Friday, November 13, 2009

My Once and Future Domme

What a long strange trip this week has been. It began with high anticipation over the possibility of my meeting D., the strong, mercurial, fascinating, beautiful woman whom I have been hoping to enlist as a real-life (not paid) dominant mistress for many, many months. We have exchanged upwards of 200 emails over that time, exploring one another's fantasies as well as one another's sometimes odd peccadillos. I can't say that I've ever come to fully trust her--after all her screen name on the website where I first encountered her was "Sexy, Manipulative, Dangerous"--but I did develop a real dependence on her emails and a delight in her incisive view of the world in general and of the odd interactions between men and women in particular. "Consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds," Ralph Waldo Emerson famously observed and over the course of our conversations D. proved her mind to be anything but "little" as she veered from hard-boiled money-obsessed cynic to vulnerable lost child to world-weary realist all in the space of a day's worth of emails. Perhaps all that inconsistency should have put me off, but like many of my brethren, I am a sucker for a smart, fucked-up woman, particularly if she happens to be beautiful as well. So, at last--after a sizable gift from me I hasten to add--we finally were able to agree on a time to meet. The agreement was that I would be allowed to suck her lovely tits, an activity that she particularly enjoys, but nothing more. No kissing, no touching of other parts of her body, and little or no touching of me by her. This was all fine by me inasmuch as I hoped this first meeting would lead to many, many more. So it was with great excitement and even a little nervousness that I pulled my car into the parking lot where she told me to go and waited for her to find me. Within five minutes of the appointed time, a tall, dark-haired attractive woman with a killer body appeared in my side view mirror and was quickly sitting beside me in the passenger seat. My first reaction was that she looked quite a bit as I expected her to, attractive but not stunningly beautiful, with gorgeous full breasts and a tight body that must have fueled a multitude of male fantasies through the years. As I interacted with her, again as I thought she would, she came across as strong, hard, tough, with a nearly impenetrable exterior, like a beautiful, if somewhat cold, piece of polished black obsidian rock.... pretty much everything I could hope for in a Domme when you get right down to it. On the flip side, beneath that obsidian exterior, I also detected some real vulnerability and a sense of deep, turbulent waters, churning, churning....

She directed me to drive to an isolated parking lot a short distance away, then asked me, "Do you know what you are here to do?" I responded that I was to suck her sensational tits--a prospect that became only more enticing the more glances I was able to steal at her sizable but firm cleavage. "So get to it," she ordered. So began my 15 minutes or so of tasting her lovely breasts, sucking them as she instructed, with my mouth on one nipple while my hand tweaked and twisted the other. She seemed to be enjoying herself and at one point complimented me on my ability to follow instruction. As she murmured commands to me, she held each of my ears in her hands and twisted my head into the position where she wanted me, then pulled hard on my ears as I sucked away. I was in heaven. Then, for reasons utterly unknown, she suddenly stopped and told me to pull out my cock and stroke it. This came as a bit of a surprise as, although she had mentioned wanting to see my cock in the past, she had not talked about that activity as a possible feature of this first meeting. But of course I happily complied and I know she was gratified by the fact that I was already hard as a rock before my cock even saw the light of day and she expressed admiration for its size and shape. At one point after I had stroked for a couple of minutes I made a gesture towards returning to her breasts and she roughly rebuffed me, making it plain that my hands, which now had touched my own cock, were defiled and unworthy to touch any part of her. I begged her forgiveness but there was a feeling of a spell being broken somehow and she quickly turned away, pulled her shirt up and announced that "this is taking too long. I don't think you're ever going to cum." Of course I was not aware that she wanted me to cum. So again I begged her forgiveness and pleaded with her to allow me to cum. Within a matter of seconds I was able to summon a lovely orgasm and an impressively prodigious load of cum. She softened enough to praise my ability to cum on command, but after cleaning myself up, I was instructed to return to the original parking lot immediately. It was clear that she did not want me to see her car as she had me drop her off in front of a nearby supermarket and drive away. Her final comment to me was that she would email me.

I stopped for lunch after our encounter and emailed her from the restaurant to say that I had enjoyed our meeting and that I hoped I would have the chance to be with her again and learn further the proper way to please her. After one of her typically brief responses--"You're welcome"--I further queried her about another meeting and she responded that I had disobeyed her and thus had "sealed [my] own fate." After months and months of conversations, I simply could not believe that I was being so summarily dismissed, so I sent her another email (unanswered) and then another, begging her to tell me what was going on. Her final response was, "Be a gentleman and leave me alone." I have since sent her one last email just asking her to confirm for me that these brief emails mean what they seem to mean, that she wants absolutely nothing further to do with me--no emails, no more meetings with her or with her other male friends (we'd talked about my introducing some of her other men to bi activity), no contact of any sort whatsoever. I begged her for some further explanation, arguing that our many, many emails through the past year surely entitled me to that. Even if she failed to see the validity of that point, I argued, shouldn't the substantial financial contribution I made to her justify some further response as well?

I have received no answer at all. I closed the email with an expression of continuing admiration and with the hope that perhaps I am wrong and she might in the end relent and agree to pursue our somewhat twisted relationship. Might she be considering this? Not likely....

In truth, as coldblooded as I often am about my many sexual escapades, this experience left me deeply depressed, feeling stupid, manipulated, and profoundly unattractive. My answer to this emotional pain? Have one of my male admirers come over today and give me an unusually competent blow job. The total amount of time between my initial conversation online with him and his appearing on his knees before me with my long cock buried down his throat? Less than 60 minutes. What a truly bizarre life I lead...

New to the blog. Start at the beginning....

Monday, October 26, 2009

My Darling Domme

Well, it seems that I may be on the verge of actually meeting my fascinating, infuriating, elusive D., the dominant woman I have been dying to meet and submit to for six months or so. The reasons for my near obsession with her are many and various. First of all, she is a genuinely and naturally dominant woman; I learned this from interacting with her for some time, long before we discovered we had a mutual interest in dominance and submission. Second, she is smart and creative and very, very sexually curious. Third, she seems to possess a libido as active as my own--could she be a fellow addict?--which suggests a driven quality capable of overcoming the sometimes difficult logistics associated with two married people like us. It also suggests that, for her anyway, while she no doubt will enjoy the thrill of sheer dominance, of being able to tell me precisely what she wants me to do, there will also always be a strong sexual component involved, which of course is just the way I like it.

For our first session, she wants to instruct me precisely how to suck, massage, and manipulate her gorgeous ample breasts, while simultaneously stimulating her nether regions with her rabbit vibrator. I am not to touch myself or expect any direct sexual stimulation whatsoever, though of course a guy can dream. The final logistics remain to be ironed out but I am hopeful that at last I will meet this amazing woman.

On other fronts, C. and I have decided not to pursue anything. I know I am going to sound like a pig with this comment--if the shoe fits, so be it--but she seemed to want me to work a lot harder to have sex with her than I am really willing to do with someone to whom I am simply not attracted at all. B. and I continue to talk and I am still hopeful of having sex with her again one of these days. But, believe it or not, I really do value her friendship and respect her enormously as a person, so I am not going to do anything to jeopardize the nice relationship we have. Of course the sex with her was without question some of the best I've ever experienced so I will continue to gently urge her toward a renewal of relations...

In the meantime, I have had sex with two different men, both of whom were a cut above the recent collection of men I've met with, which was a nice change of pace. The second one in particular, a man I met with two or three years ago, was actually quite a turnon. He had lost 30 pounds since our last meeting and gotten pretty buff--much of the improvement coming from a brief stint in jail amazingly enough--and he *really* wanted to meet.... Our session was held in an unoccupied part of an office building, where I found him naked and jerking off in one of the empty offices. He wanted me to dominate him, which I did, forcing him to swallow my cock and eventually standing over him and shooting a load all over his naked chest. I also got a chance to explore his entire body as he presented himself to be fucked--I did not do so--in a variety of positions. I generally do not get into fucking men very much, but with this guy I may make an exception. The other guy was in pretty good shape as well but, after promising to give me a great blow job, was disappointingly limited in his oral technique, seemingly able to only handle 3 or 4 inches of my cock down his throat. I might give him another try, but more likely in a group than one on one...

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Red-letter day

You just never know what the day may bring. As an addict, I always remain alert to the possibilities, I always check my various sources, I always make every effort to remain in touch with all the candidates I am working at any particular moment, and then, often with the blood boiling in my veins, I wait. And I hope. And I search. Many days--no, most days--end in frustration with next to nothing to show for my efforts other than the small residual pleasure to be derived from the sense that I am leaving no stone unturned, no possibility unexplored. But on other very rare days, like this one, the planets seem to position themselves in such perfect alignment that everything seems to fall in place. Let me catalog the day:

D., my dominant woman friend to whom I have been dying to submit has agreed to accept my gift ($$) and meet with me. The expenditure of funds--a one-time thing I am reasonably certain--was a bit painful, but the reward is potentially truly fabulous. She describes herself as possessing extremely sensitive breasts, and during our first session she wants me to arouse her with my mouth and hands on her lovely nipples and her wondrously pendulous breasts. (I have seen pictures.) If I perform this task reasonably well, she may place her shaven pussy on my mouth as well and allow me to suck her and taste her and cover my face with her luscious and hopefully copious juices. My sense is that she derives great pleasure from such sessions.... and my hope is that this might perhaps be the first of many....

A new candidate, let's call her C., agreed to meet me today. With a genuine errand to run, I was able to get out of the office and meet her at the location we selected together, a local park. She is significantly overweight, but pretty, and though uncertain at first, I became fully won over when we kissed and I found myself instantly hard. I have actually not heard back from her yet, but I feel confident she will want to meet and will want me to fuck her. I also have this sense that she will be *extremely* passionate... for now I greatly enjoyed the making out, and the foretaste of what may be to come...

After leaving her, I texted my old friend B., whom I truly adore, and was able to meet her for a quick conversation and a little making out too, before heading back to the office. She is so sexy, so sweet, so smart--I wish I could find a way to see more of her and I wish the relationship was not so intrinsically lopsided. She needs a real relationship... and the man who ends up having one with her will be one extremely lucky guy... for now we are not having sex... but of course I continue to hope she may change her mind... Kissing her was bliss and there is no question about the ongoing mutual desire we still have for one another... but for now she is abstaining.

Finally, I got back to the office to find multiple frantic messages from two men I have been chatting with, both of them available and wanting to meet asap. My faithful readers surely know my response to that, which was to invite them both over and engage in an oral threesome. One of them actually turns me on quite a bit for a man, in part because of his nice tight body, but also due to his amazing ability to generate truly porn-worthy massive cum shots, with his emissions--as many as 7 or 8--often traveling as much as 5-10 feet. Why is that feat such a turnon for me? Who can understand these things? But it is, and I usually shoot pretty hard myself immediately after witnessing one of his prodigious orgasms. I certainly did today. The third guy is considerably less attractive but he has a nice thick cock that is fun to play with and he seemed to function as a good complement to my hotter friend and me. Of course, I would much preferred to have met with any one of the three women discussed above, but all the making out had me very horny and I needed a release. As is often the case, men proved to be the pathway of least resistance.

So there you have it... one candidate (D.) nearing paydirt, so to speak, another (C.) with a very promising beginning, and a third (B.) kept simmering, hopefully for another day. Finally there were the reliable guys to get me off in the end when I needed it.

I've certainly had much better sex... but I've rarely had a day as potentially productive as this one. Welcome to my strange little world.

New to the blog? Start at the beginning.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Sex on Venus & Mars

Here is a typical IM/email exchange with a potential male sex partner that, based on his online profile and pictures, I find at least somewhat attractive:

Him: Hey, great cock, I'd love to suck it. (Sometimes he will want to get fucked, a desire that would entail a longer conversation--I very rarely fuck men.)
Me: Sounds good, you look hot too. Where are you?
Him: About 10 minutes away. Can you host?
Me: Yeah, are you d/d free and sure of it?
Him: Absolutely
Me: When can you be here?
Him: I just need to shower, I can be there in 35 minutes. OK?
Me: Yeah, call me on my cell at xxx-xxx-xxxx when you get here.
Him: Hot, talk to you then.

That's it--deal done. Within the hour he will be on his knees happily sucking me off. If I really do find him attractive, which is pretty rare, I will initiate a more active session, with body contact, mutual oral, and even (rarely) kissing if he has a particular look that turns me on. In any case, the session is not likely to last much longer than 15-20 minutes. If it is reasonably good, there is a decent chance we will have a return engagement. If not, we will part company and never speak or communicate in any way whatsoever again.

I suspect that my female readers, with some exceptions I'm sure, will find this scenario alien and, for the most part, repellent. I am currently hoping to connect with a woman from one of my feeder sites, who is quite open about her desire for a relationship based almost entirely on sex, but even she wants to chat, get to know me a bit, share a meal, etc., before jumping into the sack with me. (In her case, I do think there is a chance the first meeting will lead to sex that day, but no meeting will take place until we've communicated online quite a bit.) And, when we get to the main event, I can absolutely guarantee that the sex will last at least an hour--considerably longer if our schedules permit--and will involve pretty much every body part each of us possesses.

For me, the dynamics are pretty simple. I would much prefer the fuller, more mutual, extended experience with a woman to whom I am fully attracted and whom I find compelling as a human being. But I am indeed an addict, and, to paraphrase Stephen Stills, if I can't be with the one I love, I will, most certainly and with very little hesitation, love the one I'm with...

The nature versus nurture debate, particularly applied to gender, is never ending and in all probability is not amenable to solution anyway, but even granting the conditioning girls go through to encourage attention to interpersonal issues, I cannot believe that there is not a strong innate biological basis for these starkly different approaches to sexuality. I'd love some feedback on this one....

By the way, though I would never be so presumptuous as to even hint that I am in any way unique, I am guessing that my level of experience with both men and women is relatively rare. Even assuming that bisexuality (and its many, many gradations) is more common than most people think--and I most certainly think that it is--you'd have to slice that population a good bit smaller yet to find the sex addicts in the mix, and I suspect you'd come up with a pretty small group that has had the level of experience on both sides of the gender divide that I have. So I guess I qualify as at least somewhat of an expert.... For whatever the hell that is worth, which probably isn't much.

Sugasm 174

Sugasm #174

Veronica Zemanova courtesy of Bad Girl’s Hotbox.

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #175? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

5 things I have learned from customers last week at the adult store

“Attractive men typically buy the freakiest toys on the market.”

Doctor’s Visit

“Reach back and spread your cheeks for me”


“Recently it was in a more public venue.”

Sugasm Editor


Editor’s Choice

A Race to the Finish

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Erotic Writing & Experiences

An Afternoon With The Ex

Being a Stranger, Being Fucked rough


Designated Cock

The Display

The Fantasy And The Reality


I Just Want to Watch

Killer Heels - Red Satin Skirt

My G-Spot does exist- HER perspective

Library Offences

Nothing is sacred

Staying After Class


Teachers Pet

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio

24/7 BDSM

Danielle Lloyd Topless and All Nude For Nuts - September 2009


Spanking High Impact!

Spanking in the workshop

Strapped on her bare ass!!!

Veronika Zemanova

When The Sunflowers Bloom (HNT)

BDSM & Fetish

Be Careful What You Wish For

In the Dungeon with dangerous: Notes from Dark Odyssey Summer Camp

Knife Play

Lessons Learned (2/2)

The Long Awaited Demo

The M/s Relationship~Fact or Fiction

More Fun with Clothespins

Sub space and sex before bed


Wake Up

Sex Advice

Bareback sex = better sex?

How to Give Your Woman an Orgasm during Intercourse

Trans girl sex: I’m a clumsy asshole

News, Reviews & Interviews

20 Questions With Courtney Trouble

Lelo Gigi

Tres, Dos…nah, Uno

Thoughts on Sex & Relationships


Sex with Dopey

Without any choice in the matter.

Filed Under

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Bad Sex

There is a school of thought, particularly among those on the masculine side of the gender divide, that there is no such thing as bad sex as long as the session culminates in an orgasm. Having engaged in literally hundreds of liaisons, let me strongly disagree. If you've read any reasonable proportion of my posts, you've come to know that I am, to say the least and to put the matter most charitably, easy. When faced with no sex or unappetizing sex, I will almost always opt for the latter. My recent session with Dopey, my tryst with the grossly obese couple, and my group grope with an unattractive collection of middle aged men, all attest to this very pronounced tendency of mine. It is indeed one of the genuine hallmarks of the sex addict. I will confess that in the midst of these encounters I even sometimes find myself turned on by the sheer perversity of the situation and by my own ludicrously hyper-driven libido, which manages to propel me through some pretty bizarre encounters. Well, for the record, even I have my letdowns.

Yesterday, on the spur of the moment, I accepted an invitation to join two men in a threesome that at least held the promise of some excitement. The host was a man I had chatted with before, who seemed to have at least a couple of characteristics--he is fit, with a decently large cock--that I find attractive in men. His friend was almost completely unknown, other than the fact that he is young, which can sometimes be a turnon for me. This was actually the first all-male threesome I'd attended in which I had never met either of the partners involved. Perhaps I should learn from the experience. I arrived in the older man's very nice apartment--is it inappropriate when engaging in group sex to find oneself distracted by a handsome prewar apartment building and a gorgeously appointed apartment?--to find both men naked, the younger one lying on his back on the bed, passively accepting oral service from the older one. I was briefly greeted by the older man, who immediately returned to his strenuous oral ministrations on his friend, leaving me unsure as to how to proceed. Even in the relative gloom of the bedroom, I could tell that neither man was particularly attractive. Some men might have left of course. I, on the other hand, removed my clothes. Eventually the older man took a break from his friend on the bed and dropped to his knees to service me. His oral technique could best be described as a one-speed vacuum cleaner approach, with intense, constant, and almost painfully hard sucking seemingly being his one and only approach to the problem of my less than entirely hard cock. After a bit of work produced little or no improvement, he returned to his friend. I moved to the other side of the bed in hopes of engaging the younger man in some--in any--kind of interaction, but he simply lay motionless, like some gigantic blow-up sex doll, passively receiving his friend's enthusiastic servicing. I found next to nothing appealing about him--he was overweight and his cock was average sized at best. (His friend was able to deepthroat him with no effort whatsoever.) I returned to my station beside the bed, the older man returned to me, and eventually my cock sprung to full life, a situation which did not cause my service specialist to alter his one-note approach in the least. Eventually I lay down on the bed next to passive sex-doll boy and stroked his cock while the older man brought me off to an admittedly copious orgasmic release. "There are towels in the bathroom if you want one," my host told me, speaking 10 of the approximately 20 words spoken during the entire encounter. I went to the bathroom, cleaned up, quickly put on my clothes, and with little more than a wave, was out the door and gone.

While many men are terrified of their own latent homosexuality and react to even a hint of same-sex attraction by going to a bar, watching several football games, and getting into a fight with the biggest guy they can find, I am of the opposite mind and am disappointed to find myself confronted with more and more evidence that I am really not all that attracted to men. For a sex addict, this is very bad news, since such a conclusion, if allowed to become determinative, will severely limit the number of sex partners available. Men are just so damned easy, so plentiful, so open to meeting at the drop of a hat, that shutting the door on them seems just too painful to even consider. Any reasonably thoughtful non-addict would have accepted this conclusion a long time ago, of course. But somehow I keep hoping that the next man will be different, that I will eventually find the holy grail, i.e. a man just as slutty as I am, with a hard smooth body, a big cock, and an attraction to me as strong as mine to him. The incredible thing is how this search continues in spite of the now massive quantities of evidence suggesting its futility. I would guess that I have had sex of one sort or another with some 200 men or so.... and I can count on one hand the number that I was genuinely attracted to. This compares to my experience with women, virtually **all** of whom I was easily and effortlessly attracted to. What does that tell you about my general sexual predilections? But, as I've said often, in a pinch, a sex addict will take what he can get, and often the easiest solution is a man. In spite of all my equivocating, I suspect that will continue....

Thank God, there appear to be two new female candidates, one of them very promsing indeed. Sadly M. seems to be slipping away, with serious issues at home dominating her time and her emotional energy. (Can you believe it? Someone for whom the promise of an intense and pleasurable sexual experience is not the sole determinant of her behavior? Bizarre!) Of course I will stay in touch, but I'm not optimistic about the situation. More on the new candidates as soon as I know more.....

Monday, September 28, 2009

Sex with Dopey

I do not find him even remotely attractive. He has a goofy face that puts me strongly in mind of Dopey, the least appealing member of the seven dwarfs. (How's that for an entertaining parlor game? Which of the seven dwarfs would you actually agree to have sex with?) His body is shaved but oddly pudgy in spite of his relative lack of fat. He is short, perhaps 5'6", and his cock is misshapen and oddly proportioned. He also has some filthy predilections, including a desire to have me defecate on his face. (I make no judgments on this fetish, but find it repulsive nonetheless.) Put another way, he has none of the characteristics that I sometimes find attractive in men. And yet, I respond to his incessant demands to meet, his endless emails in praise of my large cock, by continuing to meet with him and allowing him to suck me off. The only way I can derive even a frisson of genuine excitement out of these meetings is by being somewhat abusive to him during our sessions, which of course is precisely what he wants. So I shove him around, slapping his ass, twisting his nipples with considerable force, and holding his head firmly as I ram my entire length down his throat, causing him to gag and nonetheless ask for more. Throughout this process, he continually murmurs effusive endearments to my cock as he begs me to feed him more and more. I received a swooning email from him after our session on Friday indicating that my load was the largest he had ever swallowed in his life. (I had not cum in two weeks.) While he fantasizes about our sessions--sometimes reliving them through a video I allowed him to shoot (no faces shown)--I rush home to the shower, frantically soaping my entire body to remove even a trace of his saliva from my body. Who but an addict would indulge in this behavior? In the end I am left with a deep sense of shame. In the midst of all our blogging efforts to entice readers with the most appealing erotic descriptions possible--many of them highly embellished I suspect--how often do we address the emotions aroused by some of our less savory behaviors?

Of course I am in no position whatsoever to take the moral high ground here as I am under no illusion that my addiction will not continue to drive me forward, in spite of any ethical qualms I may be harboring. And here is an unanswerable question: Why is it that my shame is triggered by Dopey but not by my liaisons with women, or even by many of my meetings with more attractive men? Is there something particularly shameful about my ability to get it up for anything that moves?

New to the blog? Start at the beginning....

Friday, September 18, 2009

A Trip to Nowhere

Wow... nothing like too much real work to keep me from my blog. My apologies for the week's lapse since my last post. Sad to report, my trip last week proved to be a study in frustration. The average person, endowed with a healthy but normal libido, might have made some cursory effort to hook up on the road but would have calmly accepted the logistical issues that prevented a connection and moved on with their life largely unperturbed. But for the addict, particularly a married one like me, for whom the logistics at home frequently pose such daunting obstacles, the intense need to connect when on the road can often feel like a brake-less freight train raging through my veins without pause. In this case, my frustration was enhanced by what seemed initially like some highly promising sources of potential success, most notably two--yes, two--couples expressing great desire to meet during my visit. I had been speaking with one of them for several months, while the other popped up after a quick perusal of the local area craigslist postings. When push came to shove, however--I wish there had been some real pushing and shoving--neither couple came through. The first simply disappeared for reasons unknown and the second had thought I was staying through Friday night, which turned out to be their only available time to meet. In desperation, I turned to men as I am wont to do, and had two of them flake out on me as well... Very, very disappointing. In the end, I masturbated three times, once by making the most out of a very nice water pik shower head in my hotel room; any of you who have not discovered the stimulating properties of those wonderful aquatic surges are missing out on some sublime sensations. Properly positioned, with the jet pulsing at just the right speed, and directed quite precisely at the most sensitive spot on the head of my cock, the water can make me cum all on its own. Even though you are controlling the action, the sensation is still a bit like getting a great hand job inasmuch as the water almost feels like an outside agency unrelated to yourself.

I returned to several emails from potential candidates, all of whom seem to present some logistical challenges, so I'm not sure whether any of them will pan out. My dominant friend, D., seems to have disappeared. My friend, M., with whom I shared a wonderful afternoon, has gone largely quiet too. And B., with whom I have had sex on and off for several years, now seems loathe to meet, though we do remain good friends. What is an addict to do? Keep hunting of course. According to the timetable given to me by P., the woman who summarily rejected me upon discovering that I was not as young as she had hoped (in spite of my being entirely clear about my age from the start) and who later surprised me by expressing some interest nonetheless, it is time for me to get back in touch. We'll see about that one. And, as always, there are plenty of men hoping to connect....

New to the blog? Start at the beginning....

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Sex on the Road

I am off on a business trip tomorrow, which means a rare opportunity to host potential sexual partners in my hotel room. I'm a bit behind the eight-ball due to Labor Day weekend, but I will try to make up for lost time today by checking all my feeder sites for potential partners in the city to which I will be traveling. I've been there before and actually have some potentials I will contact immediately in hopes of connecting on one of the two night I'll be there. The calculations frequently become a bit tortured since there is a definite hierarchy of availability. At the top of the chain, representing the gold standard if you will, are women who might be traveling to the same city or who live there and are seeking a one- or perhaps two-night stand. These are extremely difficult to find. Next are the female escorts who are easy to find but of course involve a potential expenditure of funds I may not feel comfortable making at this point. Finally, at the bottom of the totem pole are the men, who are cheap (free) and plentiful and relatively easy to connect with, but whom I find considerably less interesting, unless of course they possess some truly outstanding attribute like a chiseled smooth body or an exceptionally large cock. With a flight tomorrow morning and fairly limited time during my stay, I have only so much time to devote to the search. What's a sex addict to do? How much effort should I put into the search for the gold standard, given the relatively low likelihood of success? Do I feel secure enough in my financial situation to consider the paid option? And just how far am I willing to lower my standards in terms of men to find a partner? (Needless to say, as the adage goes about closing time in the bars, all the potentials get a lot better looking come midnight on my second and last night in town.)

Meanwhile, things have picked up here at home, with three legitimate female candidates suddenly in the picture. The pictures I have seen of two of them do not fill me with overwhelming desire, but when it comes to women I can be very easily turned on, so I will probably pursue all the options. The third seems the most interesting to me for a variety of reasons. She seems to be the smartest of the three; she is also tall, which is a turnon; and she seems very savvy about the nature of these connections and what she can and cannot expect to gain from them. All very appealing indeed.

See Sugasm #172 in the post below this one. It is a compilation of some of the best sex-oriented blogging available. I encourage you to check it out....


Sugasm #172

HNT courtesy of Sweat Shop Sissy.

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #173? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

A Hot Fuck in a Parking Lot

“We got more daring and soon clothes were a hindrance to our insistent hands.”

I Think I’d Rather Misbehave

“I bet the secret thrill of this has your cock already climbing to attention.”

The Painter

“He says something, small talk, and I stutter something back, lost in the blue depths of his eyes.”

Sugasm Editor


Editor’s Choice

Yet Another Reason You Should Buy a Vibrator

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Erotic Poetry

Enigmatic dance

Loved It.

Erotic Writing & Experiences

24 Hours To Cum

Be Careful What You Wish For…


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Wednesday, September 2, 2009

All Quiet on the Sexual Front

Late August tends to be a slow time for everything, doesn’t it? Little or no business, no playdates for my child, no playmates for me. All my potential partners are away or laying low for some reason. I continue to woo M. in hopes of another meeting.... D. has finally worn me out with her continual requests for money, money, money.... none of the men hold any interest for me.... I am only two weeks into the month I am required to wait before recontacting P., the woman who rejected me once, then told me to check back later.... and no new prospects are appearing through my usual roster of websites.... Thankfully my libido seems to be somewhat subdued at the moment, a very unusual development for me, but one that makes the paucity of opportunities a good bit more acceptable. I have no illusions whatsoever about any of this being a permanent state of affairs. Even the slightest encouragement from any number of directions is likely to boost my semi-dormant libido into its much more characteristic overdrive.

Perhaps this is a good time to respond to a particularly astute reader, who sent me this comment on my last post: “I’ve never been very interested in any D/s play, but your post has really piqued my interest. I'm consistently impressed with your willingness to go to whatever lengths necessary to up the ante, even though I have to imagine that it simply can't be any better for you than an addiction to something like drugs or alcohol.”

I’ve actually thought a great deal about this comparison of sexual addiction to alcoholism or drug addiction. For a time I attended a 12-step program devoted to sex addiction, which proved to be an extremely interesting and educational experience even if it failed to stop my many sexual excesses. An astounding number of the participants were former alcoholics and drug addicts. And many of them described the effort to free themselves of their addiction to sex as much, much more difficult than their struggles with booze, cocaine, and even heroin. Many of them also had come to see the sexual addiction as to some extent the most fundamental of their addictions and the one that over the course of their lives had come to feed all the others. Needless to say, this puts the lie to the notion that sex addicts are just weak-willed self-centered hedonists who adopt the label of “addict” as an easy excuse for their behavior. A great many of the people I met in “the rooms” were miserably unhappy and desperately trying to find a way to prevent their “acting out” from destroying their lives any further than it already had. I admired their honesty and their bravery—and I still do.

The difference between an addiction to sex and an addiction to any external substance, of course, is that the sexual drive is an integral part of the human personality, something that simply cannot be denied for any length of time without doing other sorts of violence to the psyche. Hence my difficulty with the approach calling for total abstinence—even from masturbation—taken by many in the 12-step sex addiction community. Somehow I have found a way to make the addiction and the behaviors associated with it manageable. How is it that I’ve been able to accomplish that while so many others have become caught in an inescapable downward spiral into self-destruction? I won’t even attempt an answer to that except to suggest that I believe, contrary to much of the rhetoric in the 12-step recovery community, that addicts are *not* all alike, that addicts emerge from dramatically different contexts, that addicts come to their variety of compulsive behaviors from a wide variety of circumstances, and that addicts cope with their ailment in a wide variety of ways. The classic opening 12-step statement—"Hi, my name is Charlie, and I’m a sex addict”— and the inevitable response from the group—“Hi, Charlie!”—are meant to imply a solidarity among group members and to reinforce the commonality of experience all addicts are supposed to share. But is it really true? Listening to the stories, I could always identify with the feelings—frustration, pain, guilt, helplessness—but the experiences and the individual’s modes of behavior always seemed very, very individual, at least to me.

More on the 12-step programs later......

New to the blog? Start at the beginning....

Friday, August 28, 2009

Cocks and mistresses and flogging, oh my.....

Well, as I had hoped, my former mistress (paid)—let's call her F.—did indeed contact me again today as she had said she would yesterday. And, needless to say, I found a way to lie my way out of work for an hour or so to join her. Unlike the professional dungeon where I used to meet her in the city, her new location is pretty much a straightforward apartment setting, but she had nonetheless instructed me in her email to follow normal procedures, which meant leaving her fee—significantly reduced in this case—on the table near the door, then stripping naked in her living room and getting on all fours as I attended her arrival. I knew from past experience that I was not to look at her unless instructed, so I kept my eyes lowered as I heard the staccato of stiletto approaching across her uncarpeted hardwood floor (tough on the knees). "Look at me, slave," she instructed, and I raised my eyes to find the same beautiful young woman I remembered, decked out in skin tight leather pants and a snug leather bodice that barely contained her truly impressive and, I hasten to add, all natural melon-shaped breasts. Just overweight enough to give her the heft needed to push her submissives around, and blessed with beautiful liquid brown eyes and long dark red hair, she remains my alltime favorite among the several paid dominatrices I have visited through the years. "Come here," she ordered and I responded by crawling over to her on my knees. Leaning down just enough to offer me a luscious view of her alpine cleavage, she attached a leather dog collar and leash around my neck and then jerked my head forward between her magnificent breasts. "Stop drooling, slut, these are not for you." She giggled a little as she released my head, then put one of her sharp heels on my shoulder and shoved me hard, sending me sprawling on to the floor. For an addict like me, this was like a deep, intoxicating hit of a favorite drug and the adrenaline that began shooting rapidly through my veins seemed to flow en masse to my cock which became instantly rock hard. "God, you're like a dog in heat," she said to me as she gazed at my unavoidable erection. "Get up!" After struggling to my feet as quickly as possible—orders must be obeyed with alacrity—she walked behind me, fastened a black silk blindfold around my head, then led me by the leash into what was apparently another room. "Do you feel this leather table behind you? Lie down on it on your back. Now!" Again I complied as quickly as I could. "Good boy," she said, leaning over me and taking one of my nipples between two of her surprisingly sharp fingernails and pinching just hard enough to elicit a gasp of pain from me. "Now don't move until I return." Within minutes I heard the sound of whispering and nervous laughter from a male arrival at the door to the apartment. Soon after that, F. and her other submissive entered the room. "This is Sampson," she said. "You are not to try to see him, but you should know that he is be beautiful, and slim, and smooth, just the way I know you like your boys. Sampson, is he acceptable?" A pause. "Oh, he must like you, he has rejected so many others." I heard the movement of bodies and I suspected that she was arranging Sampson where she wanted him. Then she took my hand and put it on some flesh that I quickly came to realize was his rapidly hardening cock. "Now suck his cock." I gladly complied, managing to see around my blindfold enough to tell that Sampson did indeed have a very nice body, though a smaller than average cock. F. expressed admiration for my oral abilities and within literally 2 minutes Sampson was shooting down my throat. I decided to simply continue sucking as I grabbed his ass to keep his cock inside my mouth. He softened only slightly and inside another 5 minutes he was coming again, rather voluminously, particularly given the fact that he had cum for the first time only minutes before. With F. egging me on to continue as she pinched my nipples, and occasionally flogged my stomach, I again forced Sampson to keep his cock inside and again he rapidly got very hard again, and came yet a third time. "Let him go now," she told me and I let his cock slip from my mouth as our boy Sampson let a sigh of satisfaction escape his lips. Other than that sigh, and the sound of his quickening breaths as he approached orgasm, he made no sound at all during the entire session and apparently quickly dressed and left after coming the third time. F. continued to express admiration for my skills as she bound my ankles and wrists to the table and climbed aboard herself. Teasing me by grazing her nipples across my lips, and alternating pinches of my nipples with painfully hard squeezes to my cock and balls, she expertly tortured me while keeping me fully provoked. After 10 or 15 minutes of this delicious treatment, she ordered me to jerk off. "That's it, stroke it, you slut! Faster! Harder! Now cum for me. Now!" Arching my body upwards against the restraints that held me pinned to the table, I shot an enormous load all over myself as she looked on laughing. "Good boy," she said, with a smile as she untied the restraints and threw me a towel. "Get yourself cleaned up, your clothes are in the living room. Get dressed and get out. I may use you this way again." With that benediction, she spun on her heels and disappeared into the inner recesses of the apartment, never to appear again.

Needless to say, this has been a very good day.....

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Sex Addiction and S&M: A Match Made in Heaven

Let's face it, most of us genuine sex addicts have some issues with self-esteem. Always remember that at the root of the addict's behavior lies this very very fundamental reality. An addict will tell you that he loves sex—the sheer sensation of it, the indescribable joy of that body-shuddering, eye-rolling, mind-obliterating orgasm—and of course he does. But what he or she finds most wondrous about it in many ways is that last "mind-obliterating" part and the way in which sex can take us out of ourselves and offer us an escape from the sometimes overwhelming burden of our frequently fragile egos. The other driver of the addict’s need for more and more sexual partners is often an almost insatiable need for validation, for new and different lovers to assure him, through that most fundamental act of sex, that he is in fact a worthy human being. Bizarre, yes, but very common.

Given all that strange dysfunction, is it any surprise that many of us addicts simply love being submissive and get incredibly turned on by being beaten nearly senseless? I know I do. Through the years, I've searched high and low for the dominant woman who would provide this to me free of charge, but generally my experiences have come with a price tag attached. Yesterday, a former paid mistress of mine got in touch to let me know that she has moved to a location much closer to me, and to elicit my interest in a tantalizing scenario involving another male client of hers who would like to explore his bi curiosity in the context of their dominant/submissive relationship. She is even offering me a substantial discount off her usual fee in exchange for my involvement. Needless to say, I am very interested indeed. This may take place as soon as tomorrow afternoon and I will certainly blog about it if it does. The fantasy reel begins to run in earnest in my fevered brain.... We live for this anticipation.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

The ebb and flow.....

My friend M., with whom I had a very satisfying tryst a month ago, has returned from her vacation feeling a bit down and less than certain if and when she wants to meet again. I'm not sure whether this comes from guilt—though she once professed to me a very European view of one's ability to be a good spouse while still having dalliances with others—or perhaps simply from a normal post-vacation letdown as the responsibilities of the workaday world return in force and her demanding children and husband begin again to make her feel diminished, put upon, and ultimately neglected. I'm betting that her libido will return within a couple of weeks and that we will meet again. But of course, one never knows for sure. Naturally I will keep in touch.

Meanwhile D., whom I have never met—she did send me a shot from her phone showing her flashing her magnificent breasts at the camera—continues to send highly mixed signals. My sense is that she finds me interesting and smart, but remains reticent because I do not adequately fulfill the other criteria on her checklist. (She likes blondes, which I'm not; prefers men over 6', which I'm not; and is highly attracted to guys in finance with substantial bank balances, which I certainly do not possess at the moment. The only thing I do have which is on her list is a large cock.) I suspect that her interest in me, in the way I think, in the way I respond to her, actually has been a bit of a surprise to her and she is trying to figure out just what she wants to do with me. She has told me I have no chance to be her lover, but that she likes the idea of treating me as a submissive, a role that nonetheless would definitely involve a sexual element. She seems to want to meet me, but then will pull back, apparently uncertain about how to proceed. She will send me highly explicit, sexually provocative emails, only to withdraw on a subsequent day, seemingly unaware of the provocation she sent me just the day before. Her on again, off again attitude can become tiresome, but there is something about her intelligence and strength that keeps drawing me back. (And, yes, those breasts have something to do with it too...)

She continues to ask me for an expensive gift, which seems to be an absolute prerequisite in her book, and I will probably indulge her in that regard, at least this once. Am I simply being manipulated for cash? Will we meet in September? That is the current plan.....

Oh, one more party heard from. Remember P., the woman who took one look at me and concluded that I was too old? I sent her an email asking if she had found the young boy toy she was seeking and she emailed me back saying, "Yes, but try me back in a month. I may be bored." Bizarre, yes, but in spite of it all, would I fuck her? Absolutely.... She is just screwed up enough to make me very interested.....

Friday, August 21, 2009

Be Careful What You Wish For....

One distinguishing mark of the addict is the endless search for new experience, for a higher high, if you will. For substance abusers, this often means progressing from softer to harder and more dangerous drugs. For sex addicts it means a pretty much limitless willingness to experiment with sexual couplings of every imaginable sort. Sometimes this experimentation bears fruit, and the addict is led down avenues of new sexual thrills he or she had never even considered before. (Dominance and submission was an area I have found very interesting through the years, for example.) On other occasions, the experience falls so short of the fantasy that the addict is left shaking his head, wondering what in heaven's name provoked him to try *that* in the first place. For years I have wanted to experience a male-female-male (mfm) threesome, ideally with all three participants at least somewhat interested in sensual contact with everyone else. Given my many encounters, it's kind of amazing that I've never experienced this before. (I've come close on many occasions, but somehow the logistics have always gotten in the way. Just within the past three months, I've spoken to several couples interested in having me join them.*)

In any case, yesterday afternoon I received an invitation from a couple I had been in touch with for several months. They hardly represent my ideal, since both of them are clearly significantly overweight, with the husband referring to himself as a "bear" and the wife as a "BBW." But given my inability to successfully meet with any of the other couples I've chatted with through the years, I was loathe to pass on the opportunity, so I accepted. Now, just for the record, let me say that I have no prejudice against overweight people. I am often attracted to women who are less than perfectly fit and I have never for a moment been deterred by adjectives like "Rubenesque" or "zaftig" or even "plump." (I have never really been attracted in any way shape or form to seriously overweight men. Sorry.) But the term BBW—which stands for "big beautiful woman"—now appears to encompass everything from women just 15-20 pounds overweight to those grossly obese and needing to lose something more on the order of 100 pounds. I understand the desire to escape the tyranny of the skinny model and reject the ridiculously unrealistic body image that women have foisted upon them from a very early age. But, I'm sorry, a woman who is 5'3" and weighs 240 pounds is fat, period. I might find her a wonderful person, I might greatly enjoy talking to her, I might laugh mightily at her jokes and enjoy her wit, but under most circumstances I will *not* want to have sex with her. Does this make me some kind of a sexist?

Upon arriving at my hosts' ranch-style home, I was greeted by a naked man and woman of truly gargantuan proportions, the woman surely weighing in at 220+ and the man closer to 300 pounds I would guess. Their family room, which is where she had been entertaining other guys for some two hours before my arrival, was strewn with beer bottles, empty Doritos bags, and various gigantic articles of clothing apparently belonging to my hosts. Although her previous paramours had departed the premises, the female half of the team was clearly still very much in lust, and more than ready for another round as she set upon me like a ravenous wolf on an unsuspecting sheep. What's a guy to do? (Hey, I’m an addict, remember?) I let her have her way with me and, within minutes, I was naked and hard as a rock—I do love that Viagra—as she expertly took my cock down her surprisingly deep throat. The husband settled his substantial girth in a nearby chair and began masturbating as his greedy eyes took in the scene before him. Both offered appreciative comments on the size of my cock—apparently my predecessors had been disappointingly endowed—and quite soon the husband was offering me a condom and the wife was begging me to fuck her. (Normally I prefer to spend substantial time exploring a woman’s body with my hands and my mouth before proceeding to intercourse, but in this case the evidence of previous explorations as well as the difficulty in actually finding certain of my favorite spots made this approach somewhat moot. Furthermore, when a woman is literally screaming, "Fuck me! Fuck me!" at the top of her lungs, I generally find it wisest to comply.) Some men might have fled, some men might have wilted, some men might have feigned illness. Not me. Onward I plunged, fucking her for a good hour, and in several positions—the shift from one to another was more than a bit labored—while she moaned in ecstasy beneath me, beside me, and, yes fearful reader, even on top of me. One interesting component of the experience was her ability to "squirt" when she came, a phenomenon I had heard about but not yet experienced. Since she came three times with me inside her, I was thrice soaked by this surprisingly strong flood of fluid that issued forth from her like some internal fountain brought to life by the power of lust. Her husband happily continued to jerk off throughout the session, occasionally struggling to his feet to put his cock inside his wife's willing mouth whenever our position made such activity feasible and eventually cumming twice down her throat while I was fucking her. In the end, as requested, I pulled out of her, ripped off my condom, and shot my load all over her massive breasts.

What can I say? It was different, it was novel—and, yes, it was kind of gross. I received an email today thanking me for attending and hoping that we could get together again soon. Will I return? Believe it or not, I really don't think I will. But as for the other allegedly fit couple I've been corresponding with? Yes, in a heartbeat.

*Being well hung seems to be almost a sine qua non of these encounters. To all those on both sides of the gender divide who claim that size doesn't matter, I would refer you to the mw4m listings in the casual encounters section of craigslist for a very convincing rebuttal. The number of couples with an averagely endowed male searching for a hung man to join them is truly legion. In some cases, perhaps even the majority, the desire is for a so-called "cuckold" situation in which the husband is to be "humiliated" by watching his wife be "properly" serviced by a large cock; in others the husband is bi and both partners want to experience the new partner to a lesser or greater degree. Needless to say, I am entirely open to all of the above.)

First-time visitor? Start at the beginning.....

Wednesday, August 19, 2009


Sometimes I hate myself.... doesn't every addict feel that way more than he or she would care to admit? With the hunger rising rapidly, I agreed to meet with the generally unattractive guy who is simply obsessed with my cock. He pesters, he pesters, and I give in. In the event, he proved, as usual, to be quite talented orally, with a genuinely deep throat and a willingness to subject himself to pretty much whatever I want to do to him. (In truth I really don't want to do much.) My orgasm was reasonably satisfying; thankfully he departed immediately; and I was quickly returned to my life none the worse for wear I guess. So why do I feel like I need to take a shower as soon as possible? I think I am going to resist his blandishments in the future.... or that's what I'm thinking now. (An addict's thought processes are often highly distorted, and I know I am no exception to this rule.)

At least I had a very satisfying chat session with D., my dominant woman friend, who wants us to set a firm date for our first meeting. I look forward to that with great anticipation. More on her tomorrow.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Post-vacation pause....

Back from vacation, which functioned as a self-imposed drying out period of sorts, with essentially no way to curry existing or potential sexual partners, as well as no way to watch porn or otherwise feed my voracious libido. The result was that I returned home feeling a bit chastened, a bit less likely to act out, a bit less interested in the hunt. Of course my mailbox contained an email from a man that seems quite interested in meeting and who, for once, seems to fit my highly limited profile for what I find attractive in another man. And a recent female lover, M., returns from her vacation within the next couple of days, so I'm sure I'll be planning a rematch with her quite soon. And D., my dominant woman friend, at long last seems genuinely interested in meeting for the first time. And there seems to be an interested new woman on one of my feeder websites who most definitely arouses my curiosity in every conceivable way. So.... while the libido is just beginning to rev itself up again, I have no doubt that the hunger will be fully raging again soon. Is this a good or a bad thing? I guess I've ceased making those judgments.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Group Grope....

Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I accepted an invitation from a guy who has been pestering me to meet with a group of mostly married guys he regularly hosts in a local hotel. I had met with the host a couple of times before under somewhat bizarre circumstances. The first time he had offered to give me a quick blow job in an office parking lot—this significantly based on the size of my cock, which as noted elsewhere, is a genuine—not Internet inflated—8+ inches. (Take out a ruler, you'll find that 8 inches is quite large, in spite of the fact that virtually every man online claims that he is that size or bigger. The fact that all the studies indicate that something less than 10% of all men are, in fact, 8 or above doesn't stop the endless lying on the topic.) Unfortunately I found the location—an open parking lot in broad daylight—a wee bit daunting, even to my adventurous addict’s heart and my cock did not spring into action as it usually does. (Had he been a woman I doubt that even a college marching band playing John Philip Sousa music could have deterred my raging erection, but still....) Based on my size soft, he concluded that I, like so many others online, was in fact lying about my endowment, and he promptly jumped out of my car, leaving me literally holding my dick. In part because I found it highly annoying to be called a liar, I talked him into meeting with me again, this time in a rest room in his office building, where I basically jerked off while he watched. The danger this time must have turned me on somehow because I got very hard and produced a genuinely huge cum shot with which he was duly impressed.

Having passed his test, he has now been regularly entreating me to join one of his groups. I've resisted up to this point, because I have no sense whatsoever that the guys he is inviting to his events are even remotely my type, which is pretty limited, or that I will find the interaction particularly stimulating. Nevertheless, a sex addict will take what he can get, and right now, this seemed to be the best offer. So off to his reasonably upscale hotel I went, arriving to find three middle-aged somewhat flabby naked guys in his room, stroking and sucking each other. None of them were attractive to me at all but I guess the scene was novel and bizarre enough to get me going—and let's face it, a talented cocksucker can pretty much get anyone hard—and in the end I joined in fairly happily and enjoyed myself enough to finish with a reasonably satisfying orgasm. I probably won’t return, though desperation may again persuade me to partake.

What is the protocol after having sex with total strangers to whom you are not remotely attracted? Get dressed and depart as quickly as you possibly can. Where the hell are the women??

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Libido Resurrectus....

Well, the pressure has dissipated a bit at work.... we seem to have a plan in place that will allow me to keep my job... so of course the hunger returns.... unfortunately, there seems to be nothing going on at the moment, with B. ridiculously busy, M. on vacation, and D. still remaining tantalizingly out of reach. Even the location where I have occasionally met men is now unavailable, putting that fairly simple, but less satisfying, option out of reach. I've avoided watching any porn today, knowing that just a taste would send my libido into turbo-drive, which will produce nothing whatsoever for me but sheer frustration.

My strong, dominant D. continues to bamboozle me. In our earliest conversations, she came across tough as nails, even going so far as to suggest that a gift worth at least $250 was the price of a possible meeting with her, and joking quite openly about her alleged history of extorting expensive gifts from her many suitors. Based on subsequent interaction, I honestly wonder if that persona was entirely fictional, intended perhaps to see whether she could provoke me into crassness of a similar order. But why? A test? How can one possibly determine what is real in this bizarre virtual world? Will she ever allow me to meet her and learn the truth? Or will she forever tease and provoke, then insult and reject, then forgive and be warm? Is this an endless cycle? This is not an addict’s fantasy.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Libido Interruptus....

It takes a great deal to stop a sex addict’s raging libido, but the threat of losing one’s job or having one’s salary cut is one of the few phenomena that can do the trick. Perhaps the free flow of blood normally available to generate the near constant genital buzz we all love so much has hit an impassable dam at the knot of anxiety currently occupying my stomach. Whatever.... for the moment I am stopped in my tracks, trying to assimilate the latest threat to my well-being. In the end I think my job will be kept and my salary maintained, and once I feel relatively secure in that conclusion I'm sure the hunger will return, probably with renewed strength. Anyone looking to hire a capable blogger, please let me know!

Tuesday, August 4, 2009


As any addict will tell you, one of the most destructive components of their illness is the tendency to become so obsessed with your habit that you lose track of other responsibilities in your life, frequently leading to damage to yourself and to those closest to you. As I indicated in an earlier post, I refer to myself as a “functioning sex addict,” which means that, for the most part, I rarely allow this to happen. Nothing cataclysmic happened yesterday but I did feel myself utterly consumed by a very provocative, explicit instant message session with a new candidate, who lives some distance away but seems genuinely open to making a visit to my area. I have yet to see a picture, but her self-description sounds wonderful—5' 8", quite slim, blond hair, blue eyes, long legs, and what she describes as small breasts with “very perky” nipples. She also sounds extremely driven sexually and strikes me as quite possibly a fellow addict. The conversation captured me so totally that I skipped lunch, blew off at least one business discussion, and was more than a bit short on the phone with one of my friends. (I also was unable to find the time to blog at all.) I don't like any of that behavior any more than I like the feeling of being out of control. What is the lesson in all this? It's pretty simple: Never, ever underestimate the power of the addiction or get so arrogant about your own ability to keep it under control that you fail to note and respond to the warning signals that you are veering out of control. Easier said than done, I know, but such vigilance is the only way to remain “functional” and avoid destroying your life. The stakes are very high.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

A rainy day....

Nothing happening today.... babysitting, checking email.... then an instant message from one of my feeder sites. She seems to be some distance away, which always make me suspicious. Often such contacts are from women trying to persuade you to pay to watch them on cam, a ploy that truly infuriates me. The usual ruse is to tell the mark that the signup is absolutely free, which it actually is, that is until the automatic signup fee kicks in three days after you register for your "free" account. Any thinking person would probably conclude that there was something not quite kosher from the request for a credit card even when signing up for an allegedly free service, but in the throes of lust all our blood seems to rush from our brains to another vital organ considerably further south.

So far the chat actually seems legitimate, though she is 2.5 hours away. Of course I will report on the progress.... also going to send an email to M. in hopes that we can get together asap after she returns.

Friday, July 31, 2009

Rejection is part of the game....

Well, I met with P., or at least I spent perhaps 30 seconds with her..... Apparently she had been watching the location for my arrival, determined that I was not what she was looking for, and proceeded to give me the disappointing news before we even had an opportunity to sit down. Her precise words were, “Umm, hi, listen, I usually meet with really young guys. They're really great, actually, you should try the younger ones too. You're the same age as my husband, you're cute and everything, but I thought you were younger. So I'm not going to make you waste your money buying me a drink, ok?" This entire soliloquy was delivered with the door to the bar held half open and her backing away towards her parked car. Just to be clear, let me report that she listed her age on the site where we met as 42. I quite clearly listed mine as 45.

Now, let me say just for the record, that I have met many people to whom I have not been attracted and whom I have had to reject. (Though as a sex addict my standards are certainly a lot looser than most.) And this woman was not particularly attractive at all. (Of course I would probably have had sex with her, that is what I do.) But I have never been utterly unwilling to spend even 15 minutes with someone sharing a drink. In fact, I've had some of my most entertaining conversations with people who, for one reason or another, clearly were never going to be sexual partners. People interest me and, in spite of my addiction, I am under no illusion that only sexually attractive people have something of worth to offer to me in conversation. Sadly the Internet seems to have bred an amazingly virulent form of rudeness. Is this simply the appropriate comeuppance for men who have been thoughtlessly rejecting women for centuries? More on that topic in another post.....

What a difference a day makes.....

You take a day off to participate in a family outing and suddenly the heavens open up, it begins pouring, and the semi-drought is officially ended. (Perhaps the surprising appearance of C. on Wednesday should have been enough to signal the turning of the tide...) In my absence, I received an email from D., who seems suddenly interested in pushing things forward with me—have I finally found a woman to be genuinely submissive with?—as well as an email begging to connect from the man that is obsessed with my cock, and, most interestingly perhaps, several emails and texts from a new woman—let’s call her P.—met through one of my feeder sites, who lives near me, works near me, and seems very very interested. We are meeting for a quick drink today to test the waters. The logistical convenience is striking and makes potentially regular liaisons infinitely more feasible than with my more far-flung friends, including M., whom I greatly enjoyed but whose family responsibilities and difficulties in getting to me from 25 miles away make get-togethers likely to be far less frequent. I will certainly report the details of my meeting with P. today. I liked her voice and energy on the phone quite a bit.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Blessed Relief....

The day began with the pressure for sexual release building to almost unbearable proportions--and with no relief in sight. Emails continue to fly back and forth, I engage in the occasional semi-provocative instant message session, I receive expressions of interest from various heretofore unknown potential candidates, but in the end there is nothing tangible, nothing real, nothing now. Former partners, including the two women I've had sex with within the last month as well as even some of my normally ever-ready male replacement players, are all unavailable or not responding. Suddenly, late morning, my phone vibrates in my pocket, indicating a text message. (My sexual liaisons have so often involved texting of late that the sensation of that vibration against my thigh alone is enough to make me hard.) With mounting excitement I read the text, which turns out to be a note from a woman—let’s call her C.—I had met with once on a business trip to Chicago. She was in town for meetings, two of which had been canceled, leaving her unexpectedly with time on her hands. Might I be interested in paying her a visit in her hotel? Needless to say I was in her room within 30 minutes, having tap danced my way out of the office with one of my endlessly inventive collection of lies. (More on effective lying techniques in another post.) In my one very satisfying meeting with this woman, I had sensed a kindred spirit—it has been fairly rare in my experience to find a woman quite as driven sexually as I am, but they are indeed out there—and hence had made a deliberate effort to stay in touch, even though I saw no immediate way to meet with her again. Now here we were, some 18 months later with an unforeseen opportunity to meet. The moral is very simple: Keep in touch because the truth is, you truly never know.

The sex was again pretty sensational. C. is short, and perhaps 15 pounds overweight by today’s ludicrously idealized standards, but she has wondrously succulent flesh, a bonanza of curves to hold onto, and a very very sexy mind and spirit. She also is truly multi-orgasmic, which makes for epic levels of vocalization—is there a man alive who doesn't love hearing a woman scream, “Yes, yes, fuck me harder! Don’t stop! Yes, yes, yes! Oh my God, I'm cumming, again!”— as well as a totally relaxed and fluid approach to the changing of positions, all performed without missing a beat and generally while keeping my cock comfortably inside her. (Remember my comment in an earlier post about sex addicts being good lovers? That goes for female sex addicts as well...)

Her schedule only allowed us about 90 minutes together, but we took full opportunity of the time allotted and parted with a passionate kiss and an entirely mutual expression of deep gratitude as well as a nod to the heavens above for allowing us both to be available at the same time. Sometimes fate smiles....

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

In the beginning there was the orgasm

So for some reason the hunger is down today. Not sure why, perhaps because I almost killed myself working out too hard this morning at the gym and have consequently felt exhausted all day. Who knows? But perhaps this is an opportunity to briefly speculate on the sources of this strange addictive behavior of mine. My own theory is that it began with an odd confluence of events, namely my entrance into puberty at the age of 12 and the sudden death of my beloved sister just two months earlier. The proximity of these two seminal (pun intended) events seemed to almost hardwire into my psyche the notion of sex as a form of relief against emotional pain. I remember with great clarity the first time I ever masturbated by rubbing my alarmingly hard cock against a satin pillow, the resulting shivers of sheer pleasure thrilling me far beyond anything I had previously experienced. The resulting utter ecstasy of the orgasm itself--totally unexpected actually--left me forever after wanting to return again and again and again to that blissful state. I remember thinking very specifically, This is something that is always available to me. No matter how stressful or unpleasant the world may become, no matter what other traumatic events may lie in wait for me in the future, this incredible, intense, electric pleasure will always and forever be there to comfort me.

In my grief, in my despair over discovering, really for the first time, just how cruel the world could be, the sensation of my hard cock on that silky pillow became my most reliable and exciting form of solace. It also was a secret solace, one to be hidden and never discussed, one that only I knew I was engaging in. This early experience established two critical psychological realities that would mark my erotic life forever: sex as solace and sex as secret, two critical cornerstones of the addict’s world.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Raging Libido

So here I am desperately horny at the moment, having talked with several eager men about connecting today. The guy I was most attracted to couldn't make the logistics work, the guy I was reasonably enthusiastic about meeting had to cancel, and the guy that is literally in love with my cock but to whom I am not attracted was gently rejected. Still, I had to muster all my available strength not to meet with the third guy out of sheer desperation. (Had he been online and available to chat, I suspect he would have talked me into it.) The reality, of course, is that I would not have given any of them the time of day if there was even a hint of a chance with a woman right now. What does that make me? A total male slut fully prepared to mold my sexuality to accommodate whoever the available partner might be at any given moment? If the shoe fits....

A word to the wise: If you are already horny and desperate for sex, do not spend much of your day watching porn. It tends to cloud your judgment....

Manic Monday....

It's Monday and I haven't had an orgasm since my sexathon with M. 12 days ago. I'm not entirely sure what my aversion to masturbation is, but sometimes it just seems so insufficient a form of satisfaction for the intensity of my desire that I simply avoid it all together. Two of my female partners are essentially completely unavailable at the moment and the other potentials seem weeks away from anything tangible. And my hunger is now raging. What to do? My past pattern in these situation has been to turn to quickies with men, even though for the most part they represent a far less preferable and desirable option. A meeting place that had been inaccessible is now available again, making the likelihood of my resorting to men that much more likely. (This is a place where I would almost never even consider meeting a woman.... men are so much sleazier!) I may check on the availability of one of my married male friends, who is easy, safe, and at least somewhat fun.

My conversation with D. continues. What does she want from me? What might she give me? I continue to be fascinated by her intelligence and her strength but the mixed signals she continues to send my way are beginning to become a bit wearying. I've offered to be her sex slave or to be a more mutual lover, but I still don't know where here authentic desires lie. This is frustrating, particularly for an addict whose main stock in trade is ferreting out specifically what a potential sexual partner wants and then working as hard as humanly possible to give it to her. D. keeps me continually off balance and I'm not sure I like that precarious position at all. Still, I await her messages with great anticipation.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Talk, talk, talk

A lot of talk going on today, particularly with men.... I'm really much more into women these days, but the men are so much more plentiful, so much easier to meet, and so much more willing to do whatever I want, that sometimes they are hard to resist. I mean what’s an addict supposed to do, turn down free sex? ‘Just say no’ is just not a part of our repertoire. Both of these guys are ostensibly straight, one of them married as I am, and neither of them at all even remotely open about their sexuality. The married guy is a recent addition to the roster, who advertised himself to me as having a big cock, which I discovered is only somewhat true.** Having had limited experience with men, he expressed concern before we met about his ability to perform and his ability to achieve an orgasm--this in spite of his avid, nay intense, desire to meet. Once in the event, he became instantly hard as a rock and without too much work on my part, shot a truly gigantic quantity of sperm all over the room. So much for performance anxiety. He seems to be around today, as is another man who is constantly bombarding me with requests to service me. I have accepted his services several times--he is quite talented orally--but I am not attracted to him and would generally prefer other, mmm, outlets, so to speak. If the married guy shows up online and wants to meet, I am not sure about my response, but with not too much prodding I probably can be persuaded to meet. Of course that is pretty much always the case with me. Describing me as fairly easy would be like calling Amy Winehouse just a teensy bit self-destructive. Nonetheless, I would toss any of these guys over in a hearbeat, should one of my women partners make themselves available. As reported in an earlier post, my female friend M. and I engaged in non-stop sex for two hours last week. My longest session with a man? Maybe 20 minutes tops. With men it is all about getting off, at least for me. (Obviously I know that for genuinely gay men this is usually not the case, though I will have to say I have met my share for whom it is.)

Speaking about “ostensibly straight” by the way, if you are a man, and you like getting your cock sucked by another man (not to mention sucking or fucking another man), then you cannot under any conceivable definition of the term be described as “straight,” no matter how uncomfortable you are with the term “bisexual.” On the other side of the coin, the fact that a man has such desires in no way, shape, or form means that he should necessarily be classified as “gay” either. Yes, I know there are indeed many gay men in the closet, locked in marriages to women to whom they have no sexual attraction. But the gay community really needs to get a bit more honest about the reality of bisexuality, though that concept too has its limitations. My own view, based on a fairly substantial sample of experience, is that there are an awful lot of people, perhaps as much as 40-50% of the population (yes, I know, wildly speculative), who are at least somewhat attracted to some members of their own gender. This attraction can range from gentle curiosity, perhaps a mild stirring in the loins at the sight of a particularly attractive person of the same sex, to a full-on full-body sexual response when confronted with the right man or woman of one's dreams. As I have noted, I am much more attracted to women, and to a much broader array of female body types and personalities, than I am to men but I certainly am not straight. A slim, smooth, well-defined male body, particularly when endowed with an unusually large cock, will indeed launch my libido into overdrive. With the ideal man, I might even be tempted to take longer than the typical 15-20 minutes mentioned above. But even an average looking woman with a creative brain and a fun imagination can provoke the same response and probably sustain it considerably longer. So what exactly does that make me? Bi? I guess so.... The labels really don't help any of us very much, do they?

**See comments in my original post about the utter inability of most men to be even remotely honest about the size of their penises. Based on men's online profiles, one would conclude that the average cock size is about 8 inches, fully two inches longer than the actual average. One man I met with, after observing the length of my penis (actually, measurably--as with a tape measure--a bit over 8 inches) suggested to me that I should report my size online as over 9 inches, essentially to reflect the reality of “Internet inflation.” I refuse to resort to such flimflammery, but through the years I have grown increasingly tired of the endless lying on this point.)

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Work, work, work

Busy all day today with meetings, and off to a baseball game with a client tonight, so next to no opportunity to do anything today or to even write anything except this short note. A couple of pointless emails that went nowhere, a check on a couple of sites, and back into a meeting.... My addiction needs more time to be properly fed. Hopefully tomorrow.....

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Hungry but busy....

It's been a full week since I met with M. last Wednesday and the hunger has been steadily on the rise ever since, reaching near fever proportions at the moment. Unfortunately I am having a busy day at work, leaving me only enough time to watch just a little porn online, and exchange emails with D. and with the woman who wants me to share her with her husband. The latter seems absolutely real and quite sincere in her wish to meet.... But she wants to get together an hour north of my home, which makes it difficult to pull off. I have to come up with a way to make it work. In the meantime, I may have to masturbate to take the edge off just a little.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

The search continues....

A little more activity today, entirely via the Internet, including a new woman who may or may not be genuinely interested.... and a couple who likes to invite men to share in sexual pleasures with the wife.... (She has a particular fetish of a sort that we need not get into here, other than to say that as a sex addict I am pretty much willing to try anything except, in my case, human excrement in any form, blood, animals, or children in any way whatsoever, even role play. As a parent, I can't even countenance that particular predilection....)

I also have exchanged a couple more emails and chatted a bit with my mysterious dominant D., who frustrates me, angers me, charms me, and fascinates me. I have no idea where our conversations are leading, which is interesting in itself, but we seem to be strongly drawn to one another. I am sincerely hoping we get a chance to meet....

Monday, July 20, 2009


It's Monday and I'm finding it hard to get in touch with any of my real or potential sexual partners. I've tried to initiate instant message sessions, I've sent emails, I've answered Craigslist ads. I've made my usual visits to my four primary web site sources. Nothing, no response, zip. (I did exchange a couple of emails with someone to whom I am not really attracted, but that hardly counts, does it?) A day like this leaves me feeling frustrated, a little desperate, and very much on edge. I know there are those who refuse to see compulsive sexual behavior as a genuine addiction but if they could spend a day like today inside my skin they might change their views. (A visit to a 12-step meeting to listen to the storytellers there would likewise make believers of them.) This hunger, this intense need to make connection, to get even the smallest sexual thrill, can become almost unbearable. Masturbation might relieve it momentarily, but that is a very limited fix, so paltry for me, in fact, that I rarely engage in it these days. I had a marathon of sexual activity with a new woman just last Wednesday--wouldn't you think that would be enough to tide me over for at least five days? No chance. The hunger is back, and with a vengeance.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Home, home....

So here I am enjoying a day with my family, doing so quite happily, and feeling essentially no need to act out at all. (I did read an email and sent one in reply to my dominant woman friend--let's call her D.--who had gotten very angry with me in our last instant message exchange, essentially cutting me off, cursing me violently, and then going immediately offline.** (Sort of the equivalent of hanging up on me, I guess.) But other than that, I've been a very good boy. It is days like this that make me wonder why I feel so overwhelmed by my desires sometimes. Of course, in the past, when I have created immovable obstacles to my behavior as a kind of test to see how I would handle the deprivation, I have always found myself climbing the walls within a few days, desperate to escape to the addictive behavior. For today, though, I am basking in the warmth of the family I cherish. It does feel good.

**More in a later post on the somewhat strange relationship I seem to be building with her....
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