Riding the thermals

I like porn as much as the next guy. I probably look at it more than the next guy my age since I’m unable to get myself to the place where it loses its appeal temporarily. Orgasmically speaking, I’m like a bird catching thermals. Spiral spiral spiral UP…spiral spiral spiral UP…always on the move, never resting.

I pay a lot of attention to the stuff that gets me off turns me on. Different things at different times. Sure, there’s the gender thing. Some days women are more appealing than men. But also scenarios. Women dominating men. Women being serviced. Men dominantating men/being serviced. Some days it’s just boobs that really get me going. Some days it’s just penises. Or men fucking women. I mean, this is all pretty basic, but what I’m saying is since I never “complete” a session with porn and only stop looking at it when I run out of time, I can pick up on how the texture of what I react to changes. It’s interesting. Well, to me anyway.

Some days, like yesterday, it’s men having orgasms that gets me. Specifically, close ups of men jacking off and then spewing their loads, thick and ropy, right into the camera and/or all over themselves. And when I say “gets me” I mean “leaves me staring slack-jawed.” The way a reformed smoker probably watches someone in a bar light up. Mesmerizing.

And I could feel it. The way it was to come whenever I wanted. Whenever I had the barest inclination to do so. How a guy can almost pull one out anywhere there’s a bit of privacy. At work. At the gym. In an airplane. That sensation of gripping a hard cock and how it felt in my hand and how as I got closer to coming I’d get up on my toes (if I was standing), eyes half closed, and then that breathless, weightless moment right after the point of no return and before the ejaculate slams past the prosate. Gasping. Moaning. Warmth.

Usually, I don’t miss it. Or I enjoy missing it. But sometimes, rarely, I miss it. I want it. I need it. It leaves a hole in me.

But it’s been so long since I can do it whenever I want that I find what I think it feels like and what it actually does doesn’t match. I imagine the penis feeling more substantial in my hand (to match the porn, I guess). Thicker. Longer strokes. And I can’t jack it or come without a sincere wave of guilt. And even if I could, it doesn’t last. I can’t savor it. Like the cigarette, once lit, is totally consumed in the first drag.

So I watch the men with their nice dicks do their thing and shoot their loads like a former fat kid pressing his face against the donut case glass. Wanting. Salivating. Jealous. But that’s all. Nothing more. Because there’s nothing more for me to do. If I ever had that kind of access to my own body again — to my own pleasure — it would mean I’d have lost so much that it would probably leave me sad.

But, you know. I’d still do it.

Addiction affliction

My post on the wonderful world of porn elicited this comment from a reader:

Yes, porn is nice and dandy, except … well, sometimes (and probably depending on the user) it isn’t. In fact, porn might be indeed comparable to drugs, at least in the way it might fuck up (no pun intended) your brain due to long-term use and thus your “sexual abilities” … I went there, unfortunately, so I kinda know what I’m speaking of. It took me quite some time and lots of effort to righten the issue, so be careful, boys and girls: Just as with drugs, alcohol, food and most other things, also in porn the dose the poison makes. Interestingly enough, I eventually managed to “cure” myself by turning to male chastity, thus becoming able to end my porn-masturbation habit. You never know what those cages can be good for.

http://yourbrainonporn.com/about-this-site for further information on the topic, if anyone’s interested.

And: Thanks for your writings, thumper. In my wildest dreams, I wouldn’t have thought of chastity to righten my problem, at least not on my own. Your blog set the wheels in motion, sort of. So, thanks again. 😉

Usual disclaimer here about me not being any kind of trained professional, etc., nor have I spent any time in a Holiday Inn Express recently.

I suppose it’s true people can become addicted to porn. Just like I’m sure some can become addicted to sex. My personal belief is claimed addiction to these things greatly outstrips actual addiction, though.

Based on personal experience and what I’ve gleaned from others, another way to view what often gets labelled as a “porn addiction” scenario could be:

  1. People in long-term relationships get bored with one another after a while (see: Sex At Dawn).
  2. One’s sexuality and/or understanding of it changes over time. (Optional)
  3. Porn is consumed, sometimes in excess.

If you/your partner gets bored in your LTR and/or the sex drops off to near-extinction levels (which it does in a lot of monogamous relationships) the first place one will take one’s neglected libido is pornography. I was there. I was that guy. Sneaking out of bed after Belle fell asleep to jack off in a room illuminated only by a computer screen was standard operating procedure prior to the events that led to our current dynamic. Do that long enough, and you might stop looking for release from your partner altogether. Do it often enough, and in those rare times your partner wants to have sex, you may not be able to provide it to them or be interested yourself. Also, you may discover a previously unexpressed kink/desire through the porn in which your current partner is unprepared/unwilling to participate. This interest misalignment can be compounded by neither of you knowing how to even broach the subject of it.

So, in that scenario, is the porn viewer “addicted?” I’d say no except that we human animals are genetically programmed to be “addicted” to the chemical hit of sexual release. We are all addicts in that regard. I tend to think we lean back on the addict label because it might lessen our responsibility for our actions. Alcoholics are sick, after all (and they are, I’m not saying alcoholism isn’t a real thing). If one’s an addict, perhaps it’s easier to explain the activity and/or deflect some responsibility for it.

Now, I don’t know you, commenter, and I don’t know your situation. Perhaps you really are/were addicted. But is seems to me impossible that all those who claim this addition can actually have it.

You say chastity was your pornography cure. I think that’s odd since my denial has led me to consume porn in far greater amounts than before when I could orgasm. Even though I’m locked up and unable to get off, it’s a much bigger distraction for me now than it ever was, even when I was young. So, are you cured of pornography or cured of the negative consequences of using it to get your rocks off outside your relationship? I’m the latter. I don’t come by myself anymore and that makes me a much better partner to Belle. Much more focused on her and the sex we have (even when it’s all about her). But I don’t look to the language of addiction to help me make sense of that. And it’s done nothing to lessen my interest in looking at and reading porn.

In any event, it’s great that chastity has worked for you and your relationship. If this site was part of that success, then even better.

The wide world of porn

Yesterday, I tweeted:

My first exposure to porn was a brief flash of printed penis when I was young. Had to be quite young as my recollection is it happened when we lived in the first house I can remember so maybe about five years old or so. I was at a friend’s who lived with his single mom and I remember a Playgirl magazine (at least I assume that’s what it was) open to its centerfold on a chair. That was the first time I saw another guy’s dick and I remember it totally blowing me away. It wasn’t hard (since that would be vulgar), but it was big. You know, compared to a five-year-old’s, they’re all big. This entire event lasted seconds but has stuck with me my whole life.

How I started to look at porn in a serious way is almost too cliche to admit: My dad’s Playboys when I was ten or eleven or so. He stashed them in what he may have thought was a good hiding place in the bathroom, but it wasn’t. I poured over these magazines, eventually even reading them. I wasn’t just interested in seeing the woman, I wanted to get a peek into this secret world of grown-up naked stuff. The things they would never discuss with or around a kid. The first time I saw the term “cock ring” was in a Playboy and they were not fans of them (they said it was a gay thing — the Playboy editors were fairly conventionally prudish, considering). I was also unsure of the dirty Alice in Wonderland comic where Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum stood side by side with their hands in each other’s pants and the mushroom, instead of making Alice taller or shorter, made her tits so big they burst out of her pretty blue and white dress.

Soon after, I recall looking at those and other magazines with my friend Larry (who was from Florida and profoundly racist) along with some other dude from next door and me saying something about how all these naked women were fine, but seeing a guy every once in a while would be good, too. They both thought that was pretty funny and laughed at me. Like, why in the hell would you want to see a dude, dude? That was the first time I realized that maybe what I liked (re: naked people) was not what the other boys liked. Or, at least what they’d admit to liking since Larry was yet another in a long line of purportedly straight boys who was happy to have naked play time with me.

In general, I think porn is a good and natural thing. Sure, it can cause issues (like unrealistic expectations of what real sex is like and body image issues for all genders, etc.), but wanting to look at porn and enjoy it is, I think, a basic human desire. I think it has a lot to do with our fundamental inclination towards sexual promiscuity (see: Sex At Dawn). We get off seeing others fuck because we’re wired to. Anyway, I think the modern version of my dad’s Playboys is way, way better.

The thing I really appreciate about Tumblr over the hidden stash of girly mags thing is that the act of using someone else’s porn at such an early stage fixes in your mind to what’s “normal.” You have no exposure to anything else so you don’t even know there’s a spectrum of erotic imagery and words from which to partake. And then you might innocently say something like, “Gosh, it’d be nice to see a naked guy every once in a while,” to your pals and get laughed at. On Tumblr, you can find the entire breadth and depth of human sexual expression laid out before you. And that’s a social benefit.

I believe that exposure to people who are different than those your immediate life experience typically includes leads to an understanding of them and their motivations and that leads to tolerance. I’m a big fan of tolerance, as a general rule. My main Tumblr is a pretty good reflection of my interests in that it’s filled with images of men and woman and men with men and women with men and women with women. A bisexual’s paradise. Over the time I’ve been curating it, 3,403 people have chosen to follow it on Tumblr (and another couple of hundred visit its URL every day according to Google Analytics).

Typically, what happens is someone stumbles upon my stash and likes or reblogs a whole bunch of stuff all at once, along the way following me. I can see through this reblogging/liking  and visiting their own Tumblrs what kind of stuff they’re interested in and nine times out of ten, they go for one gender or the other exclusively. But they also often follow me which means they’re going to be exposed to their non-preferred gender frequently as the images I choose to include get posted. So, when they’re on the Tumblr and getting all hot and bothered and playing with their fiddly bits (or clawing at the containers covering their fiddly bits), they’re exposed to all manner of erotic stuff. Stuff inside their comfort zone, stuff outside their comfort zone, stuff they never even thought about before. And not just from me. Tumblr is littered with this stuff. I wonder how many kids today identify as flexible or bi or pan or whatever word they choose (let’s all try and get “biflexipan” in our conversation today) because they saw things on Tumblr that got them off they wouldn’t have otherwise seen had they been paging through the stuck-together pages of Dad’s magazines?

I also wonder how Tumblr is affecting women’s sexual empowerment. Boys finding their dad’s stash is pretty common (or at least it was when the stash was physical rather than virtual), but I’ve never heard it said the same was true for women. At what time was porn for women even a thing? For how many women was their first exposure to the stuff through their boyfriends or husbands? Now, they can sample the entirely of human sexual interests in their own time and follow their own bliss. They can form an idea of their sexuality prior to going out and trying to practice it in way I just don’t think was possible before. I think this is a big fucking deal.

I know my son’s looking at porn because he’s a) 16, b) a human male, and c) has internet access. I’m actually pretty happy for him that he’s coming of age in this environment and not the one I grew up in. Eventually, my daughter will start to be interested in sex as well (come on, Dad, she already is). Perhaps the easy access to porn, which bothers so many, might end up being something good for her, too.

Based on the things I’m told and hear from my peers who have kids, my thoughts on this are pretty far out there. We like to pretend our children will never be as we were. That we can keep them from seeing that sex and sexuality is a thing in the world until they get married. But I remember being young. I remember the lengths I went to to explore sex and I also remember all the things my friends were doing right along with me (and sometimes to me). Humans are sexual animals. Even the young ones. I hope being able to see all of it like they can on Tumblr will help them find themselves faster than people of my generation or older.

It’s not the size of your striatum that matters, it’s what you do with it

I keep having weird thoughts when I meet people. Not all people, but some. For guys (like this dude that was working a convenience store I happened into the other day), I wonder what kind of porn they watch. I try and pick if it’s classy or kinky or raunchy or just tasteless. I find myself sorting through various genres in my head and trying to match it to the guy in front of me. Harder than it may sound since I think one’s porn preferences are, more than anything, a mirror to one’s soul and souls are rarely on display.

I mention this because of the recent “porn makes men stupid” articles that have been floating around. This bit is from The Daily Mirror:

Too much porn can make men stupid, scientists have revealed.

A study by German researchers at the Max Planck Institute for Human Development found that men who watch a lot of porn generally have a smaller striatum.

The striatum is the part of the brain which processes ‘rewards and motivation’ – leading scientists to believe that pornography damages this function.

They can also have less grey matter, making their brains generally smaller than those of men who rarely watch it.

And I’m thinking, wait a minute. How do they know the porn makes the brains smaller? Maybe their brains were smaller to begin with and that’s why they look at the porn.

The female leading author of the study Simone Kühn, did point out however, that it isn’t clear whether X rated material is making brains smaller, or whether men with a decreased striatum tend to watch it more often.

Oh. OK. Well, at least they were thinking about that. And, you know, I look at a lot of fucking porn, so maybe my brain’s OK after all.

I don’t know if porn makes me stupid, but I can certainly feel stupid while looking at it. Sometimes, I can get lost in it and lose complete track of time. Usually, guys have a built-in governor in their orgasm that makes them stop but guys like me don’t have that. We just keep making whatever brain chemical gets made when we’re aroused (not to be confused with the other kind of fluid that leaks out of our penises) and it’s some pretty fucking potent stuff. So that’s me, the slack-jawed, glassy-eyed porn addict letting his striatum wither away as he looks at an endless Tumblr stream of raunch and sodomy.

That striatum thingy was new to me so I looked it up. According to the Wikipedia:

In humans, the striatum is activated by stimuli associated with reward, but also by aversive, novel, unexpected, or intense stimuli, and cues associated with such events.

It’s been a really long time since I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express, but that’s really interesting to me. Clearly, people like me aren’t hooked up in the typical way vis-a-vis the whole “reward and motivation” system. I’m not motivated like most people and the things I find rewarding most others would think were kinda fucked up.

In an unrelated but also kinda not turn of events, I found again this old article from The Daily Beast about cuckolding being the “intellectual sex fetish.”  I don’t know about that, but I had a hard time even finishing that article at work.

This isn’t like swinging, and it’s not a threesome. Cuckolded men (aka “cucks”) only observe their wives’ infidelities, they don’t participate. And that’s why they find it a turn-on: They’re left out, looking on as the woman they love climaxes with a better man than them. It’s a form of psychological sadomasochism. Some people get turned on by whips, chains, and physical pain. Cucks get aroused by mental anguish.

Yeah, and some of us get turned on by whips and chains and physical pain and the idea of our wive’s fucking around with other guys.

“Imagine looking at the guy who’s about to go to bed with your wife. Imagine hearing the man crying out in bed with your wife,” says Paul, who pleasures himself “like a madman” during these encounters. “The high point of cuckolding is when your wife says she wants the other guy all the time and never wants you. Sally’s body makes it very clear that this is true. It hurts me worse to know this, so it’s better to know.” Worst/best of all is watching Sally bond with the other man not only physically but emotionally—when, as Paul puts it, she’s “masturbating him with her mind.”

I wonder how the striatum is similar in kinky folk and different from the vanilla kind (if at all). Or maybe I need to stop thinking I’m on the cast of St. Elsewhere and just roll with it.

Oh, and the weird thing I think about when I meet some women is what they look like giving head. Or if they actually do give head. Or swallow. Or let their boyfriends fuck their ass. That kind of thing. So, if we ever meet, you’ll know I’m either thinking about your porn habits or imagining you with a big cock in your mouth. Sorry. Nothing personal. Can hardly control it…

Of porn and rogue vibrators

Two random things…

I’ve started a new Tumblr. One more brick in the global Thumpermedia empire. Of course, there’s the original Portfolio. When I first started curating it, I said it was a place to “collect pictures I like, but also the occasional story or even video. It’s not going to be just any porn that turns my crank, but specifically the porn that, for whatever reason, speaks to me as a submissive bisexual male.” I tend to pick pictures of men being used for sex by other men, beautiful women being beautiful, hot guys being hot, guys going down on women because pussies are awesome, and men being subjected to a variety of torturous hotness from both genders. It may appear to be a bit of a hodgepodge at first glance, but if I can place myself somehow in the scenario depicted, I will usually reblog it. For me, that’s critical. I really like to associate with the image personally in some way (and it’s not always obvious what that way is from the outside, I’m sure). Also, I’ve made the editorial decision to never show men ejaculating on the Portfolio because duh.

The second Tumblr I made was the Pit Stop. Pure dude pit porn. Very little deep thought put into it except I really have a thing for dude’s armpits. Cumshots allowed, though not the main point of the site so infrequently found.

The new one is called At least she lets you watch. This is another case of where the value of the porn for me is accentuated by trying to place myself in it. Due to my submissive tendencies, I tend not to really get off much on the images of women being fucked or otherwise appearing to be “bottoming” for a guy. But, I found that once I viewed these images through the lens of my nascent cuckolding kink, they suddenly become about a hundred times hotter for me. But they don’t fit on the Portfolio because images of MF sex there tend towards those where the woman appears to be in charge or I find the sex to be more reverential or respectful. On ALSLYW, I can freely post images of woman being complete sluts and loving it because the implication is she’s doing it with someone who’s not her husband. Convoluted, perhaps, but that’s how it works for me. Also, of course, the more cumshots the better. Especially if it’s all over her face or tits. Oh, yeah.

In a way, I think consuming porn is like going through a bucket of differently shaped pegs and seeing if they fit into any of one’s differently shaped holes. Some slip right in, some can be forced, and other just won’t work. It’s interesting to me how a simple internal change of perspective can make a peg that otherwise won’t fit suddenly work even though the peg itself hasn’t changed a bit.

Second random thing is Belle’s departure this morning for her two-week Asia trip. Much sadness. However, when I got home from the gym, she came out of the bathroom and told me she had a job for me. She gave me Pink and told me to give her new batteries so she wouldn’t have to worry about the little vibrator not working while she’s gone.

Funny story about that. We took Pink on vacation with us (and used her, too) and, upon leaving for home, I packed her in my suitcase. The suitcase went into a Jeep and then onto a ferry and then stacked in the back of a cab before being handed back to me at the airport. When I picked it up, I felt what I though was some kind of machinery vibration coming up from the ground. Thought it was weird, but didn’t stop to consider it more than that. Then, once we were checking in and about to hand over the luggage to security, I felt the vibration again. And it hit me. Pink was happily buzzing inside my suitcase. Right in the middle of the check-in area, in front of the kiosks and airline agents and fellow travelers, I laid the suitcase on its side, popped it open, and rustled around inside until I found the vibrator. It was hot. Probably a good thing I turned it off. No idea how long it had been going (had to have been a while based on its temp) or if anyone around me noticed what I was doing (doubtful), but that’s why Belle wanted me to swap out her batteries. So I dutifully shuffled off and tended to my wife’s vibrator so she could get herself off without worry while I was left at home with a locked up penis.

Finding myself

So I’m tending the porn farm and come across this (obviously, that’s a NSFW link there). And I’m thinking, Daaaaamn. That’s fucking hot. Then I think, Wait a minute. Is that…?

Turns out, I had seen that picture before. Right here. It’s me in the Jail Bird. As a guy who puts dirty pictures of himself on the internet, I do, from time to time, find those pictures regurgitated by others on the endless pornographic rotisserie that is Tumblr (usually this one, though). It’s to be expected. I’m not in any way disturbed by it (though a simple shout out of where it came from would be nice).

The thing I find funny about this is that I didn’t even recognize myself at first. And to be honest, the thing that tipped me off that it was me wasn’t the penis or the device, it was my hand in the background. Then I noticed the way the hair was clipped and how the nuts hung and it all clicked. I didn’t remember the photo since it wasn’t HNT or anything, just a quick pic demonstrating how the JB makes the penis shift into its off-center cage.

Speaking of the Jail Bird, I do admit to liking how that cage looks. There’s something about being able to see the penis behind bars (and then pushing out between the spaces in them) that really flips my switch. Alas, the JB’s A-ring post is broken (and the ring was always a bit too small anyway) so it’s not available to me. I asked Belle if I could send it back to be fixed but she prefers the Steelheart. The fact that it’s almost the exact opposite in the way it totally hides the penis. Out of sight. Gone. She doesn’t seem to like seeing it anymore. I guess that’s how it should be. How I want it. But still, I’d like to wear a real cage every now and again.

Oglaf

I have just discovered Oglaf.com, a humorous online sex comic (I was going to say “erotic”, but it’s too funny to use a word that serious on it). It is fantastic. How could you have kept it from me for so long!?

Here’s a taste for the uninitiated…

Cumsprites! How do you not love that?! Go ahead. Keep reading.