Since there's no space, come, let us kiss and squeeze;
Or kiss anyway, let's start with that, the kissing, please.
Because it's better than not starting, you agree?
We're good at kissing, kissing all over, pleasantly
And if we kiss, we may as well do more.
For it's just you and me, no one else outside that door.
How is this? My hand? There, holding your breast?
Do i go too far? Or perhaps, should i go the rest?
What pulse is this, that greets me at my touch?
Quivering lips, fingers, hips, sighs of way, too, too much.
Yes, i think i will go on, plundering right here.
And those outside will not abide our passions, my dear.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Where else would i put these thoughts?
- Oh pretty girl on the platform. I stand near you, and not so abstractly or subtly gander over at you. It can't be helped, you see, because your ribbony head of curls caught my eye as soon as i went through the turnstile. And well, i could dip into my satchel and pull out the trade papers i should probably be studying, but then there you are. Pretty. Curly. You haven't yet shown me your eyes - oh my...you are pretty. Incredibly. Surely, you see me. I'm no more than just a few feet from those two big blue beee-yoots. This isn't a game. I'm merely interested in looking at your visage, the same as if i were to stare so intently at a Van Gogh landscape hanging in the Metropolitan. I want to be near that beauty. I want to just stare and admire. I want to be inspired. To be filled with the joy such beauty imbibes you with, to then turn around, and hold the door for that elderly lady, to offer a pleasant smile to that stranger waiting for the bus near my apartment. I want to be charmed, and hopeful in turn, be charming.
- I do so much walking in this city. There can only be so much entertainment one pursues in the headphones plugged into their ears. I offer to those of you who read these words the opportunity to chime in on whether the next behaviors i describe are creepy or endearing: I'm rushing, late (by my terms, which really means i'm right on time) for an appointment. I weave in and out of the stragglers on the sidewalk. I don't shove anyone. It's all on me. I duck, bend, shift, scoot and bow - all to make my way through a congested alleyway. I look at my watch every few steps. How can it still only be that time? Seriously? Boy, when did minutes go so fast? And then, suddenly, without any hesitation, i stop in my tracks. Ahead, there is a beautiful woman who has stopped to study the tantalizing window display at a dress shop. My steps are methodically slower, angling my approach so that i walk behind her by just a few inches. Right as i'm upon her, i close my eyes, suck in the air around her through my nostrils just so i can sense her perfume. My forward progress carries me a few feet past her, as the remnants of her bouquet pay their last respects upon my nostrils. And then, without hesitation, i resume my hurried march to my appointment, with 100% certainty she has no idea what her lovely perfume has done to lift my day.
- I do so much walking in this city. There can only be so much entertainment one pursues in the headphones plugged into their ears. I offer to those of you who read these words the opportunity to chime in on whether the next behaviors i describe are creepy or endearing: I'm rushing, late (by my terms, which really means i'm right on time) for an appointment. I weave in and out of the stragglers on the sidewalk. I don't shove anyone. It's all on me. I duck, bend, shift, scoot and bow - all to make my way through a congested alleyway. I look at my watch every few steps. How can it still only be that time? Seriously? Boy, when did minutes go so fast? And then, suddenly, without any hesitation, i stop in my tracks. Ahead, there is a beautiful woman who has stopped to study the tantalizing window display at a dress shop. My steps are methodically slower, angling my approach so that i walk behind her by just a few inches. Right as i'm upon her, i close my eyes, suck in the air around her through my nostrils just so i can sense her perfume. My forward progress carries me a few feet past her, as the remnants of her bouquet pay their last respects upon my nostrils. And then, without hesitation, i resume my hurried march to my appointment, with 100% certainty she has no idea what her lovely perfume has done to lift my day.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Top me, oh Top me, please.
Ever since my girl got me an iPod Touch for Christmas last year, i have developed a gradually growing addiction for podcasts. This format has an incredible versatility because the shows can run the gamut of slick, professionally produced media spectacles to the low budget dude-with-a-mic-in-his-living-room-just-chatting. Couple that with how they are delivered to me, only in my ear, an air of intimacy has built up around my listening experience. As it shouldn't be a surprise, i've gone in search of kinky, SM podcasts, and to my surprise there are a good number of them. It's quite an enjoyable thrill to queue up one of these sexual broadcasts, board my morning subway train, and listen to tales of dykes packing dicks, bisexual sex parties, or a latex couples' weekend - all the while surrounded by my completely oblivious fellow commuters.
One thing i've noticed, and it's echoed here in the kinky blogosphere, is the absolute dearth of straight, male dominants/Tops hosting their own podcast (and if indeed there is a show, please feel free to let me know. I'd love to tune in). There is an endless number of quality shows consistent of females of all sexuality, and there are even a number of submissive males. Where are the straight male Tops? Does our viewpoint not excite enough of a following that a podcast hosted by one would find its way into my iTunes store? Some of this is self-explanatory. There just isn't an audience for the male perspective, especially when that perspective is trying to entice a female audience.
And that's when another thought occurred to me. In a good number of these shows, there are plenty of stories of men paying women a fee for a session of sadistic domination. None of these stories go in the opposite direction. Why have i never heard of a pro straight, male Dominant?
Economically, this means there isn't a market for submissive women to pay some male to practice his sadistic side upon them. I'm not sure what this says about the genders. Automatically, I draw conclusions that it is a product of our male-dominated society. But that is my intellectual assessment. Emotionally, identifying with male sexuality, I feel like a creep. That I have the internal capacity just as a male to need sex so much that I would dole out money feels gross, feels a little unhealthy. Admittedly, the perception is that boys think about sex more than girls. I'm told WAY more than girls, but that is the kind of gross over-generalization that i care not to make on these pages. That being said, it makes sense, or at least the absence of this kind of media isn't a shock. Maybe male Tops have to maintain a certain mystique that the oral/aural presentation of a podcast doesn't fit? Maybe they are those of few words, and thus couldn't fill the timeslot allocated for a show. Maybe trust is a bigger deal with women, and men will put themselves in considerably riskier scenarios just to blow their load.
I genuinely cannot offer an explanation for why there isn't a bevy of submissive females who need to be under the firm hand of a sadistic Top so badly that they are willing to pay hard-earned cash, or, at the very least, tune-in to hear him talk about it.
One thing i've noticed, and it's echoed here in the kinky blogosphere, is the absolute dearth of straight, male dominants/Tops hosting their own podcast (and if indeed there is a show, please feel free to let me know. I'd love to tune in). There is an endless number of quality shows consistent of females of all sexuality, and there are even a number of submissive males. Where are the straight male Tops? Does our viewpoint not excite enough of a following that a podcast hosted by one would find its way into my iTunes store? Some of this is self-explanatory. There just isn't an audience for the male perspective, especially when that perspective is trying to entice a female audience.
And that's when another thought occurred to me. In a good number of these shows, there are plenty of stories of men paying women a fee for a session of sadistic domination. None of these stories go in the opposite direction. Why have i never heard of a pro straight, male Dominant?
Economically, this means there isn't a market for submissive women to pay some male to practice his sadistic side upon them. I'm not sure what this says about the genders. Automatically, I draw conclusions that it is a product of our male-dominated society. But that is my intellectual assessment. Emotionally, identifying with male sexuality, I feel like a creep. That I have the internal capacity just as a male to need sex so much that I would dole out money feels gross, feels a little unhealthy. Admittedly, the perception is that boys think about sex more than girls. I'm told WAY more than girls, but that is the kind of gross over-generalization that i care not to make on these pages. That being said, it makes sense, or at least the absence of this kind of media isn't a shock. Maybe male Tops have to maintain a certain mystique that the oral/aural presentation of a podcast doesn't fit? Maybe they are those of few words, and thus couldn't fill the timeslot allocated for a show. Maybe trust is a bigger deal with women, and men will put themselves in considerably riskier scenarios just to blow their load.
I genuinely cannot offer an explanation for why there isn't a bevy of submissive females who need to be under the firm hand of a sadistic Top so badly that they are willing to pay hard-earned cash, or, at the very least, tune-in to hear him talk about it.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Myjaculate
No one's ever asked me to discuss my take on the male ejaculatory orgasm, let alone write 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.
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.
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