Tag: orgasm denial

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Metaphorical brussel sprouts

I wouldn’t call the conversations Belle and I are having regarding when I’ll next have an orgasm “negotiations.” If they are, they’re not unlike how a child negotiates their bedtime or how many brussel sprouts they need to eat before they’re allowed to leave the table. Belle is, after all, totally in control of when I come. That hasn’t stopped me from sharing what I think. Like that kid who wants to stay up fifteen more minutes or only eat two, not three, of the vile little green globs, I am at best lobbying.

I point out to her that we have been in a long and sustained Good Place® lately with regard to our D/s overlay. Perhaps the longest we’ve been doing so well since we started. Yeah, we have had a lot of practice by now, but the one thing that’s been different is my orgasm has been totally off the table. I know it’s not going to happen and she knows it’s not going to happen. So, besides avoiding the hormonal roller coaster that comes even with infrequent (say, every month or so) orgasm, I’ve been free to really wallow in my occasional desire to come and she’s free to totally shut me down since there’s a hard date out there (not before January). The further away I get from my last orgasm (which was around July 3rd), the more I’m able (in these moments of calm reflection) to realize I do not need them physically or want them in any other way than in a primal and situational sense. And, as we get closer to that magical “sometime after January starts” period, I’m starting to feel that happily denied male anxiety. Some guys, I know, never get there. They’re denied three days and they’re crawling out of themselves to come and never get to the point that they’d rather not. But that’s not me.

Belle’s not committing to anything other than reminding me who’s decision it is. Based on the few cryptic things she’s said (and acknowledging that she’s still ruminating over it), it kinda sounds like she’s leaning towards nothing so dramatic as some kind of “THOU SHALL NEVER COME AGAIN” decree and will instead go with a more reasonable approach where I don’t come indefinitely. At least for as long as it makes sense. That could be an additional week or…however long it is. Then, of course, I will have some skin in the game. I’ll do whatever I can to keep it from happening, though I know that when she lets me fuck her there’s a 50-50 chance I’m going to really and truly want that orgasm. For me, it’s a bit more unsettling. I’d rather know. But she, it seems, isn’t prepared to go that far with me. Yet.

So, we’ll see. I get at least another month. I’ll keep squirming in my seat and pushing my metaphorical vegetables around as she decides my fate. However it ends up, it’s her call and I know it.

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Big ginger

I went out for drinks after work last night with a client and a coworker. I don’t normally drink, but I’ve discovered I like whiskey and ginger ale. It’s caller a Big Whiskey in these parts, though I’ve found not all bartenders have heard of it. Also, I’ve found I like it with Johnny Walker Black. Nice and smooth. Buttery, even. Mmmm.

Yeah, so I don’t normally drink, but I managed to get one down before anyone else showed up and was well on my way to number three before the entire group arrived. The appetizers helped me get my wits back together so I stopped at three. I was in good shape by the time we broke up, but feeling very sleepy. Since, you know, I’m a lightweight.

When I got home, Belle was working on a presentation for work in bed so I zoned watching stupid TV until she was done. Once the lights were out, I pretty much was too, but she decided to have a little conversation. I can’t remember what prompted it, but she mentioned something about maybe leaving me in a device all the time. I pointed out that I’m pretty much in a device all the time now, but she said she was talking about forever. Like, I wouldn’t get out again. She reminded me of my last post and I, sleepily, reminded her that not coming ever again and not ever getting out of chastity ever again are really different things. I admit that I would rather be locked up than not and don’t feel right if some kind of steel isn’t between my legs, but I still like getting out once every week or so. I mean, it’d be such a waste now that I’ve become so good at not coming when she fucks me. Anyway, it didn’t get much further than that. I fell asleep.

Speaking of fucking, I got some of that over the weekend. She let me out Sunday morning but didn’t use the penis for her pleasure opting instead to come from my fingers. After, though, she let me fuck her. I was able to go for quite a while and, at least this time around, never got close to coming. I did want to. I told Belle I felt like I wanted to come.

“No you don’t,” she said.

No, I didn’t. But did at the same time. She mentioned that I should be entered in some kind of chastity Olympic stamina event, I was fucking her so long. Eventually, she told me it was time to end. I wanted to keep going forever, but no. She left me out the rest of the day and all that night. The next day, she put me in the Jail Bird.

I wanted to go in the Looker again and told her that if she would rather, I’d be happy to put that one on instead. There was a time that she didn’t like the JB as much. She reminded me that I didn’t get to decide which device I was in and said she like the JB just fine. So that’s what I’m in.

This morning, as I was getting back from the gym, she was just pulling out of the garage. I gave her a kiss through her car’s window and had one of those bolt from the blue moments I just never had when I was coming whenever I wanted. With her soft lips on mine, I was aware of her whole body and craved every bit of it. In just a few lingering seconds, I felt a jolt of electricity jump from my crotch, through our kiss, down to her snatch, and all the way back. I wanted to jack off badly but had to be content with tending the porn farm. Funnily enough, I found myself selecting a large number of images involving pussies. They were all so fascinating. Afterward, as I was getting into the shower to not jack off, I found my nuts slick with clear leakage from the penis. Even after the shower and after I dried off, it was still coming out.

So, you know, everything’s great here.

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Six months to life

Atone left the following in response to my suggestion that if one can go six months without having an orgasm, one can go much longer:

I don’t know if six months is the magic number but somewhere around that point I realized that it is possible that I might be able to go the rest of my life. The logic went something along the lines of – well, it’s been over six months and that went well, I should have no problem going another six months to make it a year. After a year it truly became normal to not have an orgasm, I could probably go another. It has now been almost 16 months and I occasionally think it would be really nice to have an orgasm but then remember how much happier I am now that I don’t do that anymore. I think if I had an orgasm now I would want another, and another. While the idea of a break is sometimes nice to think about I believe it would end up being rather unsatisfying.

This is going to be different for every person, obviously. Some men will recoil in horror at the idea of preferring a mostly orgasmless existence (even those who enjoy chastity or orgasm denial). Others of us, obviously, not so much.

I don’t think six months is a magical number. Niether is a year. They’re just nice and round. The thing I really gravitate toward in Atone’s comments is the part about how, at some point, it becomes normal not to have orgasms. At some point, it stops being a game or a gap or a test of endurance and it just becomes how you are. And you realize that you like yourself better that way.

Now, I know there’s a lot of dissonance out there about whether or not male orgasm denial makes men better partners (on all levels). I acknowledge that an ass is an ass and there’s no magic bullet to fix that. But I also know from first-hand experience that easy and frequent access to orgasms can make a man distant and even indifferent to their partner. I know that the disconnection of one’s sexual “satisfaction” (a word I use in the most tactical and transitory way possible) is detrimental to the health of a monogamous relationship (I can’t speak to non-monogamy, of course, though I have some opinions there, too). I’m not the perfect mate by a long shot, but I know I’m better now than I was when I could sneak off at night and pull one out.

What I’m saying is, at this point in my life and if it were up to me, I’d rather be the kind of guy whose default existence was to not have orgasms. Not that THOU SHALT NEVER HAVE ANOTHER ORGASM AGAIN or whatever, just that based on my experience, I prefer how it feels not to. I prefer how it makes me relate to my partner. Sure, there are complicating things that go along with being orgasmless (the occasional sleeplessness, an ever-present need for sexual attention, etc.), but in balance, they’re outweighed by how it’s changed my fundamental outlook toward my partner. The early years are behind us. The difficultly I had in adapting to this “lifestyle” are mostly over. I’ve come to terms with how it feels to keep the orgasm inside and am able to maintain that feeling in mostly productive space.

And it’s not that I don’t want to come. Of course, the constant desire to do so creates the thermal energy that fuels all the positive outcomes. When I mention to Belle that it’s been four months, it’s not because I’m dying for the next two to be over, it’s because I’m thinking, Jesus, it’s been four fucking months! In a way, it’s kinda like but then again totally not like an addiction. Once a certain kind of person is addicted to something, they always want it. The desire never leaves them. They have to learn to live with it. That’s where I am with orgasms. They still feel good. As Atone says, the idea of having one is appealing. But that would release certain chemicals in my brain that might lead to having more which would leech all the good stuff that’s built up inside me away.

Of course, this is all talk without Belle’s buy-in. Is she willing to make that exchange? Are the trade-offs sufficiently valuable to her to live without me intentionally coming inside her from now on? Also, by becoming one of those guys, will she have a hard time relating to me? Guys who don’t want to orgasm are…weird. Also, not for nothing, I gave her my orgasm several years ago. I can’t make this change without her consent either way. She’s my partner and I’m her sub.

In a way, this is like discovering the proverbial secret garden. You chase this little ball of orgasm denial into a dark and overgrown grotto and discover behind the hanging moss and ivy a Wonka-like environment you’re not entirely sure is known to anyone except a very few. It’s not all that hard to get back, but once there, why leave? I suppose you’re either going to grok that or you’re not.

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Thirty minutes of freedom

Last Sunday was a bit more than advertised. Belle did let me out and she did, in fact, fuck me. Also, I once again kept it together and resisted coming. Relatively speaking, I wasn’t even close. This brings my streak to five for the number of times Belle’s been able to get off on the penis without me ruining everything with an orgasm. Again, I thought about politics, but with baseball over and the election about to mercifully come to an end, I’m going to have to find another unsexy thing to keep my mind distracted from the feeling of her pussy sliding back and forth over the aching, neglected shaft.

She also let me have a go at her once she was through glowing and stuff. Her pussy felt incredibly hot and sensuous and I was once again sweating out my desire to come in her. Cold, damp sweat. I ended up leaking copiously, but no orgasm. Belle told me the ride was coming to an end and I withdrew about 80% and just moved the head back and forth feeling her labia playing over the overly sensitive glans. Holy fuck, you know? I’m almost shuddering now just typing these words…

In any event, the Looker 02 came off immediately prior to the fucking and the Steelheart Short went over the still-sticky meat immediately after. I never left the bed unlocked. Couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes of freedom, but they were action-packed.

Later that day, after her parents had been over for dinner, she told me in the kitchen that she wanted to go at it again. I pointed out the kids were still up and she rejoined that our bedroom had a door with a lock. With memories of coronal ridges bumping past labial folds dancing in my mind, we retired to the bedroom and locked said door.

I quickly discovered that the coronal ridge was out of luck. The device wasn’t coming off again. We both got naked (except for the steel) and I took up my position next to her, sucking and pinching her nipples and playing with her pussy. Outside the door, the dog was going to town on a squeaky toy.

“He’s excited for us,” Belle said.

“Errhurmph,” I said, mouth full of tit.

“Well, he’s excited for me, anyway.”

“Ermph,” I replied.

I have a remarkably well-tuned sense of how her orgasms develop now and I could tell things weren’t coming along as they should. She brought out Pink, her favorite vibrator, and I used that instead of my fingers. Still, no dice. She took it out of my hand and benched me from below-the-belt action so I redoubled my attention to her nipples. Eventually, she came, but it was a different kind of orgasm. Longer and broader as opposed to a sharp crescendo  Belle’s just one of those girls who has a hard time with the multiple orgasm thing. More like a guy that way, actually.

Anyway, since then I’ve been back in the Steelheart after quite a lot of time in the Looker. It’s taken me all week to readjust at night. The nocturnal erections are a lot more intense in the SH-S with its smaller ring and tighter gap. Given a few more days, I’ll probably be sleeping through most of it, but it’s a very different experience from both the Looker and the Jail Bird (both with slightly larger rings).

It’s now been just over four months since my last orgasm. That’s clearly record territory. Belle mentioned last night that I’m just two months away from my next chance to have one and I suppose I should be looking forward to that, but I’m ambivalent. If I can go six months, I can go for the rest of my life, right?

Right?

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Changing outfits

The other day, I was stripping out of my day clothes and into something more comfortable whilst in front of Belle. She looked over and saw the Looker dangling between my legs and said that this weekend she’d “change my outfit” (meaning I’d be locked in a different device from her collection). Also, she indicated that she’d likely want to use the penis while it was available.

Last night, I was snuggled up against her, pressing as much of my body against as much of hers as possible, and asked when I was coming out. Based on how these things have gone down in the past, I assumed I’d have a day or so of freedom. She told me I misinterpreted what she said and then let me know how it was going to go down this time.

“So you’re just going to fuck me and then lock me back up?”

“Pretty much.”

Whimper.

For those wondering, it’ll be the Steelheart Short this time around.

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Happiest penis on earth

We’re back from our journey deep into the heart of the Happiest Place on Earth.

For those who were wondering from my previous post on the subject, the West coast version of the HPOE does not use metal detecting wands on park guests. That meant, after the first day, I was in the L02 until we departed. It’s hard to be around so many people and wonder how many other men are locked up. Or how many would like to be if only they could build up the courage to bring it up with their partner.

Anyway, it was good that the device was off for at least one reason on that first day since it was our wedding anniversary. To celebrate, we booked massages at the spa in the resort. In the past, my experience with massages has been that they leave a towel or other cloth for you to climb under during the rubbing, but in this case, the sheet was whisper thin. When on my back, I’m quite sure the masseuse (a guy who had a definite gay vibe about him) could see if I was circumcised (and that, of course, made me very much aware of the massage-induced tumescence that can spring to life from time to time). Any device would have plainly been on display. In general, I wouldn’t advise anyone wear one to a massage unless it’s your thing to share your sex life with strangers. Personally, I wish we lived in a culture where it would be acceptable, but really, it’s not. In any event, I had a 90-minute deep-tissue rub-down that left me rubbery, fragrant, and slick with oil. Really great. I need these more often.

Belle mentioned during our fantastic dinner afterward that the resort’s security allowed for me to be in my usual state and that I would be the next morning. Beforehand, though, she took advantage of our private bedroom and the penis’ availability to bring herself to orgasm while fucking me from on top. This is about four times now that she’s been able to do that without me coming which is a feat I’m pretty happy about. She prefers penetrative orgasms and I’m very pleased to be able to help her get them. At least for the past several times, I’ve been able to put myself in a place that keeps me far enough away from coming as necessary. This means I don’t actually get a lot of pleasure from the sex, but that’s not the point anyway. And usually, she let’s me go for a ride after her post-orgasmic glow recedes. Then, I can fuck like I mean it, but without the natural pay-off.

I went right back into the Looker as soon as we got home and remain there now, though Belle’s mentioned she might want to get off on the penis again this weekend. Not sure exactly, but I’ve been wearing the new device for probably just over a month total now. Interestingly, the urethral plug has become less and less noticeable during that time. I still feel it every once in a while, but it’s nothing at all like it was for the first week or so. Like wearing a device in general, the fact that I have this seven to eight centimeter titanium tube impaling the penis has become second nature. For those wondering, there’s been no internal pain or discomfort. After it comes out, it feels as though it was never in. Even the weird cavitating sensation I talked about when peeing, while still present, is no longer a discomfort.

The only issue I’m having with the L02 right now may or may not have anything to do with the plug. For some reason, since putting it back on when I got home, I’ve been getting the foreskin and edge of the glans pinched against the edge of the cap on the end of the cage when laying on my stomach in bed or after shifting my seated positon, etc. Not all the time, but enough times that it’s noticeable and not a fluke thing. I don’t know what’s changed, but I wonder if the penis isn’t moving as freely along the plug as it once was. When wearing a steel device for a long time, there will eventually form deposits like hard water scale. In the Steelheart, this happens near the inside end of the tube where the little bit of urine that doesn’t drain can sit. It’s possible something similar is happening on the plug shaft and that’s keeping the penis from settling in as far as it used to which, in turn, is leaving things in a pinch-able position. The way to deal with these deposits is to soak the device for a few minutes in vinegar. Afterward, they rub right off. Kinda like getting the scale out of your coffee maker. If Belle lets me out this weekend, I’ll do that and see how things change (assuming she puts me back into the L02 and not one of her other options).

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Workin’ it

This post is supposed to be an update on the fitness program, but I find myself out of lock-up prior to our trip and I’m having a hard time keeping my mind on anything specific for too long. The free, unlocked, unplugged penis is very needy and distracting. My last orgasm was about the 5th or 6th of July, after all. I am at or very near uncharted denial endurance territory. Even just putting some jewelry into the PA this morning with the penis all flippy and floppy and squishy was an ordeal. It wanted to chub out while the PA hole had shrunk from disuse making the 4 gauge circular barbell a tight fit. Then, not to waste a perfectly good stiffy, I again “tested” the Fleshlight with exactly the same results as before. What a thing, man.

Aaaanyway, fitness. Yes, still going to the trainer three days a week. I’m stronger now that at any point in my life, I’m sure. I can bench, lift, and curl weights I’d never even try in the past and can push through dozens of sit-ups. When I started, I couldn’t do a damned thing (my plank was about 30 seconds). It’s hard to believe how out of shape I was. The results are evident all over, though I have had a hard time losing any more weight. I’m stubbornly stuck. The muscles under there are nice to have. I can feel a marked difference in core strength and, for example, when on the back extension machine, my ass is as hard as stone. But still the bit about the middle. Frustrating.

Belle’s also seeing my trainer now. She goes before me on the same three days I do. Even she’s getting some muscles and is happily past the every-muscle-in-my-body-hurts-oh-I’m-going-to-die phase. I’m really glad she’s joined me in the routine. We’re even taking our stuff on our vacation so we can work out together at the hotel.

With regard to working out and the various chastity devices I wear, there remain no issues other than an occasional odd bulge nobody’s ever brought up with me. The Looker 02 still has the tendency to give me a penis fuck when I’m squatting or doing other similar movements. I haven’t been jogging for quite a while thanks to peroneal tendonitis in my left foot. It’s been a few months of wearing a brace and going to physical therapy, but I’m almost back to being able to run again. I’ve been doing it in smaller increments on the treadmill and the L02 is quite evident when jogging. As in most other things, it’s not painful or even uncomfortable, but very there. The first time I ran for ten minutes with it on, an image of the impaled penis stuck on a long rigid tube flashed in my head every time I closed my eyes. The sensation was so clear it forced the impression into my mind. That said, I’m actually looking forward to finding out what it’s like to run with it on for an hour or so.

The thing about all this physical exertion, and the thing I want to get across more than anything else, is that starting is massively difficult. Inertia is a hard thing to push past. But, once you get going, the nice thing is that your body starts to crave the workout. Whatever chemicals get blasted into your brain are addictive so that the fitness routine because self-perpetuating. I’m going to miss two sessions with the trainer and it bugs the crap out of me. Not beging able to run, hard and for long distances, actually made me depressed.

I don’t want to get preachy, but all you have to do is give yourself a taste. Get started and your body will take over from there.

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Scruffy and smelling of wood smoke

Back from my weekend away from Belle. It was the last hurrah hang out in the woods with the squirrels and other furry critters (and friends) weekend of the year. Not in tents this time but all huddled together in a rude, uninsulated “cabin” in the sticks. Belle at first said I’d be going in the Steelheart but I’m not ashamed (OK, maybe a little) to say I begged to be let out beforehand and she gave me the key.

The night I got back (and after I showered off four days of campfire stink and shaved off a week of stubble), she didn’t make me go back in so I was treated to the pleasure of falling asleep next to her truly naked with the penis nestled up against her pointedly disinterested hand. It got kind of hard but sensed it was being ignored and let me sleep. Being jammed into the cabin left little privacy outside the inside of my sleeping bag, but I was able to whip it out and jack off on the highway a few times. Of course, not to completion.

Yesterday morning, she left out the Looker 02 for me to put on after I got back from the trainer. When she told me what the timing would be (after I worked out and she went to work), I was planning on getting some nice edging in before going back under the lock and key, but was surprised to find I forgot all about that and was back in the device before I had a chance to do anything. I wanted to play with the penis but apparently wanted back in a device more (or perhaps I’m just that well trained at this point). In any event, I put the L02 on after lubing the tube with nothing more than my own spit. The bulbous end got hung up at the opening before popping in and getting swallowed up by the penis. It’s been maybe ten days or so since I last had the tube shoved up there and it didn’t feel quite the same this time. Still very invasive and never far from mind, but every little motion wasn’t telegraphed through the sensitive walls of the urethra. I guess it’s been broken in like a shoe. Regardless, it’s surprising how quickly this kind of invasion has become just another standard part of my chastity.

In other news, I was able to sneak a try at the Fleshlight Flight masturbator before I left. Suffice it to say, if I had had this thing and the internet when I was 19, I never would have left the fucking house. I fear for the future of our species. I’m pretty sure young men’s biological motivations to hooking up with young females will be totally short-circuited by this wonder of space age materials. No, I didn’t come, but holyjesusfuckingchrist, did I get close. Lots of leakage which I let dribble into the squishy sleeve. After regaining my composure, I’d fuck it again all sloppy and lubed up with my own warm semen and that shit just about made my head explode (both of them). I’m not saying it’s better than Belle, but if I didn’t know, it’d be good enough that I’m not sure I’d be all that motivated to find out what a real girl was like. Which leads me to worrying about our reproductive future. In any event, if you’re the kind of boy who get’s to masturbate and come and all that, you should check this shit out.

In a week, the whole famn damliy head off for a theme park vacation. I can’t be locked up for travel, of course, but it’ll be really weird if she lets me stay out for five full days. The Happiest Place on Earth would be just a little happier if at least one penis in it was trapped in a steel cage.

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Flashback

Remember that time when you first started seeing your significant other? When you’d want to put every little bit of them in your mouth and thought the taste of their spit was the best thing ever and that they smelled like magical unicorn butterflies (work with me here)? And when you fucked them all you could hear in the back of your head was, “DEEPER!!” and you’d be all like, “I’m in as deep as I can be!” and that voice would say, “Oh hell, let me,” and you’d try to grind yourself past the point of absolute total insertion and dangerously close to pelvic trauma? As if you could, if you just pressed hard enough, actually fuck yourself inside of them. And every other word out of your mouth was telling them how much you loved them because, truly, you did and couldn’t stop saying it?

Yeah, that was me on Sunday. Belle let me get her off and then I begged to be let out so I could take a ride. She thought about it for longer than I thought she would and would have been OK for different reasons with either answer, but she eventually said yes. The key came out and the Looker 02 slid off and out and, despite the impatient boner, I got the ring off. Then I was Mr. First Paragraph man.

No, I never came. Of course I didn’t. But it was great. So great. She told me she wanted me to put on the Steelheart, so that’s where I am now. Not much else to report, really. Being in the Steelheart is like being in the house you grew up in. A little tight, but homey and comforting. I’m away from Belle starting tomorrow until next Monday night. Not sure what she’ll expect my state to be whilst away. Probably find out later tonight.

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Risk

Over on the Looker 02 review, someone asked if I could address the risk of contracting a urinary track infection from the device. Of course, I cannot. I’ve only just started wearing it, after all, and most of my medical knowledge comes from watching St. Elsewhere when I was a kid (it was on after The Cosby Show and Family Ties – maybe the best night on TV ever…but I digress).

This UTI thing follows conversations about devices like the Looker 02 all around the internet. I guess that’s to be expected and I admit leaving something up your dick for a while must statistically increase your risk of getting an infection to some degree. But, since all we have is anecdotal information in the first place, I have to say the only people I’ve read talking about this eventuality are those who haven’t worn the device. Those who have (including a commenter here on my blog who wore a similar Steelworxx device for two months solid) haven’t, as far as I saw when looking into it, reported problems. All I do know is I urinate about eight times a day, presumably flushing the tube of contaminates each time. Some even leaks around the tube which seems to help keep it lubricated and probably cleans it a bit. But in the end, I just don’t know.

What we’re really talking about here is a risk/reward calculation.

If you downhill ski, you’re running a risk of ending up like Sonny Bono. If you swim in the ocean, you’re running the risk of ending up like Chrissie (or of just drowning). If you ride a motorcycle, you run the risk of becoming an organ donor. In our society, we indulge in risky behavior all the time and, while the behavior may or may not be acknowledged to be risky, it’s generally accepted as OK (and even cool in the case of the motorcycles). It’s only when we get to sex that the giant RISKY hammer comes down hard. Yes, you can contract all kinds of diseases from sex (some easily dealt with, some chronic or deadly without treatment) and you can create new life and all the super unsexy responsibilities that come with it, but you can also experience intense pleasure from sex. Sexual contact is one of the great gifts of humanity. Diversity of sexual expresion is one of the things that defines us as human beings (and the freedom to express our sexuality is one of the things that defines a great society).

I’m not saying everyone should feel free to have unprotected sex of all kinds with whoever they want all the time. I’m saying there’s a risk/reward scenario at work in every sexual situation. Should you let that guy you just met fuck you bareback on the first date? No, that’s stupid. You could get HIV or pregnant or something (depending on your gender combinations – I’m trying not to presume). Should you give him a blowjob? Well, you could get a desease that way, but the chances are low. Would you rather give him a blowjob through a condom? Ew. You decide. Should you have sex on a picnic table? You could get arrested, you know. Should you let that top put a ball gag in your mouth? You could choke on your own vomit and die. Etc, etc. Similarly, should you practice long-term orgasm denial? I, for example, haven’t come since July and won’t until January (hopefully). Some research says that might be bad for my health, but other research says it’s nothing to worry about. Personally, I’ve decided to risk the consequences for the reward.

Same goes for the Looker 02. I might end up with a UTI or I might not. If I do, it’s an easy thing to get rid of (though it sounds like a bummer of a thing to have). I’m OK with that.

To me, the excessive bias against “risky” sexual behavior in our culture has more to do with a built-in prejudice against anything that’s not male-female monogamous/married missionary-style sex than an actual evaluation of any given activity’s chances of doing you harm. Each degree of movement away from that basic starting point ratchets up the risk sirens and we’re taught that risk in sex IS NOT WORTH IT. Do nothing risky! Play it safe! It’s not worth the consequences!

Well, I say it is. Sometimes. Sex is worth the risks.

Note that this post is not directed at the commenter who asked the original question. I didn’t perceive any kind of judgemental bullshit from them. Their comment was just the catalyst that eventually led me to write this.