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

Self-hatred?

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

Obsession....

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.
 
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