There’s something about getting too personal on a blog. I do my best to refrain. I have multiple blogs for multiple subjects and my semi-split or rather contradictory personalities. When I put myself out there on my blog especially for many to see I can feel a little vulnerable. But not much.. as I don’t give a fuck about what people say or think. All that matters is how I feel about things. So here is me getting a bit more personal. Enjoy it motherfuckers! 😀
The only other thing (surely not the only other thing) besides a heavy make-out session with hair becoming knotty, breaths syncing with your partner, jeans having sex with one another, foreplay as if there were no tomorrows, knees buckling under the constant sexual tension, massages that run off way into the night of something completely new. Something I truly enjoy that is a part of this list are giving handjobs. (Receiving ones too.) For me, there’s nostalgia in it.
All of these wonderful actions I mentioned were all the lovely things I started out on in my childhood. What I call the ignorant in bliss stages. The come now or never curious factor. Or freedom of an invincible kind of the expression of Self? Way before delving into sex and having it turned up its own nose on oral, vagina and anal intercourse.. There was what was and there was what is. Never mind bedroom techniques that keep the boys home loyal with or without you being by their side.
I honestly love the days when things were simple. No thoughts to ruin the underlying moment. No indecisiveness. Just total sexual combustion at will. All the easy things to get off on that required no actual penetration. I would love to go back to the time when things were still like this for me because when it comes to the complicated magnitudes of sex and all it’s idiosyncrasies, partners, conditions and affairs…I don’t know if I can win? Somewhere between one’s thoughts, feelings and biased views there are disruptive limitations quickly set by the enemy of the mind. And this is where handjobs come in.
I never give them anymore.
My nonexclusive partner wasn’t like all the other guys I dealt with. Lube IS needed. His head gets sensitive quick. I would go into it overthinking, before, during and after. It sounds a lot like this:
“Can I give a good handjob? Can I keep up with the pace my lover wants in any given position? Is his head too sensitive right now? Am I gripping too hard? (I’ve had this complaint before.) How will I know? Do I have to play with his balls now? Does he like it? Are his moans real or fake? Is there enough lube or spit on his dick? Can I compete with his techniques he’s learned and has been accustomed to since he was a teenager? Do I have to be good? Am I doing poor? Must I pressure myself? Does he have to cum every time I give him a handjob? Does any of this even matter?”
How can I make all these questions stop while giving him a handjob? Or right before I like to give him a handjob that never begins?
When younger, I would never complicate what is or what was or if I could live up to my own expectations because for some reason it didn’t matter. Sometimes the only thing I sought out for was just to have fun anytime, anywhere on every occasion like that one time at a party in the closet. I took turns with the brothers. Handjobs were fun! So now I should be saying: Who cares if the guy cums? And who cares if there isn’t any lube? It was enough for me to appreciate the act as did the people I gave handjobs to.
But now, I’m grown. I’ve tarnished everything and everything about everything has to be in a structure according to my belief system..even if it’s not true. The fuck is this about? And how can I go about healing it? Healing me? Healing the penis I know I can worship with just my hand?
This is all.