Myjaculate

No one's ever asked me to discuss my take on the male ejaculatory orgasm, let alone right an entire detailed post about it. When lg asked me if i'd be interested (rather mousily, and i'm sure she was nervously tracing a circle on her desk with her finger as she waited for my answer - but, alas, she didn't have to trace for too long), i was ecstatic. That's one topic i just never thought others would be interested in hearing my perspective on. I immediately replied yes with as much haste as possible.

And that's as far as my momentum went.

I struggled to find a place where i could begin. Talk about ejaculating? This is one of the few things that i've kept rather privately to myself. None of my partners have ever been particularly curious about what it's like to eject semen out of a penis, and frankly, the subject has never come up with anyone else. That doesn't mean i don't have a desire to spray my thoughts about cumming all over these pages. This indicates that i've struggled to organize my impressions in my head. And, truthfully, i think it's important that this make up part of this post. I'm still shocked that anyone would want to hear about a confidential sensation i've been experiencing nearly everyday for over a quarter of a century. My orgasm is such an emblematic part of me, as integral as my breathing, which makes it all the more difficult to parse and spread out onto a slide to be examined underneath an expository microscope. So, in order to tackle this project, i thought that i would employ a technique that i've used in the past to expound upon a subject. I've broken it up into three, ever expanding sections.

The first: Masturbation, pt. 1 (aka. thrilling)
As i've mentioned before, i really enjoy handling my penis. Sometimes, whilst mid-fondle, my somewhat flaccid member will start to respond and either out of boredom/curiosity/mischievousness i'll choose to push it further. I'll slide my penis between my fore and middle fingers and just wiggle them back and forth, inciting blood to rush into this appendage. Slowly the skin tightens, stretches, and expands. Very shortly, my erect penis is pointed in the air, slanted upwards, throbbing and bobbing in connection with my heartbeat. It's at this point where if i'm sitting, i will stand up. The preferred place for this form of ejaculation is a bathroom. I will lean (if i have privacy) against the edge of a sink, resting the outer rim of the bowl on my thighs, a few inches beneath my crotch. If in a public bathroom, i will pick a stall, and lean against the toilet, bracing my weight right underneath my knees. Regardless of where i am, the posture is all the same.

For this orgasm, all i'm interested in is cumming. It's not about being sexually turned on. It's merely for the sensation of the orgasm, but more importantly, the rush of thick, viscous fluids through the vas deferens, spurting finally out of the gaping hole on the tip of the penis. I will stroke my penis with my entire hand fully enclosed around it, applying more pressure on the underside. My hand glides over the flesh rapidly, causing my wrist to slam into my pelvic bone, and my thumb and forefinger smacking against the rim of my circumcised head. This feels incredible. Every nerve ending in my penis awakens, anxiously anticipating the rapid physical stimulation of my pistoning grip.

When i feel an electrical sizzle on both sides of my groin, i know i'm close. Here's where leaning against a toilet or sink comes into play (something i discovered completely by chance and to my benevolent grace). Timed perfectly with the rising crescendo, i will lean as far back as possible, maintaining my fast strokes, and tense my abdominal muscles as much as possible. This distributes the intense, pleasurable sensation of the orgasm all throughout my mid-section, building and building until finally, deep inside, i feel a pull from within. As if the semen could not be contained, it jets out of my penis, and with each expulsion, a concluding jolt of exquisite warmth explodes across my torso. As quickly as it was begun, it is over. The blood recedes, the erection subsides, and i am left to dispose of the creamy, thick evidence of my debauchery.

The second: Masturbation, pt. 2 (aka. uncontrollable)
Here enters the vast amounts of pornographic material i've accumulated. There is no mistake when i sit down (usually in front of the computer) what i have on my mind. I am already aroused, i've either awoken this way in the morning, which frequently happens, or just suddenly my chemical composition shifts, and i must satiate my customarily-high libido. When i am in this state, there is no need to manhandle my member to encourage blood flow. Blood floweth already. Blood rageth. I am achingly, obliteratingly hard.

In fact, i'm so aroused, that i must be careful in how i touch my penis. In this state, very little needs to occur for me to blow. I will cue up whatever girl being debased/objectified/minimized material i seek, and lower my undergarments. The difference in firmness and size in this state as opposed to the one i previously described is completely palpable. My penis is so swollen and engorged, it flushes a deep violet, purple tone. Starting the media, i take my fingers and lightly rub the underside of my genitals, caressing the (surprisingly) soft, skin, tracing over the wide, flanged head. This minimal contact is amazing. I can feel nerve endings in my spine react to this, crawling up my back and into my neck. It takes every ounce of restraint in my body to not grab a hold of this staff and start thrusting down on it.

When i do finally curl my meaty fingers around my penis, i just choke it at first, squeezing it which in turn causes a neural shudder to tremor through my core. This shakes off any civility left lingering in my foreground. In response, my jaw assumes an inhumane stance, with my lower teeth jutting forward. My breath purchases savage lungfuls of air from the atmosphere. The tendons in my hand scream "STROKE!". The rigid muscles in my forearm concur yelling "STROKE!". My eyes want to see this. My ears want to hear it. My nose wants to smell the thick, pungent musk of my beastly arousal. Playing over and over in my head are the images and sounds of the girl's hopeless plight.

When i begin stroking, blasts of euphoric current shoot down my thighs, past my knees. Jolts of pleasure sever through my crotch, using my penis like a lightning rod, boring megawatts of electrical sizzle deep into my prostate. With this much frenzied stimulation, it won't be long before i cannot hold back any longer. Depending on how long i want to go, i must cease immediately any contact with my penis in order to prolong my release. I will wait a few counts, then quickly jerk on my penis a handful of times, bringing me quickly back to the edge of that delicious waterfall. Then, once again, i pull my hand off. I breathe sinisterly, letting the flow of sadistic juices nourish my mind. I can sustain this dance of edging towards the crescendo for hours, or sow my seed in just a few minutes. Regardless of duration, my eruption remains the same. A sensation of live spirits collecting in my chest signals the commencement, and as these wild creatures join together and push through my veins, my penis begins to violently clench, spasming upward, setting off the ejaculatory impulses. Semen surges through my penis, spraying gush after gush of thin, briney liquid all up and down my torso. This can last upto a minute, and even after completion, the inelastic firmness remains for several minutes more.

The third: Fornication (aka. transformative)
This one was the toughest to write about because truthfully, there exist so many derivatives of this orgasm depending on which female orifice is used, which position she is in, and what other stimuli (i.e. sex toy, bondage, roleplay, fetish, etc.) is involved (or lack thereof). To attempt to capture them all would take numerous posts dedicated to each nuanced version (i.e. her mouth; lying on her back, head over the edge of the bed; blindfolded). I fear the intricacy of each one, although truly enjoyable research material for me to collect, would prove to be less than interesting to my readers. To boil this form of orgasm down to its essence, it is simplest to view this as the hands-free, genital-only, fornicating orgasm.

This is the most intrinsically male of the orgasms, and probably the one that most females are traditionally in the dark about. The masturbatory ones are about toying, frigging, diddling, playing. This one is serious. This one demonstrates the biological and psychological requirement that males must penetrate in order to fertilize the female. This orgasm is the most fulfilling, without a doubt. I gain a deep, intimate connection with my partner, but in addition to that, i embody my ingrained dominant tendencies the most when i use my penis to penetrate her. I'm sticking a part of myself inside of her. I'm inserting me into her. I am joining with her by going within her. I make a hole in her and fill it with me. Once inside of her, the most magnificent, incredible pleasure consumes me. That she has accepted me inside, has adapted to my fleshy intrusion, enveloped me, cradling my most sensitive and yet stimulative appendage satiates my desire to overcome, topple and conquer her. She has surrendered to me in this moment. I am her conqueror, she is the vanquished. I have a lavish, celebratory feast upon her banquet.

In retrospect, this act seems to imply the need for an apology on my behalf. It is done with such force - the kind that when attempted without the heightened hormonal state, would be viewed as barbaric and violent - and after a certain point (of no return) with zero regard for the recipient. In the beginning, when i first dabbled in the coital arts, i knew i held back out of trepidation for the horribly, hungry monster i knew i could become, sparing my lover this ghastly sight. But as i realized i couldn't control it, as its strength grew, sustained by the few droplets of sanguine blood in the water it sensed, i gave up all (completely futile) attempts at reining it in.

But i think that's what makes this such a delicate and treasured experience. Because of these moments, however long they last, we are forcibly removed from the artificial chains of civilization and humanity, and are instead treated as two galaxial bodies whose particles are violently slamming into eachother, creating new, unabashed passion.

We are ultimately and without any restraint, creating life.

Boy training

A commenter on this post made an excellent suggestion that someone tackle the lazies of the male persuasion. Honestly, i just love getting suggestions for posts, and couldn't pass this one up.

Without further ado:

I feel for the most part that this entire site, despite its nomenclature of "transformher", has been dedicated to the ways a man can become a better man. I speak frequently about the need for restraint. I celebrate the virtue and necessity of patience. I subscribe to the notion that what is done here, what i speak of is more than just about sex, but about finding an inner peace and connection with my partner.

But ultimately, the matter that sits at the core of my entire psyche is the unceasing creation of beauty. I know this word automatically has feminine inferences woven into it. Rare is it that someone would say "that man is beautiful" and even if they do, it is something that causes you to take express notice. Additionally, for my sake, beauty is not just physical attractiveness. In fact, we limit the power and prevalence of beauty if we only use physical characteristics as its ingredients.

How does one contribute beauty to the world? With the list of things i chose to highlight in my other post, you'd think offering something beautiful was arduous (you mean i have to wear high heels in order to contribute positively to the world?). Actually, it's quite simple. Just care. That's all you need to do. Care about other people, care about your loved ones, but most importantly, care about yourself.

I'm surrounded by men who have no problem oggling some cute thing fluttering by in her little mini skirt and wedges, all the while their potbellies pour onto the table from where they stuff their mouths with the worst, nutrient-deficient, fat-laden food on the planet. They demand that their women look a specific way - tiny, thin, attractive - yet they give no thought to how they themselves look. They dress like the clothes they own were as inconvenient a formality as the wrapper on their greasy cheeseburger. They take no pride in their appearance, whether it is how little attention they pay to their grooming habits (i have seen some collosally awful haircuts that men seem to care very little about) or how homogenized they've made their outfits (can anyone tell the difference between what a guy wore on Monday to what he wore on a Thursday?).

Let me provide a little background information to round out the context to where i'm coming from. I was raised on a ranch. My father did not wear bespoke clothing. His regular outfit was a plaid button down and some heavily-worn jeans. And that suited his vocation. However, whenever he found himself attending some public function, he made a point to be dressed as nicely and handsomely as possible. He never once was found at a social event not dressing or looking his best. Doing so spoke about the welfare of his family, but also provided other folks with a charming, dashing gentleman to occupy their visual sampling. He knew that there was a bigger purpose than all of us. And i remember giving him a great deal of grief as a boy on Sundays, when i couldn't understand his insistence that i wear my navy suit to "dumb ole church". His simple answer was stolen straight out of a J.D. Salinger story (a fact i didn't learn until years later, on my own, reading "Franny and Zooey").

"Do it for the Fat Lady."

As men, we ask a lot of our women. We ask them to be seductive co-eds. We ask them to be blushing brides. We ask them to be strong, pregnant ladies. We ask them to be diligent partners, and impeccable mothers to our children. All of this is fine and warranted, only if we ask of ourselves on magnitudes much, much higher. We are not under the same pressure that women are to look, act and dress a certain way.

But if i could slow things down, for just a moment, let me speak solely to my very, small male audience.

Do better.

Do and be better. Don't let fatigue allow you to let things slide. Don't let laziness be your calling card. Don't let busyness interrupt your ability to offer more.

If you need encouragement from a bigger force, know for certain that the world benefits when you take the time to care and acknowledge that your contribution on this day is to a much larger and spiritually fulfilling effort.

Medium well done

The media

In some ways, it's responsible for framing my approach to my kink (some might even say it's responsible for the formation of it - fine, i'll allow that). Whether it's from viewing Popeye cartoons at a young age that involved Bluto kidnapping the hapless Olive, only to offer us brief scenes of her torture, then interrupted by the hero's spinach-laden rescue or the climactic finale of Young Sherlock Holmes where the adolescent gumshoe, in the nick of time, saves a mummified damsel from her waxy entombment - my introduction to the abduction of the female as a way to interact and commute with her came from this artificial construction.

I didn't know what i was seeing. In my real life, i wasn't seeing actual evidence of any kinky proclivities from the flesh and blood around me. There is no doubt that the media i encountered had a major impact on my sexuality. A certain image stimulated a part of my brain that up until that point was just agitated, an itch i couldn't scratch. But once it saw this image of a beautiful girl bound tightly by rope - ahhhhhh, relief! Suddenly, a visceral connection is made between my internal, secretive appetites and those broadcast through a wider medium of others. When i would encounter these familiar scenarios as a teen (again not in real life, but usually through a magazine or film), my mind made a pleasant association with the image before me, further reinforcing the hope that this kink of mine may someday be savored.

Because i am an animal with appetites, once i learned that there was a source for the kind of sustenance my lust required - the media - very soon, that was where i directed a great deal of my time and energy. But here is where it gets skewed. Since i was not producing any media (except for the written word, which is mostly all you encounter here), i was merely a consumer of what was available (still to this day, they have not made the erotic movie that i'd deign to make if i had the proper funds). Over time, the unabashed consumer will find their appetites and desires altered, reformed to fit the flow of consumable materials. So to was the case for me. I found myself aroused by things i never expected to be stimulated by, and after awhile, it became difficult to clearly delineate what were my own native impulses from those implanted by the media i voraciously consumed.

When i finally decided to create this site, i realized i was making an active step to participate in the very realm that forged my own internal desires. I contribute to it here by sharing my words and posting photos/videos that illustrate my point of view - but that's just it, they are just my points of view. I am just one (highly opinionated) man with a particular bent on the world that occupies a rather small corner of the kinky blogosphere. I cannot compete with the onslaught of images and stories that other high-profiled, commercially-focused and well-financed put out - nor do i ever intend to try to compete with this, but i recognize that i occupy a spot in the constant, unending stream. Even though, recently, me and my girl embarked on the exciting endeavor of actually creating media (photos specifically) of a professional nature (already, we've made it into a few publications), our transmission is a mere trifle compared to the largest and loudest voices out there.

It should also be stated that i continue to view SM media constantly, repeatedly, and emphatically. It is a daily treat for me - one in which i'm able to shut down when i realize i've wasted too much time plundering through the digital channels. One thing to note, however, is that the media is persistent and non-stop. We're under a constant barrage of imagery and motion that attempt to reinforce and stimulate deeply held fascinations of the opposite sex and the erotic theatre (for largely profitable enterprises), and it's up to us to decide what we're willing to let influence our psychology, and what we're willing to toss into the trash.

Help Wanted

The Lustful Quality is spinning off - yet again. I've got a super, secret project i'm working on and need some assistance.

Consider this a call for the first ever TransformHer internship. Throughout the existence of this site, i've never really asked much from my readers. But, now i'm appealing to you directly. I am limited in my html/graphic design skills, and need someone who has some free time and interest in helping me with this project. I have concept ideas in my head, artwork that i've produced and other things already, i just need the right skills to set it in motion.

So, if there are any of you interested, please submit an e-mail (to: dominantdeity (at) gmail) and a brief description of your skillset (don't think i need to see resumes).

Kitty's Response

One of the things I love about my man is his frankness, but sometimes it comes out the wrong way. In our relationship, I'm generally in charge of pleasantries like sending thank-you notes, remembering to bring a bottle of wine to a dinner party or offering drinks to guests the moment they enter our home. It's not that Deity is not thoughtful--I assure you, he is an incredibly generous person. But sometimes, his strong opinions trump his empathy and sensitivity.

Obviously, his last post was far from "rather benign" as he claimed in one of his responses to comments. It touched a nerve with many of you, and if I didn't know him better, it would have riled me too. For starters, he's not a woman. He doesn't walk through the world actually wearing the false eyelashes he so adores, and yes, they do take some getting used to, not to mention lots of practice. He doesn't wear a corset, walk in heels or put on makeup every morning, so from an outsider's perspective, his instructions and assertions as to how to do these things begs the question, "Where do you get off?" We do argue about this from time to time--I'm huffing and puffing up a few flights of stairs, he teases me, I shoot back with little patience that he's not the one with his ribcage forcibly compressed four and a half inches.

I explained this to him when discussing the responses to his post, and once I pointed out how his writing can read from a female perspective, he understood that, generally, women bristle at being told how to be feminine by a man, and explained that this was not his intention. He said, "But all I'm saying is do it the right way." I said, "What's the right way?" He answered, "Whatever looks best on you. Whatever you're happy with. I just don't like sloppiness."

And that's what I think is missing from his post. Ultimately, he doesn't mean that everyone should go for a 1950s look or wear false eyelashes, a corset and heels every day. (I certainly don't. I think I would be blind and have tendonitis if I did.) What he is really railing against is women who take no pride in their personal appearance, and who forget that part of the reason for taking care of yourself is so that you feel good.

If your heels give you great pain and are making you walk uncomfortably, take them off; they're clearly not working for you. If you're not adept at putting on makeup and don't care to wear it, or practice at it, then don't. It's not you. When undressing, it is a little more fun to do this simple task in a way that makes you feel good--whether you're working it slowly or are more of a bodice-ripper type. If you're going to do something, anything, it's worth putting some effort into it to do it well and bring you happiness. As for the corset part, I think it is part of his fantasy that he knows how to do this better than me. He doesn't, because I know when it feels right, and I have years of practice. But for most people, someone else--their partner?--is the one lacing them on the special occasion that calls for a corset. (You can probably guess that that was the section which had me stop and take a deep breath for patience).

Of all the generalized, blanket statements Deity makes explicitly in his post, the implicit one that is clear to me as someone who knows him well, is that this all comes back to his belief that men and women alike should strive every day to add some beauty to the world. I feel safe saying that most people are at their best when they feel their best, and are making purposeful choices about themselves and how they act, and I know Deity agrees with me. This is the point that is lost when we, as women, read his post and hear yet another man telling us how to act. Too many women have heard that for most of their lives. By no means do I intend to suggest that those who were offended have no right to feel offended, I only wish to offer that there may have been a miscommunication. Deity's been writing this blog for years, and this one post is but an aberration from his otherwise articulate writings.

(Another point: Try not to take him so seriously. He gets off on being cheeky. Case in point: His blogger name is meant as a joke.)

--Kitty du Vert

Girl training

There are things that i should not know better how to do than women. Simply put, there is a deficit of femininity on display in this world, and i find it to be a travesty.

- Applying makeup
I should not know how to properly paint a face better than a woman. If it is your choice not to wear makeup, that is fine, but if you do - PLEASE WEAR IT IN A FLATTERING WAY. The absolute lazy way i've seen women apply makeup is atrocious. It doesn't end up accentuating their features, but draws a sharp spotlight on their impatience and lack of care in how they look. Give me five minutes with a girl, and i can show her how she can make her visage appear porcelain and flawless.

- Walking in heels
If you're going to go through the taxing experience of wearing heels, please, please i implore you, look like you enjoy wearing them. Today, i saw a woman (the impetus of this post, actually) in knee-high, black leather boots walking as if she were completely inconvenienced by her choice of footwear. There was no sway in her step. No lilty flow. No playful roll of her hips and ass. Her legs in those boots looked like lumber. If you choose to wear these exquisite items, please don't make me take you aside and provide you with a tutorial about how you "Lift, Move, Drop".

- Lacing a corset
I know that the majority of you have never worn a corset - neither have i. But why do i know how to lace one? Because i've made the plunge and gone somewhere that carries corsets (real ones, with boning and lacing) and have wrapped them around a girl's frame and gone to town. You can only get to this point of knowing how to actually tighten a corset once you take the plunge. I've said it before and i guess will continue to have to say it, but there are fewer, more elegant pleasures than witnessing a girl look at her figure for the first time in the mirror laced. She looks hungry, famished, and most importantly, powerful. Fire burns in her eyes as her hands smooth over her exaggerated, hour-glass figure. Please make this one of your "once-in-a-lifetime" goals - if you are woman, to try, if you are man, to witness.

- Putting on false eyelashes
It's almost comical how easy this is for me, and yet i'm the one, not her, that gets to relish the outcome all night long. My girl has only begun to put her own false eyelashes on. These are somewhat similar to wearing a corset - you can only know their power once you've tried it. And good thing is, false eyelashes are available cheaply and more abundantly than corsets (try your local drugstore). My biggest piece of advice is: patience. It takes time to get it right, but when you do...WOW

- Taking OFF your clothes
Gals do you not know how much power you hold over the men in your life simply by the way you take off all the basic undergarments you've chosen to wear throughout the day? Please, please, please tease him when you de-robe. Take your time, tantalize him. Go slow. Look at him, let him know that you are aware how much this drives him crazy. You are his candy. Don't just rip off the wrapper. Take your time revealing the delicious girl underneath.

The number of times i've had to spend time teaching a girl these (and more) secrets of accentuating their femininity is really heart-breaking. Everything i mention above should be met with excitement and fun. None of it should be seen as work. And yet, i continue to see example after example of women who half-ass their look, when with just a few steps, they could have men eating out of their hand.

I think i should open an academy, but what would i call it?

you are safe

there is nothing in my hands
there is something in my hands
there is nothing in my hands
there is something in my hands
there is nothing in my hands
there is something in my hands
lay your head close to mine
lay your head
lay your head close to mine
lay your head
dangle
dangle that beautiful hair
dangle it
dangle
dangle that beautiful hair
across my lips
as i nap
as you watch me nap
from above
brush me with your beauty
pour over me with your eyes
safe
you are safe
for were i awake
i would
topple
you