As I grow and explore all the facets of myself that have lie dormant the past decade, I often find myself running headlong into ideas that both fascinate me and set my anxiety to full throttle. In many ways it’s like being a clumsy teenager again, where I know I want to try something but my inexperience sets my nerves ablaze. The perfectionist within me hates being unprepared or to look foolish or awkward, which leads me to over prepare and over anticipate and generally short circuit myself. This habit at least makes sense when I’m expecting to try something new and I’m nothing but nervous smiles and silly giggles. My protective mechanisms kick in and I react by becoming a nervous school girl. I get that. What I don’t get is why it happens when I’m expecting or presented with something I’m already done? Why the anxiety and insecurity over something I not only can handle but also enjoy?
This happens with me in a few key areas, and I’m sure they both drive Mrs. AP crazy. Sometimes, truly, I don’t know how she puts up with me. It must be love.
First point, I have absolutely no fear of my own orgasmic fluids. We are very familiar, my semen and I, and not just in the role of my built in generation, storage,and delivery systems. From the masturbatory heavy years of my teenage year I have been sampling my own fluids by various means. Sometimes there’s been a little left after orgasm that begins to drip out as return to a flaccid state. No worries; just a quick flick of the finger from tip to mouth, and that drip is gone. Other times, when poor planning has resulted in no safe place to spill my seed without making an inopportune mess, I’ve done my best to catch everything in my hand. But wait, there’s still no way to clean up! Still no worries; a quick lick clean and I can wash my hands in short order (please note, this is exclusively a case of being in bed, tired, aroused, and not wanting to leave the comfort of the sheets and pillows. Not in public. Ick!). The most unusual method, however, has come from those times when I’ve had the strong urge to be with another man but had no means to tend to this urge. In these instances I’ve cleared the bed of pillows, brought myself near to the point of no return and then acrobatically, with my head on the bed, swung my legs up over my head to rest my feet against the headboard. Hips above my head, cock pointing at my face, I have finished my self-love making, firing long-range from above directly into my mouth. My aim is generally quite accurate, and the sheets are never the wiser.
So why, then, if I am so familiar with my own taste do I hesitate to eat a creampie? I love the taste of Mrs. AP; she’s light and flowery with hints of vanilla and jasmine and an undercurrent of musk that is decidedly female and uniquely her. I could nestle my tongue between her legs and feast until my jaw and tongue can no longer move. Why, then, the hesitancy to slip down after I’ve exploded inside her and drink of the cocktail we’ve mixed together? It’s not like I don’t like it; the times I have she’s tasted amazing and I can drive her to some incredible orgasms. No, my problem is with beginning the act, as if it is something from which I must shy away. I don’t understand it, but I want to overcome it.
Secondly, I am no stranger to my own backside. For a very long time I have played with the various sensations that can be caused by relaxing, by rubbing, and by inserting objects gently. During my early 20s I would often borrow my girlfriend’s vibrator, cover it in a condom, and with some generous lube slowly slide all 8 inches into my ass. With a towel on the chair and some porn on the monitor I would bounce on the cyberskin cock in my ass while stroking my cock, and the orgasms would be explosive enough to register on the Richter Scale. After we separated I purchased the Kobe Tai Anal Adventure Kit and spent many a long shower playing with the various sleeves before painting the side of the tub with my climactic release. I know the force of my release increases dramatically when my ass is being stimulated.
Why, then, am I so hesitant to have Mrs. AP play with my ass? She’s used toys on me a few times before. The gloves that she wears when she fingers my ass feel divine, and with just the right combination of ass fucking and cock stroking she’s had me explode so forcefully I’ve painted the headboard. The one time she’s pegged me so far we hit this rhythm where it felt like I was going to cum just from the way she fucked me, because damn, can that woman work a cock like she has one of her own. I know, with no doubt, that I love it once she gets started. So why am I so hesitant to ask? When she brings it up, why do I turn down the offer more often than not? What’s holding my back from exploring all of the pleasure I know she can, and wants, to give me?
I suspect once I understand what’s holding me back a great many other things will open up to me as well.
Stay SINful, friends.