Oh look, lint (September)

Navel-gazing, mostly, in September, I’d say. Plus some frottage. Oh the frottage. Unf.

Oh, and I’ve been really enjoying unixslut’s journal / tumblr. Edit: Gone with the great tumblr purge. Go read it. It’s great stuff.

Week 4 and 5 of denial

Things felt a bit surreal. This is the navel-gazing part. I’d become acutely aware at odd times of this denial thing. Usually, I fully accept and take for granted that I don’t come, that being horny and desperate is my normal, nay desired state. Weeks 4 and 5, I saw it “from the outside” for brief periods, as it were: What on earth am I doing? Why wouldn’t I want to come whenever I want to?
Lest you think this developed into full-blown angst, it didn’t. I just acknowledged those feelings and thoughts and went on with my day. Eventually, they’d be replaced again by my usual enjoyment of denial play.

Week 6 and 7 of denial

I felt desperate sometime during week 6. So desperate for an orgasm that I was ready to genuinely beg, to do anything at all just so I might come. Unfortunately, when I was in that state, it was around midnight, and Bear was dead tired. So I didn’t beg. I whimpered. I shifted around. I moaned. And eventually I fell asleep, and the next day I was still desperate, but not so desperate as to beg for release; and the day after that, I felt considerably calmer.

Sometime during those two weeks, Bear wanted a frot session. I got him very close before I was close myself. Bear didn’t react when I told him I was close. I had half-hoped for an orgasm, but instead I brought him to orgasm with my hand, while my cock was bobbing to the side.

Bear made a point of praising me for having gotten him that close before I had to remove my cock, then teased my cock some more, and finally allowed me to hump his leg for a while. I was just about mindless at that point, nuzzling into him and rubbing my cock against his thigh and not thinking. I was sensation and desperate desire and obedience all at once, with just a small layer of conscious thought on top.

That Bear did this was immensely helpful to me. Yes, of course, there’s the sheer pleasure of it: Being praised and teased feels great. It also changes my behavior. Every time I please Bear well, and do not come myself, and Bear makes a point of giving me “positive reinforcement” for that behavior – praise, additional teasing and stimulation, whatever other scooby snacks, to borrow Thumper’s phrase, might be appropriate – I can feel my desires shifting. It changes motivation, it’s a form of behavior modification, if you so will. Sure, I’ll always be desperately horny – but increasingly desperate for sensation, not for orgasm. My desire is to concentrate on Bear’s pleasure, because that is linked to my own pleasure.

This is a gradual thing. I’m not going to be the story-book submissive that only thinks of his Master’s pleasure overnight, or maybe ever. I do know that every time Bear praises me for getting him off without coming myself, it gets easier to do that again next time.

I’ve observed that when Bear teases me while I please him, and brings me close repeatedly, even the last layer of conscious thought evaporates. It’s a wonderful state to be in, though I get to it too rarely for my own liking. I think this is what people mean when they speak of “sub space.” I avoid the term myself, but that’s only because I am suspicious of coining special terms like “sub space” and “sub drop”, which may obscure more than they illuminate. That suspicion comes from me and my particular sense of language, and does not reflect on anybody else’s use of those terms.

 Week  8 of denial

Okay I’m cheating, we’re in October. At the end of week 8, Bear wanted another frot session. I didn’t know whether I could make it through it, as I felt considerably hornier than I had a week and a half ago. Bear told me that he had been thinking of letting me come. He also told me that I was not allowed to come before he had. Hot. I love hearing that.

I made a point of keeping my foreskin over part of my glans, particularly over my frenum, to reduce sensation. I focused on Bear’s face, I focused on what gave him pleasure, rather than kinking about what I was doing to myself, how denied I was (ooo baby), or anything of that nature. I wanted to be able to get him to orgasm without getting to orgasm myself. I considered thinking about Dungeons and Dragons game mechanics, but that distracted me from Bear’s pleasure. As geeky a solution as that might be to impending orgasm, it was not really an option. I used my PC muscles (“kegeled”) a few times as I got close, which did back me off from the brink just far enough. Bear had a very satisfying orgasm, and I was just on the cusp of needing to stop all stimulation to my own cock.

Afterwards, we lay side by side. Bear was enjoying the after-glow, and my cock was twitching involuntarily. I really, really wanted some more stimulation from Bear. Which I didn’t get. I also didn’t want to disturb his afterglow.

Later that day, I told Bear that I had hoped he would tease me some more.

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry, I was enjoying the afterglow.”

“That’s perfectly alright,” I said, and meant it.

“I’ll make it up to you later with some baby oil,” Bear said.

At the end of the day, I went to bed while Bear stayed up a while longer. I figured he had changed his mind about stroking me, or forgotten about it. Far from it. At around 1AM, when he came to bed, he woke me up. He ordered me on my back, flipped back the covers, and stroked me for a few minutes, playing with hand positions to find the ones that would make me whimper and arch my back and writhe. Then he kissed me good night, I babbled submissive thankful things, and we went to sleep.

On ruined orgasms

I have a chip on my shoulder about the idea of ruined orgasms. This is another of those things with me and words. I can’t help myself. This might be a way for me to exorcise those normative demons.

So, when I read someone say – and I’m not going to call out particular people, that’s not what this is about: “I’ve been denied for two months, and I had two ruined orgasms in that time,” I twitch. I have a knee-jerk reaction. “You’re doing it wrong!” An orgasm is an orgasm, ruined or otherwise. The clock starts over. And anyway, come on, even a “ruined” orgasm (note the airquotes) is pleasurable, just not as pleasurable.

And, goshdarnit, all those things are true – for me only. That is how Bear and I roll. If I come without permission, even though “ruined”, the clock starts over. I’ve been working hard to get better at that, and I am proud and happy I got to 11 weeks at least once.

All you people out there in kinkland who have been denied for a long time, with one or a bunch of ruined orgasms in between: Rock on. This is what you do, and it’s just as keen as what I do. And I’ll keep reminding myself of that. Where on Earth do I get off even thinking about judging other people’s sexual lives? Written down, it’s ludicrous. Begone, normative demons. Bother me no more.

1 thought on “Oh look, lint (September)”

  1. I fucking love this post.

    “It changes motivation, it’s a form of behavior modification, if you so will. Sure, I’ll always be desperately horny – but increasingly desperate for sensation, not for orgasm. My desire is to concentrate on Bear’s pleasure, because that is linked to my own pleasure.”

    Preach it.

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