Sunday, December 24, 2017


Originally I had no intention to make a separate Christmas Eve post this year, or if I did, to do it about the new anal toys Santa brought me. There won't be many of them though, due to the fact the only person in my life that cares me enough to give me naughty presents is me, or nice for that matter.

Then a sudden inspiration hit me. I started to write a comment on Fetlife, and the next thing I knew I had written out a semi-elaborate fantasy long enough even for a blog post. The group in question was for "chronic masturbators", but the post I wrote my comment on was about medical fantasies.

Since it's Christmas, I decided to post my little fantasy here, as well. I suppose the more proper place for it would have been my fiction blog, but I'll bend my own rues a bit this time. The story combines elements from my fantasies, as well as several stories I have either read or written, but was never able to finish. I hope you like it.

I'm a fan of medical fantasies. Hospitals seem to take away one's basic rights, and make you a part of a system, that has control over you and your bodily functions. When you're in a hospital, you're not a human being anymore, just a piece of flesh. It is not a small wonder nurses and doctors are a fetish for many.

In my fantasy I am admitted to a hospital, perhaps an infertility clinic. The female staff informs me, that as long as I'm there I am not to wear any clothing, or to appear outside my room other than on all fours. I am, for all intents and purposes, made a slave for the entire staff. I am being subjected to various humiliating procedures, the least of which is not being forced to give out the sperm samples regularly while being observed by a member of the female staff every time.

Imagining things like that have always fed quite nicely my need to be humiliated semi-publicly, even to be treated as an inanimate object without rights or a will of my own. Also, due to being a type one diabetic I have had a fair share of experiences of hospitals and nurses, and it is quite easy for me to imagine a number of humiliating experiences that take place in a such setting.

Soon masturbating and ejaculating loses all its erotic quality for me. It is merely a thing I do when I'm being told to, without thinking it twice. I get used to doing it while being observed by a person or several of them, without any kind of privacy, even to do it in a hospital corridor while I'm waiting my turn to be called in for yet another humiliating experience. Masturbating and ejaculating are normal bodily functions, the nurses tell me, and it would do good for me to get rid of all the shame and inhibitions about it.

At one point it is decided I will be given shots to my testicles. At first I am apprehensive, but the nurses assure me it's for my own good. After the first shots I am being told this is a part of an important experiment, and the drug will increase the amount of semen being produced there. This in turn increases my horniness and forces me to empty my testicles even more often than before. 

The more shots I am being given the heavier and fuller my testicles feel, very soon making me to masturbate continually. All the semen is being collected, "for examination purposes" the nurses tell me. I am also informed that all my masturbating will be filmed, and I do some of it in a kind of medical theater, with the whole staff observing. 

If this was a short story, it would be necessary to make the protagonist object to what's happening to him, to fight back, even for a little bit. However, the nurses explain carefully to the protagonist, to me that is, there isn't anything wrong here, and I should stop complaining. They are doing their very best to cure my infertility, and I am not helping. Soon I understand it would be best just to comply.

Time passes, and days turn into weeks and months without me even realizing it. I am in fact quite content with my life inside the institution. Constantly masturbating and cumming isn't that bad a life, after all? Even doing it semi-publicly is something one gets used to amazingly quickly.

Finally, however, I am being told that everything that has happened, or the whole experiment, has in fact had nothing to do with curing my infertility. Instead my semen has been used as a raw material for making high-quality shoe polish for women. The hospital makes some of its profits this way, and my testicles have reacted to the new drug extremely well. Also, the cum my testicles produce has an extremely low sperm count, making it an excellent raw material.

I am also being told there is nothing unethical let alone illegal about the whole process, because it has being done under the consent of my wife. As soon as it was found out how well my testicles responded to the drug, and how low the sperm count in my cum was, they signed a contract that gives the hospital full authority over me, and my wife a fair share of the profits.

They also tell me my wife has no desire to continue her life with me, because it is now certain no miracle cure will increase the sperm count in my semen, and I will never be able to father a child with it. And why would the hospital even want to do it? The cum my testicles now produce benefits it, and my wife, far more than I ever could. Let alone all the happy customers using the product. 

I admit this part of the fantasy has always seemed a bit implausible for me personally, since I've never had a wife, or even a girlfriend who I could picture in that role. But "the evil wife" seems to be a very common trope in a stories written by and for submissive males, and the story needs it, so I'll let it be. But it could be the protagonist's evil girlfriend as well, or evil mother, or even an evil big sister. Who knows, perhaps all of them together.   

After some time passes again I am being informed that despite my constant masturbating I am too ineffective getting all the sperm out of my testicles myself. That is, too ineffective for the hospital to make the kind of profit in needs to. It turns out the new shoe polish is in high demand, and both the hospital and my wife have come to the conclusion the production needs to be speeded up. 

Therefore I am being taken out of the hospital and brought to the shoe-polish making facility itself. I am being wheeled into a huge factory hall and a huge apparatus that covers my whole groin area is being lowered from above. I am being attached to the milking machine and it starts to masturbate me continually, as well as inject my testicles with the drug regularly. 

The technicians leave, the nurses leave without saying a word, and I look around me. There are tubes going from the apparatus to huge tanks where my sperm is being stored. I have no option that just to lay there, unable to move, and turned into a human semen cow.

Merry Christmas!

Thursday, November 16, 2017


Last night my special friend and I had our first virtual date. We had been talking about it for quite some time, and it had been postponed once already due to her schedules, so it's nice we finally managed to do it. It is the first virtual date of my life, as well as my first date as a girl. In a way it was my first actual date ever.

For the occasion my special friend gave me an order to post the following on Facebook and elsewhere on social media, after I had suggested it would be nice to do something like that. The thing is, now and then I have noticed posts from my fellow pervs that must have been done for their Mistresses.     

Under orders from my Owner I want everyone to now I haven't had a single orgasm after October the first. During the course of that 45 days she has had 258 orgasms, making the ratio between my orgasm and hers 0,0039. She also wants me to inform me you all I have wasted my time by masturbating for approximately four hours so far.

I also designed a new cover picture for my Twitter and Facebook accounts, and changed the color scheme of the former and my Tumblr account, for the occasion, and as a present for my friend. The thing is, we have chosen teal as the colour code for my friend on my chastity calendar, and we've both been very excited to have her colour to gradually fill it. So, naturally it was more than fitting to use it elsewhere, too.

You can see the Twitter cover picture I designed here. I was very pleased to hear my friend like her gift very much.

The date itself was very lovely, even though we had a couple of technical setbacks, and I had great difficulties deciding what I should wear for my first date as a girl, even a virtual one. I finally settled to my black knee-high socks, black stockings, my black mini-skirt, and a rather fabulous looking, shiny and velvety, burgundy coloured top I haven't had chance to use yet, and narrow black stud decorated "slave necklace". 

I looked, even if I say so myself, extremely fuckable in my outfit. As well as incredibly gay. To add the fun I had also suggested I could wear my t-shaped anal toy and my extra-tiny chastity cage for the occasion, a suggestion my friend loved.

During our date we watched one movie and a one documentary, The Miracle at Morgan's Creek (1944) and Celluloid Closet (1995) the both of which I had suggested for us to watch.

The first is a very much a child of its time, but also a very unusual movie because the subject matter is premarital sex and pregnancy, even though not technically. It's a classic screwball comedy full of great performances and unconventional female characters, as well as one male one, and it has always been one of my favourites,

The latter is a documentary that deals with how homosexuality has been dealt with in mainstream Hollywood movie, from the silent era to mid 1990's. I have seen the documentary a numerous times, but it was a very profound experience for me.

Not only it is a great and powerful documentary, but this time I have a whole new angle to it, as you may guess, after having understood I am actually genderqueer myself. To watch the documentary in girly clothes and a toy in my ass added a whole new level to the watching experience, too.

We discussed them both after and between the movies, and to my satisfaction my friend liked them a great deal. Since my friend is a bi and genderqueer herself the documentary hit very close to her as well. She said she has now a long list of movies to watch, and thet she wants to show the documentary to her queer friends, which I am very glad to hear. 

After our discussion we gradually moved on to more steamy subjects, but my friend said she didn't want me to remove my tiny cage just yet. She said she is going to masturbate herself to several orgasms, and wanted me to describe how I pictured her fucking me at the end of our date night. She wanted my attention to be on that, not on pulling my clit.

"I love cumming when you're locked up, it heightens it a little", she said.

"Well", I begun. "I think first you would tell me to go and remove the panties, and preferably the top too. I could also use some of your bras, to make me look more girly, if that's okay to you. After that you would send me to get some lube, because it would be high time to stop playing around."

She would lay on the bed, waiting and idly caressing her strap-on. I would return, in my knee high socks and miniskirt and bra, looking like a real sex slave. She would tell me to lube her cock, since "no fucking way she is doing it for herself, if there's someone like me to do it for her".

I would put lube on her cock, and then but my hand to it, gliding it up, and down... up and down. She would look at this approvingly, and after a while say: "Okay, hop on it". She would look at my astonished face and continue: "You didn't think I would be doing the hard work? Think again. I want to see what you look like when you're impaled by my massive cock."

I would look for a towel but she would just say: "Forget it, wipe it on yourself" and I would do so. Gingerly I would straddle her, and start guiding the tip of her cock to my pussy opening. She would smirk, clearly enjoying the situation.

Then, after I have managed to put the tip the right place, I would start lowering myself, by letting my weight do the work. I would let out a long: "Oooooooooohhhhh..." and saw her smile ever broader. It would feel so good. I would feel so full. Filled completely by her.

I would lift myself a few times, and then lower myself again. My legs would be spread wide as I leaned backwards. I would notice her looking at my tiny shiny cage and smile, if possible, even more broadly.

I would enjoy her looking at my caged clit, as well as my deliciously full balls. "I'd like to take a grip of them as I cum", she said at this point, in real life this time. "Please do", I said. "I want you to do it." She would reach over and a wide smile would find itself on my face. "That feels good", I would say. "Please, squeeze them good."

"Lean forward" she would say after a while, letting go. "I want you closer. I would do as I am told, put my hands flat on the bed, and start riding her cock, our faces only a little distance from each other. "This feels so good", I would say, as I let my ass glide up and down on her huge cock.

"Your cock feels so good inside me. If fills me so well. You have the most magnificent cock, my love." She would keep her arms behind her neck and smile, enjoying the show. "Why, thank you", she would say and smirk. "Keep going. I will tell you when to stop. I love watching my slut fuck herself on my cock. I could watch it forever."

After a while she would glide her fingertips and nails on my skin. The sides of my legs, under my short skirt, and cupping my soft and hairless ass cheeks. Then coming to the front and taking a good hold of my cage and testicles. Up my belly, and under the bra, giving my nipples a good twist. So hard I would yell out loud.

"Please..." I would say." She would sigh, irritated. "Shut up. I'm having fun here. In case you meant, please do it harder." I would nod. "Y-yes. I meant just that. Please hurt me more. Please pinch my nipples harder." Then she would do just that and I would let out a long wail. "God I love you!" I would say, and hear her chuckle. "I love you too, my love."

Finally her hands would go to up to my shoulders and squeeze the muscles there, hard like a butcher. "Mmmmmm...You have such nice muscles here" she would say. "Who would have believed... Such a sissy. You must work out or something. I love how muscular and at the same time girly these are. Smooth, pale, white and flawless..."

"Just like these", she would say as her fingers and fingernails start to descend, over my strained biceps. She would squeeze them, so that her fingernails dig into the pale skin. "I told you I like nice arms. Yours are so beautiful I'd like to eat them."

Then she would start to go up again, over my shoulders and up to my neck. Her fingers would go into my full, long hair and take a good hold of it. "You didn't lie. This is pretty long already. Just the kind of hair that is nice to take a good hold of. And it's nice and long in the back too. I can't wait for us to get it even longer."

I would nod. "Me neither", I would say and see her smile. "You can't wait to look like a real girl, don't you?" she would continue. "So that everyone would see it, so that you wouldn't be able to hide it from anyone?" I would nod again and gasp "Exactly, my love. I want the whole world to see I'm  a girl".

"Come here and kiss me", you would say and I would lean down, and we would have a long, desperate tongue kiss, us both incredibly horny. "God I love you so", she would say as well break it. "I love you so for doing everything I tell you. I love you so for letting me to keep you forever denied. And above all, I love you for doing it willingly and eagerly. The mere thought makes me so wet. Now, continue fucking."

I would do as I am told and continue fucking her huge cock. She would put her hand to my hair again, then let them to go over to play with my ears. She would smirk as she starts circling her index fingers around at the opening of my ear, and seeing the effect it has on me. Seeing me go completely nuts.

"Oh, you'd like me to penetrate you here as well?" she would say. "The fact that my cock is impaling your sissy asshole isn't enough?" I nod. "No, it i-isn't", I say. Please fuck me in the ear." She would sigh again. "Such a greedy little slut", she would say disapprovingly, and slide both of her fingers into my ears.

Immediately my eyes close, my mouth opens and if she didn't know better she would most likely think I had just cummed. "Ohhhhhhhhhh", I gasp. "Please... just like that. Please fuck me in the ears. Let me be your total slut." After she stops I hear her chuckle. "You are my total slut. I don't have to fuck your ears to know that. But it's so fun to play with you."

Then she would slide her index fingers over my hot cheeks to my mouth. "Open", she would say and slide both of your index fingers in, just in case there was any wax in them. "Lick", she would say and I would dutifully start licking both of them clean. You chuckle. "You really do anything I tell you to?" she asks. I nod, still riding on her magnificent cock. "Of course I would, because I love you."

"Mmmmmm, good girl", she would say and take my face into her hands. "You look so beautiful. Your skin is so flawless. And you look especially beautiful when you are being hurt, did you know that?" I shake my head between thrusts. "Well, now you do. Expect to be hurt a lot in the future because of that. And I mean a lot."

Then she would slide your hands to the sides of my head and take a good hold of my hair again. "Okay, let's see you fuck my cock real good and real fast. Let's do a grande finale, my love. I expect to see blood on my cock when you get up. If there isn't, you will regret it."

All through my little story there my friend remained mostly quiet, and informed me of her orgasms simply typing numbers: "1", "2", "3" and so on. I felt so used as I was typing, because I knew I wasn't getting any kind of physical pleasure out of this, I was simply providing sexual pleasure to someone else, I was a mere sex toy. I loved that feeling immensely.

Soon after her final orgasm my friend started to be ready to fall asleep, and finally did so, as she later said "her fingers in her panties and me in her mind". In the morning she also informed me she had masturbated herself to orgasm reading again what I had written. What can I say, it's nice to feel oneself useful.

That is also one of the reasons for me to make this blog post, to make what I written easier for her to find, and masturbate to later. I also hope other people may find the description arousing, perhaps even arousing enough to masturbate and cum to.

All in all, not the worst virtual date, wouldn't you say?

Saturday, November 4, 2017


What comes in the life of a chaste sissy after Locktober? No-vember. *bada-boom-tshihh*

In my earlier post I had a lot to talk about, as I more or less came out of the closet, and described my emotional roller-coaster when it comes to dealing with and coming to terms with my newfound femininity. But this is supposed to be a chastity blog, as well. How is my chastity going?

As I said in my earlier post, I have now a special on-line friend who has expressed to me how much she likes to keep me denied and frustrated. She has allowed me to cum once, in the beginning of October, but has no plans of doing so again in a long, long while.

I am perfectly fine with all of this, because as all of the faithful readers of my blog know, I have desperately needed someone in my life who would care me enough to forbid cumming from me. Or, to look at it differently, to take away the burden and responsibility of deciding when and how to cum.

As I am writing this it is certain I won't cum any more this year. I have now 34 days of chastity behind me, and by the time it's time to pull out the fireworks the day count will be 91. Still pitifully low figure, I now.

As you know, I am a number nerd. I have kept a chastity calendar since 2012, and calculating my chastity in different ways have been fetish of mine for a long time, often in the way of contrasts my lack of sexual pleasure to that of someone else.

We have, in fact, kept a joint orgasm diary with my special friend, since the beginning of October. It's in the form of a Google spreadsheet she updates every day from her phone, and which I maintain and have developed further in the course of past month.

I am very happy I suggested the idea of my friend, since as soon as I had told her the ratio between her orgasms and mine after a mere few days, she got extremely excited about the idea. Math can be very sexy, since after twenty of her orgasms the ratio between us had dropped to 0,05, a fact we both found quite a turn-on.

The spreadsheet is, even though I say so myself, a piece of art I look at daily and usually masturbate while doing so, as well. As does she, I've understood, the only difference being she cums while doing so, whereas I do not, naturally.

Not only does the spreadsheet tell the number of her orgasms and it's ratio and percentage to mine, it calculates the time it will take, with the current average, for the ratio to drop under 0,001. In other words, when my friend has had 1001 orgasms.  
A thousand orgasms? I know the figure sounds enormous, but in my friend's case it's not that much. My friend is a multiple cummer, and is good at what she does. One might say she is as good in cumming as I am in not cumming.

In the course of the first month we have kept a record managed to cum 171 times, which sounds a lot especially compared to my one orgasm, but in fact it is only 5,5 orgasms per day on average. Naturally I try to help her cum as often as possible.

The math games have become quite an integral part of our mutual erotic life. For example we have both been fascinated how much her number of daily orgasms affects the total day estimate, or how many days there would be to go with the current orgasm rate.

If she comes a lot or at least over the current average, which is at the moment about five orgasms per day, the estimated date comes closer. But if she is otherwise busy and doesn't cum at all, it has a dramatic effect on the time we still have ahead of us.

In fact merely by controlling the number of orgasms she has daily she can keep the remaining days count as constant. The past few weeks it has remained nicely at 140 to 150 days and I hope it will stay there for a long time to come. The fact that no matter how much time passes the day isn't getting any closer is quite erotic.

We have also calculated how long it will take until she is unable to keep the number at current level before the laws of mathematics come into play. According my calculations, with current rate that would take place in mid March and after that it would take about a month for us to reach 1000 of her orgasms.

But like I have said, it all depends how many orgasms my friend will have daily. For example if she she started cumming merely once a day, it would take until February 2019 for us to reach 1000 orgasms. The truth, I think, is somewhere between.

We are now closing 200 of her orgasm, meaning it would take around five to six months in all for her to reach our goal. However, that does not automatically mean a permission to cum for me. The number of my orgasms to stay in one has merely been the condition for our calculations to be correct.

Truth to tell of us haven't even suggested anything of the such, not her nor me. In fact just a few days ago she mentioned she has no plans whatsoever to let me cum in next April, never has. She has always planned to keep me denied much longer than that. Since, as she says, she feels I could do so much more.

She would, in fact, very much like to make me break my previous chastity record this time. 

Meaning she would like me to be in chastity 497 days for her.

I admit, I had fantasized about just that for some time. Like I have stated earlier on this blog, I have had no illusions of ever being to break my 497 day record, partly because I didn't believe never being able to find anyone to do it for.

But now I have. I have now in my life someone who I am doing my chastity for, who actually likes me being denied, and is very determined about it.

But still, the step from 34 to 500 days of chastity is a huge one, and a commitment not to be taken lightly. If I had said yes it would mean I had willingly agreed not to cum even once in 2018. After all, breaking my record wouldn't take place until February the 10th, 2019.

The thought scares and horrifies me, and as such turns me on incredibly. To willingly commit oneself for such a long time would be insane. After all, I am not young anymore, and for me year and a half is a long time. Part of the reason for being horrified is naturally the fact I would like to say yes.

I would very much like to agree. Because it's the length of the time that I would have before is exactly the thing that makes it incredibly erotic for. Even the mere knowledge of my friend even asking me a thing like that is erotic beyond belief. I am edging my limp member furiously as I am writing this.

And isn't this exactly what I have wanted? I have whined for ages on this blog for not having someone to control my orgasms, and forbidding me to cum. I have now a person in my life who wants to do just that, and I'm still not satisfied? All this whining about such a meaningless thing as not cumming next year. Talk about ungrateful.

And lets not forget the fact she actually, truly wants me to do this for her. Thinking about the control she has over me, thinking about me sexually frustrated and denied, truly brings her pleasure. The idea of me not cumming makes her wet. Why should I be so selfish, and deny her that?

It may also be good to mention at this point that as you may have noticed, we are talking about merely breaking my record, not a permission to cum. My friend seems to enjoy great deal having a willing sub like me to play with, and there are no telling what her next goal would be.

Also, chastity is something the appetite for grows over time, and if past is any indication, after I reach 500 days, I most likely see no reason to stop there. I know myself too well.

As you can see from this post I'm a bit of an emotional turmoil right now. I would very much like to say yes, but at the same time the rational part of my mind keeps telling me it would make more sense to proceed with smaller steps.

After all, if I had known way back in November 2013 that I wouldn't cum for the next 497 days I'm not at all sure I'd had guts even to begin my chastity. What if the mere idea of the 465 days I would have before me is simply too much for me to bear?

Wednesday, October 25, 2017


Hello, all my faithful readers.

I know it's been a while since I've updated my blog. As usual, the reasons for the silence are various. My initial reason was the fact that for a long time nothing happened in my life that seemed worth updating about. Then something happened and suddenly I had so much to tell about I was uncertain how I could fit it all into one post.

After the ruined orgasm I had in June and which I told you about in my previous blog post, my life was for a long time rather busy, somewhat lonely and not very sexy. Neither did I afford getting any new anal toys to tell you about. I also had some rather bad, even life-altering news having to do with my health.

I did get one toy, and I even considered making an update about it. The toy in question was a very affordable, and extra-extra-small cock cage I immediately fell in love with. It was a perfect fit for my tiny nub and I was amazed how comfortable, safe and secure I felt as I had it on.   

But other than that, there was not much to tell about. I continued my chastity because I didn't want to return to the days of reckless cumming I had in January and February. After all, during two short months I was responsible of twenty ejaculations in total, which I still regret, even though I had permission to them.

By the beginning of the fall I was in fact was so miserable I started experimenting on myself and developed an interesting technique. Some mornings when I woke up with full bladder and extremely horny, I started edging right away, and after a short period of tugging my limp penis and watching porn, I pushed my lower abdomen sharply while at the same pulling the skin of my penis tightly back. 

Like a clockwork, that did the trick every time. No matter what I would have done at that point, even though I didn't move my fingers the slightest bit, the technique triggered a nice little ruined orgasm, usually with one little spurt of sperm a few seconds later.

For some reason the spurt even didn't take away my horniness, at least not immediately. Often I was so horny it felt very sexy for me to slurp up my own cum, which I usually have great difficulties to do, if I've had the a full, relaxing orgasm and a cooling period afterwards. One could even say I got used to the taste of my own cum. 

This all took place sometime in August. However, after a few of those instances I stopped my experiments, because I felt I was doing something wrong. Also, I had stared to become very good at it and the ruined orgasms had begun giving me way too much pleasure.

One of the reasons for me stopping was also a person who entered my life in the latter part of the summer. The person in question lives abroad, but in a very short period of time, especially the last two months, we have become rather close.

My new very special friend, as I like to call her, is dominant by nature, and had told me how much she liked the idea of me not cumming. Therefore, after I told her about my "experiments" she expressed her dissatisfaction about the fact, and said I should have reach out to her if I felt too lonely, or miserable.

I must admit I hadn't understood how serious she had been about me. However, since I had desperately looked for a person who would care enough whether I ejaculated or not, to forbid it from me, it didn't take much for me to give her the control of my orgasms, which she gladly took. I have been very happy ever since.

So far she has allowed me only one orgasm, in the beginning of October. It also looks like it was the last orgasm for me this year. This is however, what I wanted. I need my orgasms to be controlled by someone else's whims, even if it means my testicles will be denied of the releases they would "normally" get. 

My new friend quickly became a very integral part of my erotic life. She took great erotic enjoyment of keeping me denied, and I was more than happy to become her sex toy. The sessions of us masturbating together on-line have been incredibly steamy. Many times she manages to have several orgasms per session, without me having a single one

I have been eager offering her information of all the things I have described on this blog in the past. They include nipple torture, clothespins, bladder torture, anal play and feminization, a thing I got to experience a little with my most recent girlfriend. In fact being a genderqueer herself, my new special friend was very interested about the latter from the very beginning, and encouraged me to explore it.

That led to a several of incredible hot sessions, in which I wore my full feminine gear, and filled my tummy and bladder with water, so that I looked like a pregnant woman. That idea turned of her on immensely, and I was happy to describe it to her in detail

Then, one time, as I was doing this, wearing nothing but black panties and a bra, black high-heeled boots, my black wig and make-up, and looking myself from a full length mirror, sitting in my chair legs spread and pulling my limp little member, something just... clicked inside my head.

I looked at myself, and realized how hot, and sexy I was. Something I hadn't ever felt, never in my life. It felt incredibly good, and natural.

Then I understood it.

I am not a man.

I have never been one.

I am a woman.

That moment an incredible amount of joy filled me. Suddenly everything made sense. What I was seeing in the mirror was something I was quite happy to be. What I wanted to be. What I was.

That experience had a monumental effect on me. It changed everything within me. One could say it may have been the most important experience in my whole adult life, at least when my erotic one in concerned. 

You may say it was only being horny, that I may just found a new kink I like, and you're correct, being turned on had a huge role in it. As you may remember, I had dressed up a bit with my girlfriend previously, but something vital had been missing.

I tried to explain this all to my special friend, all the things that made sense now. How the social role of a man had never felt right for me. My interests, my personality, none of it fit with the male role. In fact I had always hated it, and anything that came with it.

On the other hand I had known I wasn't gay either. I knew I liked girls, but I had never felt the need to penetrate one. That may have been one reasons for me for not pursuing a sex life. Or reason for not being that upset when my diabetes started to make me impotent.

Never in my life, when I'd had been in the situation I was supposed to do the act of penetration I had felt it was something I should be doing. Let alone it being something I liked. The thing is, I have never in my life "had sex", penetrative sex that is, and actually enjoyed it.

Watching porn involving intercourse had always been somewhat problematic for me, as well. It included beautiful women so it was nice to watch, but truth to tell, I had never been able to identify with the male performers. I knew I was supposed to do so, to want to fuck, and penetrate a woman, but I didn't have the slightest desire to do so. Something vital seemed to be missing from me.   

Being penetrated was another thing entirely. Something about it, even if it was only symbolic, for example my girlfriend playing with my ear, simply made me go nuts. I wanted to be penetrated. I needed it, so badly. But didn't that make me gay? If did, why didn't I like men then? You see my dilemma?

And then there was the whole concept of social role. For a long time now my best friends have been women, and many times when I've been in a company of women I have had to remind myself that I am not myself one. Especially recently I had developed a strong distaste of an attitude men often take in social situations.

For years I had been childishly proud, as I've gotten "You are a 25 year-old woman" results from one internet test after another, but it has merely been play, or having fun with stereotypes. Or to put more accurately, my need to distance myself from the male stereotype I felt I was unable to fill, that was alien to me.

I poured all this to my friend, almost in tears, still in my wig and drag gear. My friend calmed me, and said she knew I wasn't a man. That she had known it from the very beginning. As she said that I felt like crying, but also felt extremely relieved. 

The following week I felt like being high on something. I felt I had somehow given new information of the world no one else had. That I had in possession of a wonderful secret. I cannot describe or compare it to anything else than going out to oneself you're gay. Or finding God.

Suddenly there was this incredible... well, "inner peace" within me. There really isn't any other expression to describe it. I was much calmer, happier, at peace and in harmony with the world and the universe and everything, than ever before. Everything was the way it was supposed to be, now. I loved the world, and everything and everyone in it.

This all happened about two months ago. I have had time to digest the information, and to find out whether it was just a weird phase. I'm glad to say it was not. So many things now feel more natural, and comfortable, if I think myself in the role of a woman instead of man. I still feel the inner peace I described earlier. 

What will all this mean to me? Truth to tell, I have no idea. 

All I know that no matter what, deep inside me I know now what I am. What I have always been. That knowledge gives me an incredible amount of comfort, certainty and peace of mind. If nothing else, it means I can stop thinking myself as a man, or trying to live up to the measure of one, because I am not.

As far as concrete actions go, I have started taking baby steps, as they say. One of the first has been starting to re-invent my wardrobe. That has meant several visits to the local UFF store, a sort of Finnish version Oxfam, which is a great place for clothes shopping. 

So far I don't have guts to go out in a skirt, but for over a month now I haven worn anything but panties, skirts and tops while I've been indoors.  I have, however, started to add little pieces of female clothing to my everyday wardrobe. My plan is never to buy male clothes again, if it I can help it.

On numerous occasions during the past two months I have found it somewhat amusing to realize my story so far includes all the clichés a "from bad boy to good girl" type or erotic amateur fiction.

The fact I have had to make room in my wardrobe for all the new girly clothes I've gotten, by moving some of the ugly male clothes into storage. Realizing how dull, uninteresting and uncomfortable male clothing truly is. Or how skimpy and impractical the female clothing on the other hand is. Figuring out how different female garments I've never had to bother myself with actually work. Being amazed and annoyed by the fact female clothing seems to be made for pixies and hobbits. 

I have also begun watching women I see on the streets quite differently. One could call it studying them, even. We both have same amount on limbs, so what is it exactly that makes woman a woman? The female clothing works quite differently than male, and emphasizes their sexuality more, something I had never realized. 

Or, what makes a female hair look female? After all, the wig I have has a huge effect on making me look female. The best answer I have come up with is that female haircut often covers the ears, whereas the ears of men are almost always bare. The female haircut seems to aim making women look softer, but with men it's all about angles.   

There has been incredible amount of things I have taken for granted, never bothering to think about them. Things built in the programming through which society tells us what it is to be female or male. How you are supposed to look based on your gender. Things most people never question. 

My special friend has been with me on every step on the way, and even though distance separates us, she has been so far the only person in the world I have been able to talk about this, and who has rejoiced with me as I've shed bit by bit my male identity. Even though I haven't been very masculine to begin with, I admit.

I have also realized this all has something to do with my health related news I got in the summer. As I have realized the time I have in this world is limited, after all. That it doesn't serve any good to live your life trying to fulfil the expectations of others.

I also realize that whether I want it or not, I have become a cliché. A middle aged man who secretly would like to be a hot young woman. But quite frankly, it's a cliché I am very glad to be.

I still love women, perhaps more so than ever. For me they are the most beautiful thing in the world. But I understand now that as much as seeing them as objects of sexual desire my fascination and admiration of them is a need to be them. Most likely always has.  

For some of you all this may not be any kind of news, especially if you follow me on social media, since I have been very vocal about it there. However, I do believe some of you may be interested how it all happened.  

When it comes to fantasy life, which my sex life 99,99% is, I have found new freedom, and confidence. I feel extremely liberated. Suddenly the burden of being a male and everything that comes with it, the whole baggage of expectations, fears, and phobias are gone. They don't exist anymore.

Truth to tell, being "a white heterosexual male" has been something I have had trouble with a long time, something I have thought I am doomed to live with the rest of my life, something I cannot change within me, no matter how desperately I want to have nothing to do with it.  

In fact one could say that even though the roots of the recent development are in sex, the biggest impact has been a psychological, not sexual one. Me learning to see the world, and my place in it differently. Learning to call myself genderqueer now, and being extremely proud to do so.     

This blog post is dedicated to my very special friend who I have so much to thank for. Happy birthday.

Monday, June 12, 2017


"You are interested in the unknown, the mysterious, the unexplainable. That is why you are here. And now, for the first time, I am bringing to you the full story of what happened on that fateful night. I am giving you all the evidence, based only on the public testimony, of the miserable soul who survived this terrifying ordeal. The incident, the place, my friends, I can not keep this a secret any longer. Let us punish the guilty, let us reward the innocent. My friends, can your heart stand the shocking facts about Simon's ruined orgasm?"

You heard it right. The boy who doesn't want to cum has done so. I can just imagine the surprise and horror you understandably feel. After a mere one hundred and some days? Why would he do that? When did it happen, and how?  The story you're about to hear it true. And, like in all good stories, the main point is not to tell something happened, but why, and under what kind of circumstances it did so.

As you all know, I celebrated my 100 day cum ban anniversary recently. However, as you all know as well, I do my chastity more or less alone. That meant my big anniversary was also a rather lonely day for me. After a couple of days had passed I started to feel I had earned some sort of reward. Not an actual orgasm, since that would be rather pointless. But perhaps a really long edging session?

One thing I haven't gotten around to tell you yet is that I have managed to get my erotic fiction writing going again. I won't go into detail yet, and I will post it to my fiction blog as soon as I consider it's ready. The writing has progressed very slowly, though, because I naturally edge at the same time and one cannot keep it up very long.  

An interesting thing happened a few nights ago though. I have had the main arc of the story figured out in my head for a while now, but I hadn't written it down. That night I took all my clothes off, sat down, took my limp penis in my hand, and started to edge and write. 

Then, something quite amazing happened. The rest of the world just disappeared. I wrote and edged for an hour, then two hours more, then three hours. I kept edging and living the story. The fact that it was already morning outside didn't matter to me. Nor how sore my limp penis was. When I had gotten almost to the end I realized I had the first, very, very hard draft almost done I was so tired I had literally trouble keeping my eyes open, turned my computer off and collapsed on the bed. 

I woke up late in the afternoon, horny as usual, went straight to my computer, turned it back on and started to go through the stuff I had been writing the previous night. It was extremely rough, but I was pleased with it, and started to add depth to it. Naturally I started edging my limp dick, again. I understood how depraved it all was, but it didn't matter to me. This was my reward.  

At some point I visited the grocery store, since I realized after my edging is over I would need to eat, and my fridge was completely empty. There is a certain humiliating quality in going to one's around the corner grocery story that's open later than the stores here normally, ten minutes before it closes, still unshaven and knowing it's because you haven't done nothing but edged the whole day.

I had put on just enough clothes to look decent: trousers and a sort of wool sweater. As soon as I had gotten back home, even before putting the groceries away, I got rid of my clothes again, sat on my computer and continued pulling my penis.

As I look that 24 hour period back now, especially the latter part of it, it is somewhat difficult to put into order what happened and when. There was just me, my toys, the story as I was writing and of course my limp penis. 

Almost everything I have told or going to tell you about my wanking activities in this post is old news to you, things I have told about many times on my blog. Except one thing. And this is something I want to share with you next. 

As you know, I have a "wanking mirror", one I have at my bathroom door, and if put it just the right position I watch myself at the computer. There is one drawback to it, however. At my left side, between me and the mirror there is a part of my desk that blocks my view to the main event and the center of the action, that is to say, my limp penis and my hand pulling to it.

I have spent many hours trying to solve this my problem. I have even considered buying one full length mirror more I could move about and put somewhere as I masturbate. However, it would be rather hard to explain having it lying around in my apartment.

As I was masturbating, however, I got a stroke of genius. I visited my storage room in the basement of my apartment and remembered I had a couple of pieces of mirror I had used to make my full body mirrors in my apartment with. Could they be of help? I tried several places for them, but each was more poor then the last one. 

Then, as a last resort I tried to put one on my computer desk so that it was resting to the side of my screen. A wide smile appeared on my face as I realized the position was perfect! I couldn't see my face, but everything from neck down, all the way to half way of my thigh. 

As I started to masturbate it was hard to describe my feelings. Having to look himself masturbate like that was humiliating beyond belief. It was like being watched, and at the same time watching someone else to masturbate. With the difference, it was me who was doing both the masturbating and watching. In a way it was also like watching the hottest porn imaginable from a high definition screen. After all, the rectangular piece were almost as wide as my computer screen.

However, the best was yet to come. It took me a couple of hours to realize I did have two of those things. What if I took out the other one as well? I did just that, and set it up on the other side of the screen, slightly tilted. 

As I sat down, you should have seen my face, or the sight before me. Not one, but two life size versions of myself under the hard light of my desk lamp. As I continued edging, it was very hard to concentrate on the erotic imaged or the text I was writing, and not stare my own image masturbating my pathetically small dick.

At some point I had dug out also my clothespins, as well. I was doing my edging with my windows and balcony door open, and the cool air caressing my naked body practically invited my nipples out and to be played with. Also, when I edge, pain becomes an extremely strong aphrodisiac. When one considers I edged most of that 24 hour period, it goes without saying my eager nipples experienced quite a ride that night. 

It was also a totally new and exciting experience to look at myself from the two mirrors I mentioned with a brightly colored, big clothespin biting nasty on my each nipple. I also noticed the mirrors were very handy when putting the pins on, and defining the exact place on the nipple where the pin would hurt the most.

Naturally at some point I got out my butt plugs as well. It's still hard for me to get over how strange sex toys they are. Before one indulges using them the mere thought seems a bit repulsive, scary even. But as soon as you've managed to get your ass relaxed and gotten your biggest toy in, and you're sitting on it, rocking yourself back and forth, so that the wonderful toy touches you just the right way it impossible for you to understand how could you have any hesitation. 

So, one could say that bit by bit I was using everything that belonged to my erotic smögåsbord. However, it was very rare I used all of them at the same time. 

At some point I realized that only thing that was no longer missing was drinking water. After all, it had been ages since I had done bladder torture properly, and this seemed a perfect occasion for it. Also, I started becoming more and more horny and reaching a state in which more nasty means more erotic. 

What was curious this time was the fact that even though there was a slight pressure as I started, the first two pints had no effect whatsoever. Then again, I hadn't done anything but masturbated the past day or so, which meaning the first two pints were most likely used by my body. 

As the night progressed I continued edging and drinking water pint after pint waiting for it to have the effect I longed for, my bladder being so full it hurt to walk, and sending sweet flashes of pain all through my body. Gradually I got closer to it, but for some reason or the other, this time the stage of extreme pain never came. Despite the fact I poured all in all 2,5 liters of water down my throat in a course of few hours.  

As the clocked closed 2 AM I stared to think in my half-crazed mind how nasty and depraved it would be if, after I had gotten desperate enough, I let out, let's say a pint full of pee and drank it. When I would be in too much agony turned out a very hard thing to define though. The pain on my bladder felt extremely good and I didn't want to let it go. Also, there was a quality of humiliation all of its own, in masturbating your limp penis and having small drops of pee spraying on your hands.

At some point the very small rational part of my mind decided it would be a good time to pee now. I got up and went to get the pint to pee in. When I saw my reflection on the full length mirrors though I was stopped on my tracks, simply from the fact how I looked. 

Just in case there are some of those among you who don't know it, I'm basically a pretty decent looking guy with an average build, round boyish face and glasses. Sort of nerdy beta male, or a grown up Harry Potter. However, the bladder torture has a way of changing my physical appearance drastically. At that moment my belly looked obscene. I was like a pregnant woman, or rather a man who has really let himself go. 

However, in my horny state, even that seemed wonderfully humiliating, and I simply had to watch my unattractive reflection from several full body mirrors at the same time, naturally at the same time masturbating my extremely limp dick. The fact I still haven't shaved added to the effect. I looked so utterly disgusting it was hard to take my eyes off my reflection. 

Finally I had to literally force myself to return to my computer with a pint in hand. I sat in my office chair, legs wide apart and while looking at my reflection from two angles, placed the pint under my limp penis and pushed. But nothing came out. 

No matter how hard I pushed, nothing. No matter what position I tried. No matter how hard I tried to calm myself I could get out only short spurts, no more than half a deciliter at a time. Naturally I drank it all, since in my state it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Also, for the first time in my life I actually savored it like a wine taster. I realized the taste isn't actually that bad, even though there something unpleasant to it, as well.

Being unable to pee even though my bladder is full is familiar to me, of course, but usually it happens after I have ejaculated. The only conclusion I came up with was the fact that my extremely long lasting penis pulling had had the same effect than cumming. That the penis around my urteha was too swollen to let pee out. 

"Well, I thought, if you are not going to let pee out, apparently you like me to pull you some more, is that it?", I thought and continued edging. So, there I was, a huge plug in the ass, bladder painfully full, tummy bulged obscenely, nipples longing to be hurt with clothespins, pulling my limp penis and watching it all from two big mirrors.       

Around this time, as you may guess, the inevitable finally happened. As I was watching myself from my mirrors, enjoying several erotic sensations at once, and giving myself short edging spurts, which I had forced to make shorter and shorter, one of them pushed me too far. 

With a some degree of pride I can say I handled the incident more calmly this time, even though it was very unfortunate and totally unplanned. As soon as I realized felt the first sensations I let go of my penis and the only thing I remember saying was: "Uh-oh". 

I waited for couple seconds and as I realized the process had now started and this would be it, I squeezed the limp penis shut with two of my fingers. I felt two small spasms I tried very hard not to even notice as I was intently observing my limp penis. I was totally coherent the whole time and if something I was filled with almost scientific curiosity.

I waited a few seconds more and after the incident seemed to be over I let go of my penis, and saw a tiny amount of cum dribble in the pint I was holding. There hadn't been nothing I could define as orgasm, no fireworks. All I did was say: "Oh dear" as I saw the cum, and went to wash the pint. 

For the first couple of minutes I tried hard not to think what had just happened, since I was all but proud that I had let cum escape my testicles. However, I thought, this would be a great experiment. How a tiny amount of cum, and a totally ruined ejaculation would affect my libido, if at all?

How has it worked then, you ask? Immediately after the event, I admit, it felt almost as if I'd had and actual orgasm. I noticed my horniness was gone, and started putting away the things I had used during the past 24 hours and cleaning up my apartment. 

My mind was in a turmoil emotionally and I kept thinking what I should do now when it comes to the day count. Did this qualify as an orgasm? However, this time there wasn't the kind of despair I had felt when my 497 day cum ban had been broken. I approached the question almost as if it hadn't actually been me at all. 

However, even though I wouldn't have wanted to admit it, physically I felt just like I had just had an orgasm. I was now cool, rational, and part of me wanted to put the whole episode out of my head, a thing so familiar to most men. But I couldn't escape the fact that my experience did qualify as an orgasm, even though a very unpleasant and most definitely a ruined one.

The next day I was very productive. No longer I had the need to edge myself constantly and I hardly thought sex at all. The interesting effects started one night after the incident. In fact, for the past two nights now I have woken up hours before I should have gotten up, extremely horny and agitated. My penis has been limp on both times, but I have had almost uncontrollable need to start masturbate and cum that instant. Naturally I have avoided it both times. My testicles seems to be working at full steam, after all.

Even though my little incident was far from an actual orgasm, the two spasms counted as a cum. And since I want to be cruel to myself, in the lack of anyone else being cruel to me, I have now decided to reset my counter. Yes, 102 days of chastity gone in the air, just like that. Sucks to be me, doesn't it?

In my recent blog post I mentioned I started my chastity because I felt my orgasms not only were too pleasurable but also had started to lose their meaning. In that light I should be more than happy now, since my latest spill was anything but pleasurable, and far, far from ordinary.