how they’re amplified through internet discussion, that it’s somehow a risk for the development of prostate cancer in men. This perception is helped along by reports like this one called “Best Evidence Yet!: Ejaculation Reduces Prostate Cancer Risk.”

Good news, men: you may be able to decrease your risk for prostate cancer by ejaculating — frequently, according to research presented here at American Urological Association 2015 Annual Meeting.

The frothy advice is not new but is now backed up by the “strongest evidence to date” on the subject, according to lead author Jennifer Rider, ScD, MPH, an epidemiologist at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health in Boston.

Two things off the bat. First, you do not follow an exclamation point with a colon. Ever. Second, the whimsical use of “frothy” is cute but inaccurate (if your ejaculate is “frothy” you many want to get yourself checked out). But I digress.

The study’s money shot:

After potential confounders were controlled for, the risk for prostate cancer was 20% lower in men who ejaculated at least 21 times a month than in men who ejaculated 4 to 7 times a month. The 20% risk reduction was seen at ages 20 to 29 and 40 to 49, and for the lifetime average (P trend < .0001 for all).

Some perspective. First, prostate cancer affects 1 in 7 men in the United States meaning the average man’s chance of getting it is 14.2%. The chances are far lower in young men and much higher in older men. If this study is correct, frequent ejaculation reduces one’s chances of getting it to 11.4%. It’s not a magic shield against getting prostate cancer. Also, there has been no research that I know of into the opposite hypothesis that infrequent ejaculation leads to a higher frequency of prostate cancer development. There is no data that supports the notion that orgasm denial is more dangerous than not denying orgasms. 

For me, this is another discussion of risk vs. reward. There may be a risk in practicing orgasm denial in your relationship. There are benefits to doing so, however. The question is, which are more important to you? Only you can say.

A boy and his best friend

There’s a saying about a dog being a boy’s first best friend but, in reality, the first best friend a boy has is his penis. It’s always there for him (and has been from the very start), is always ready to play, and, with a penis, a boy will never be bored for too long.

I suppose, kinda like a dog, when the boy finds a significant other that person can come between the boy and his penis except that the penis, unlike the dog, enjoys the other as much as the boy does so maybe the metaphor breaks down here, but the boy can always depend on the penis to be there for him even when the significant other loses their significance (and/or the dog dies). I can’t say if a woman’s relationship with her pussy is the same, but I don’t think it is. I suspect this is due to cultural indoctrination about what good girls do and don’t and what boys are allowed or even expected to do combined with the universal common knowledge that permeates our society as to how a boy can use his penis for pleasure by himself with no open discussion as to how a girl would do the same with her parts. Plus, I think penises are just simpler. Plus plus, women and their sexual needs are, I assume, fundamentally different in their psychology and mechanics than men’s. But I don’t have a pussy and, even though I know what they like, I won’t pretend to know how they are.

I say all this because I was thinking the other day as I lay next to Belle who had told me I wasn’t going to be unlocked at all and would therefore not feel any pleasure with the penis (regardless of how badly I was craving it) that boys (and the men they turn into) have nothing to prepare them for the kind of delayed and redirected gratification that comes with chastity and denial. We are physically and socially conditioned to expect on-demand gratification either from our partner or, lacking that, ourselves. In the forty-some years of my existence prior to having Belle control the penis, that was my life. If I was horny and she was unresponsive to my needs, I would jack off. QED.

But then chastity came along and I couldn’t do that. Plus, I was a lot hornier than ever before (excepting, perhaps, those years between my 16th and 23rd birthdays). And now, of course, I am specifically not allowed any such indulgence. What I did was take that sense of immediate need and simply make it Belle’s responsibility. I distinctly remember thinking she didn’t take my desires seriously enough considering the great gift of my chastity that I had given her. Double frustration. Not only was I horny as fuck, she didn’t seem to think it was her job to help me channel my frustrations.

I think this is a trap a lot of guys find themselves in.

Chastity and denial are, indeed, great at bringing couples closer together. But that can also do the opposite if the guy takes his perceived birthright of easy sexual gratification and pushes it over onto his partner. That is not the point of chastity. And it didn’t become the force for good that it is for us until I figured that out.

The only way to really quench my sexual thirst is to have an orgasm. But I only want that physically, not mentally or emotionally. She doesn’t want that either, most of the time. So I had to realize that my frustration and the constant need for sexual contact was mine to deal with, not hers. Yes, it often gnaws at me and flutters around in my chest and makes my balls ache and the penis hard and drippy, but that energy is what powers the beneficial aspects of chastity and denial. It is chastity and denial, not a side-effect.

I remember people telling me in comments on the blog early on that I wasn’t seeing the big picture. That I wanted her to control my sex, right? And wasn’t this what that meant? That I wouldn’t get whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it? But I didn’t see it. In short, I was a spoiled boy who missed his best friend. I struggled to adapt. But yes, I did want her to control my sex and living with not always getting what I want is the point. And, strangely, being totally estranged from my first best friend and completely removed from instant (or any) gratification has made me significantly happier than I was before. I can’t explain why, but it’s true. I don’t know how it works, but it does.

So now, when she tells me I’m not getting unlocked or even that we are not going to have sex, instead of feeling angry or resentful or petulant, I feel warm and grateful. Grateful that she has accepted the true meaning of her control without guilt or excessive consideration of what I’m feeling. Yes, she does recognize that what I go though can be hard, but she and I both know it’s for the best. We both know it makes me a better person and partner to her and it’s what we both want. So she appreciates it, but what I crave is not a primary consideration when she decides what she wants to do. And holy shit, does that turn me on.

If you read this blog because you hope one day to have your partner keep you locked up and/or deny you your orgasm, you need to know that doing it the way we do it means more than just a stifled erection. It means truly subjugating your sex to theirs. It means finding a way to capture and use that pent-up sexual desire for productive purposes and not letting it leak all over them in destructive and selfish ways. That is fucking hard. Maybe the hardest thing you’ll ever do for your partner. But, if you can pull it off, maybe the best thing you’ll ever do for them and for yourself.

I mentioned up there the “great gift of my chastity” that I had given Belle. Yes, it is a kind of gift, but I know now that the gift of her control is at least as great. Maybe greater in that it wasn’t something she ever wanted to do with her husband or thought she’d need to deal with. Never forget that. Your chastity is not bigger or more important than what they give you in return as the one controlling you. Submission is not greater than domination. It is not harder than domination. They are equal yet opposite things.

I don’t want anyone to read all this and think chastity means less sex. That’s not what it means. For us, it’s meant more and so much better sex. What it means is fewer orgasms for you, that’s it. The trap is trying to get her to have sex with you every time you would have otherwise gone off to yank one out. That’s unrealistic and unfair. You need to find a way to get off on their being in control and telling you no. You have to get off on being controlled. I know, that sounds obvious, but it’s a lot easier to think than to do. If you can do it and also channel that energy into making them realize how good the extra hassle of being in control of you can be for them, you’ll wake up one day to find them as much or more invested in that control than you are.

You might miss your first best friend, but…you can always get a dog.