Buying Porn, Anxiety and other fond memories of sex.

You know that time when you start 'feeling old'? Many of us all probably already experienced, and all the others will feel it at one time as well. And there are a lot of you out there that will look at my age, and think I know nothing yet ;)

Of course, I could not put a photo here of a
man reading porn. Sorry women ;) Taken from
hardcoremandy.com

I have always been drawn to erotica and pornography. Not just for lust, but also that I always loved to see the form of a woman draped in such a way that it is the most beautiful, sexy and fascinating sight a man will every see. I had this from a young age, and gladly, I was raised in a part of the world where a guy my young age, before the age of 10, could still get his hands on some lecture from time to time by just being smart. Oh, I worn out those Penthouse magazines with my eyes before I knew well enough how to masturbate. And even than I read those comments next to the photos - still assuming they were real - reading that this eighteen year old woman was into this and that. Wow... eighteen... she was really a mature woman at that time.

Now, although I absolutely still love to see those photos, and I still subscribe to the Penthouse to this very day simply for nostalgic effect, but sometimes I do feel ashamed when I see that printed there - this eighteen year young girl this and that. Fuck. I am becoming an old fart!

I went through hoops to get my 'fix' of erotica when I was a teenager. The only place to get them that were accessible to me was a small kios-like store close to our school. A magazine called 'chick' sold their old magazines bundled in a tripple-pack which was perfectly priced for my wallet. And I was just tall enough to reach that top shelf. I had to work myself mentally up to even walk into that store, and overcome my fears to buy it. Keeping track if no-one was in the store, my heart racing in my throat, and then simply grabbing the pack, walking to the cash register, forking over the dough and stuffing it as soon as possible in my backpack, jump on my bike and race home.
By the time I was 15 I had a collection that could not be hidden in closets or even on my bookshelves anymore. Sorry precious teenage literature, make place for The Girls of Penthouse, Hustler and Chick.

There was something really exciting about it. The Chick, by the way, was pure trash. But at that time Hustler and Penthouse did not show porn yet, so it had to do. Even when I got my first computer halfway through the eighties, in pixelated black and white or 4-color CGA, I was watching, or drawing, porn. Right now it would seem so rediculous, but a computer would allow all kinds of visuals.
That actually even made me think. I developed stuff even at a young age, so, with a screen resolution of 320x200 in black and white (no grey gradients then) there are only 4.1 billion visuals possible. So, if I would just generate all of these possible images, I would actually also have every pornographic visual possible in any scenario. I would have the prefect pose, position with the perfect woman, any hair color (as long as it is black or white ;) ) that will ever exists. Better yet, I would have all the visuals of Game of Thrones season 12 already!

No kidding... and this was even a lot of colors... ah... it is how I learned to play poker.

Of course, I did not go that far. My computer could calculate maybe 1 images every 5 seconds that way. So, 20 billion seconds... 634 years. Game of Thrones would have been cancelled for about 625 years by then.

But that was how I wanted to see porn, and get access to it without all the anxiety. Right now, I miss that anxiety a bit. I want to see porn, I find it. I don't have to pay for it, no one may catch me, and then I have it. I have gazillions of images that I never watch. I watch 80-800 images when I masturbate when I am alone. And I cannot remember one of them. That has nothing to do with old age, but simply, it doesn't mean so much to me anymore. I still remember, in detail, those photos in those Penthouses that I looked over minute after minute. Every glittering of wetness on the lips, the closed eyes.

Maybe there is something to say for those 'good old days'.

When Cheating Becomes... A Chore

Not too long ago I was invited to a woman's house for just simply oral sex. I missed it so much. Giving oral sex is to me much more intimate than just sex, because it is so much more up close and personal. I do enjoy it the most of all the sexual acts. And this woman was craving it, since most partners did want to fuck her, but did not want to lick her. 

And I loved every single moment of it. It just was delicious. She was clean, sexy and absolutely a Michelin star quality. After she had orgasmed intensely she rewarded me with returning the favor. I have had a number of blow-jobs of different women during my life, but I have to be honest that hardly any was really good or interesting. But this lady was amazing. I could have it going on for hours the way she did it. But the moment did arrive and I enjoyed a very intense orgasm myself.
When I left, she begged me to visit her again soon, when her husband was away. As she did as well through email later on. Even then, although our arraignment was just to have oral sex, she told me that if I accidentally would slide it in, she might not refuse me being inside of her.

Another lady who I wrote with for over a year with who I have a normal friendship, turned the heat up underneath it and invited me over to meet her because her husband did not satisfy her. And she wanted to rent out a motel room so badly to just experience pure lust, the two of us.

I ended up meeting no one. Oh, believe me, parts of me wanted to badly, but it felt just as if it wasn't worth it anymore. I did not cheat often on my wife since I had to confess to her that I did it, now almost three years ago. Actually, I only have been once inside of another woman since then. 
And it is not that the scenery has changed, but more that something feels like it is becoming a bother. It becomes sex for the sex. When I was younger, I could have sex with anyone. I had sex with models, as well as women who were - slightly said - not so pretty. Some where young, some were twice my age. It was more about how sexual someone was that made me want to be with them. And although I behaved so very well before I lost my virginity; I made up a lot after that moment in time. 

But now, especially after I felt the fear of my life slipping away by leaving it in my wife's hand

what to do after I confessed to her, it feels that it should be more than just sex. My body aches for it, begs me to find a woman and just fuck her. But my mind is not that blend. I want to find a woman who is unique, gorgeous, delicious and lovely and smart. I want to be really attracted to her, wanting to be with her and thinking of her when I close my eyes. So that when we can be together alone, the desire and passion is much more intense than a 'quickie'.

I hear my old self beating me up, calling me a fool. But maybe it is more life experience. I would like to be with someone special if I am going to risk it all again. Someone gorgeous, and someone who puts me under her spell. It is too easy to cheat, harder to do it right.

Ahhhh.... Massage!

My wife got me addicted to a maybe healthy addiction. Massages. A couple of months age when I called in sick cough cough for work, she told me to join her for a couple of hours at the spa. As the standard guy of course I did not feel comfortable. Because however I liked the thought of a woman touching me, it is not a manly thing... of course ;) Two hours later I had signed up for the monthly plan.

I may sound so overly sexual here, but it doesn't mean that I am like that in the real life where you would meet me day after day. It took me a couple of visits before I actually went naked. And my wife had no problems with the fact that a young girl would touch me. Well, it was not that weird, because it might sound erotic to people who haven't taken a legit massage, but it is not that erotic at all. But man, it is so delicious.

I actually have behaving pretty well lately, and not been involved with just anyone. I decided that if I want to risk my marriage and my life, she will have to be pretty amazing. I am always looking, but not anymore for just anyone. But that also meant that with sex still being very absent in our marriage, there is a lot less passion to share.

Which, at one moment, got me to a weird idea. Maybe a not so legit massage would be in order. Maybe the thought of a massage parlor that does more than just massage. I was reading up on reviews, and actually there was a highly reviewed one near my work, when I actually thought about that a little bit more.

I will be very honest, the thought to be with a cute - most likely Asian - girl sounds very inviting, especially because the one near my place of work offered to so called full-service treatment (I have learned a lot ;) ). But finally it dawned on me; that is not what I want. Not even because it is actually prostitution. I come from a country where that is very legal, and it was not even that. It was that here, it simply is not that simple. And then the whole idea started to become weird. Was my lust for sex getting so overwhelming that I would not even care if a girl would do it voluntarily or not.

Yes, men can be so stupid from time to time, and really do let their dick think for them.

So what I ended up with was a perfect compromise. I found a legit massage therapist, an older woman. Not beautiful or anything sexual. Also close by, and she actually got great reviews. But the only thing was, that was different from a regular spa, she did not drape you.
So I planned a massage with her, and indeed, there was a nice room, warm, and just a table.

No blanket. And the massage was wonderful. And even though I would love to say that it didn't happen, but when turning around I could not do anything, no blanket to hide my erection. And she massages perfectly around it, neatly cleaning up the pre-cum, while staying so professional. It was incredibly relieving. Somehow, that hour on that table might have been as sexual to me as it could be. Not because of anything happening, but just being me, relaxing, and being just me. Nothing hiding myself, and most likely for her, nothing she has never seen yet. Something about that completely opening up felt so good. And another massage is planned for next week. Ah.