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?

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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....

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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…


Embarrassed, Amused and Turned On

Helping Hand

HNT 4 (and a savoury story)

Masturbation Madness


A much needed fucking…

Now She’s Giving The Orders

Shopping Day

This is Lolita on drugs (2)

This Is My Remedy

The Year 39 Update

You don’t want biographical info. I know what you REALLY want.

Sex Advice

Anal Play: Fingering

Brush Up Your Orgasm

Shay’s Condom Tips

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio

Burns of punishment

Famosas azotables

Fit to be Tied

Free Heidi Montag Playboy Pictures – September 2009

Learning the lesson…

Naked and Caned

BDSM & Fetish

4 Scenes

Collar, Cuffs And Clamps

Driven by lust….

Honey Pass Me the Nut Cracker

The Negress Natters: Submission.

The perfect body for three-minute porn

Sex Humor

How Many Licks?

Thoughts on Sex & Relationships

The Confession…Coming Soon

Half-Nekkid Heavenly Body

In Search of…. my Clitoris

Is this the dark side of porn?

(Mis)Adventures In Dating: Do You Know Who I Am?

Nonstop Orgasms – HER Perspective

News, Reviews & Interviews

Anal Pleasure and Health by Jack Morin

Icegasm Kit

Top Five Tuesday - Win 1000 FREE Porn Minutes

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......

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