25.10.2017

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.

12.6.2017

"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.

8.6.2017

It has now been exactly one hundred days since I last let myself cum. Therefore I thought this would be a good opportunity for a little contemplation. What does it mean for me to be denied, and how I see myself as a sexual being?

Quite frankly, when I managed to end my cumming spree in the end of February this year, I could have never, in my wildest dreams believe I could reach hundred days again. I just wanted to be able to make myself stop cumming, at least for a while.

During the prior three months I had let myself cum over thirty times, and it had started to lose meaning for me. I just wanted to be denied. I wanted my ejaculation to be special again, something they had been when I hadn't cummed for months or years. Something unattainable, unreachable, almost mythical.

I didn't want cumming to be merely a thing I know I would do after a masturbation session. In fact, I hated how boring and predictable my cumming had become. I wanted to change that, even if it meant denying myself orgasms again. I needed to be denied. And I knew the only person who would want to deny me, really want to deny me, was me.

And here we are, one hundred days later. During that time I have tried to edge daily. Not only do I love it, I do it also to keep my libido alive. It seems this has been a very successful strategy, since I'm nowadays constantly horny. Sexual things occupy my thoughts most part of the day, and the best thing I know is to be able to sit in front of my computer pulling my limp penis, knowing no matter how horny I get, will not let myself cum.

Like most of the readers of my blog know, my record of being denied is 497 days, so hundred days is nothing new to me. In fact, I have noticed that the longer I am without an orgasm, the harder it gets to end the chastity. The prospect of having to cum becomes something scary, making it easier just to continue.

I remember one time when I was closing a similar milestone and was talking about it with a real life female friend of mine on a chat, whether I should cum or not. "I think you will continue", she said. "I know you. You like playing it safe, and to continue not to cum is the safest thing to do." How well she knew me.

When I slipped in the beginning of last December, ending a 374 day cumless period, it was a genuine accident. But it led me to stop the "chastity foolishness", as I called it then. After all, I had been on and off in cum bans since 2013. That's enough chastity for anyone, right?

However, I soon realized the months and years of being denied had changed me. I noticed I had difficulties starting to cum regularly again. Not physically, but mentally. I had become so addicted to the sweet torment of being denied, that cumming regularly felt unnatural. It felt something I shouldn't be doing. It felt too good, something I had no rights to. And, I felt I still needed a woman's permission to cum.

As all the faithful readers of my blog know, I have even come up a word to describe what I am now: a chastisexual. Someone who gets erotic enjoyment out of being forbidden to cum. As far as I can see, chastisexuality seems to be very common among submissive men, but there didn't seem to be a word for it.

Some time ago I participated in a conversation on a fetish site about long term psychological effects to a submissive male, and overall redundancy of male orgasm. The point of the conversation being, if a submissive male gets emotional and physical torment it needs from not being allowed to cum, making him fall deeper and deeper into submission, is there really a need to let him cum at all?

My view to the matter is of course the submissive's one. The way I see it, the  longer one is being denied, the more into submission we fall, and the more not cumming becomes an integral part of our sexuality. It changes how we see ourselves as sexual beings, as we realize how much we actually need to be denied. How good and natural it feels we don't have a right to our own bodies.

The need to cum is always there, of course, but it's the desperation of not being allowed to cum is what gives it a meaning. The need to cum is the fuel, but the act of being denied it the actual engine that runs our libido. The more horny we become, the more frustrated we become. and the more frustrated we become, the more horny we become. 

And the longer this continues, the more it changes the way we think and see ourselves sexually. As we understand that cumming or orgasming isn't actually necessary for us to be content sexual beings. That being allowed to ejaculate isn't even good for us.

From a personal point of view a thinking like that creates a problem of sorts, of course. More specifically, romantic wise. What if I still wanted a relationship? What if I wanted to find happiness with a woman, to love and to be loved in return?  What are the odds I find someone who would understand me, and my way of expressing my sexuality?

Not only the woman in question would have to accept we wouldn't be able to have penetrative sex due to the fact my penis doesn't get erect in sexual situations, she would also have to be open-minded enough to take control of my orgasms, which I would gladly give over to her, of course.

I admit this is something I do find problematic. There is a need in me to find someone I could make happy, do nice things to, someone I could please and pleasure sexually. But at the same time I have found it very difficult to even thinking about approaching a woman in romantic manner anymore.

In other words, I can't help but to wonder whether my chastisexuality will doom me into being single and alone for the rest of my life. I am very comfortable around women, and they are comfortable around me. I am not bad looking, and I know how to make them laugh.

At the same time I realize it requires that extra effort, for two people to become something more than just very good friends, something which in our society is still a man's responsibility. And when one considers all I have said here, I doubt very much whether I will be able making that extra effort.

On the other hand, as long as I have no one in my life there isn't outer pressure to act certain way, or expectations to live up to. There is no one telling me how I should be expressing my sexuality.  There is no one I have to justify myself to. 

In other words there is no one saying what I do is isn't normal. No one saying there is something wrong masturbating as much as I do. No one saying man is meant to cum, or that feeling you're not entitled to have orgasms is twisted.

There's just me, and my limp penis I can pull as much as I want. And my testicles I can keep denied as long as I want.    

31.5.2017

There is a Facebook page I follow that has a habit of posting questions on its wall. I try to answer them whenever I feel I have something to contribute to the matter. A few days ago there was a question: "Does it turn you on if you're being watched while masturbating?" 

Since that is a question I think I could write a book on, I gave a detailed and truthful answer. I knew, as I sat down to write, the answer would be a long one, but it surprised even me how lengthy it ultimately became. I'm posting my answer here, as well. I hope you like it.

Does the idea of being watched while I masturbate turn me on? The answer is yes, immensely so. I have spent hours and hours of looking for erotica with a scenario like that, or CFNM porn, with male protagonist having to masturbate for female audience. Unfortunately there isn't a lot of it around.

As far as reality goes, I have always masturbated a lot and I have been lucky enough to perform it in front of a woman a few times in my life. Unfortunately however, it seems many women find that very distasteful and have said that to me. I suspect that has something to do with gender roles. However, lately I have started to regret I don't have anyone in my life to masturbate in front of, or have had so little chances to do it observed during my life.

Masturbating while being watched is a big turn-on for me. I think it's because masturbating is the most pathetic, sad and disgusting thing a male can do sexually, and having to do it with other person watching is humiliating beyond belief, which is a huge fetish for me.

What adds to the situation in my case is also the fact I have a very small penis, which thanks to medical reasons doesn't get hard even when I masturbate. In other words, if I pulled it while being observed, it would look very funny indeed, and it would be very humiliating for me.

I have had for many years a fantasy of living with a woman, who I would have a special arrangement with. I could masturbate as much I wanted, but only while being observed by her. I would have to ask permission for it, and had to do it so that she would be in the same room and could see me at all times if she wanted.

Naturally I would have to ask permission for an orgasm as I got closer, and she would have all the right in the world to deny it for me. She wouldn't have to give me any reason for denying me, if she didn't feel like it, but it would be a good motivation for me to be the best possible boyfriend I can. "I just don't feel like it" would be a perfectly reasonable answer.

In a ultimate fantasy setting I would have to do it with several women present, and with their permission. I would be naked, of course, while all of them were clothed. There could be men present as well, and I suppose it would be interesting for them to observe me. At least it would be humiliating for me having to wank my limp dick in front of real men.

The women or men wouldn't have to find what I do erotic or arousing. In fact it would be hard for me to imagine anything I could do to be erotic or arousing to anyone. The most I can hope for is it to be at least amusing for the audience.

The people present could watch me, ask me questions and generally be total control of me, but I wouldn't mind if they ignored me completely, had conversations between each other or go on about their normal business as I go about my disgusting one.

I think there's an element of humiliation there, as well, in my masturbation meaning so little to anyone but me. Naturally I would have to have a permission from someone present before I was allowed to ejaculate, of course. It wouldn't be at all certain I would get one, however.

The same applies to the girlfriend arrangement I described earlier, as well. She would by no means to be obliged to actually watch me if she didn't feel like it. She could give me a permission to masturbate, but she could tell me to stand or kneel somewhere she wouldn't have to see me.

If she wasn't into watching her boyfriend beat his tiny thing, she could continue whatever she was doing as I approached her with my request: read, watch tv, work on her computer and so on. Only as I approached an ejaculation I would have a permission to speak and ask permission for it.

Afterwards I'd have to thank her for the permission, as well as for the chance to masturbate, of course.

But, as most of you know, all that is pure fantasy for me, and I have no one in my life to for all the things I just described. Therefore, I think, the fact that I sometimes like to masturbate in front of a full length mirror is my way of trying to substitute for it.

After all, since I don't have no one to humiliate myself in front of, the only thing there is for me to do is to humiliate myself. Watching myself as I masturbate my limp dick, and trying to imagine what someone would think looking at it.

People have often asked me why don't I look for on-line partners then? Truth to tell, I'm too cautious to do that. What would I do if, after five minutes of ecstasy, the girl's pimp appeared on screen and demanded money for not putting on-line the video they just filmed? When it comes to sex industry, webcam business is a way too hazardous place for gullible wankers like me.

And quite frankly, I'm too much of a romantic for not wanting the person in question to be someone I have a connection with. That me being naked and humiliating myself in front of her would mean something. But's it's a small niche, fetish wise, to to watch and be amused by a man pulling his small limp penis. As well as very challenging one to have, if the idea is to approach a woman romantically.

In other words, yes. I do find the idea very arousing, but at the same time it is something I have very little chances of getting to experience. 

16.5.2017

Morning horniness is a curious thing. No amount of erotic stimulation can compete with the erotic arousal you have when you wake up, hard or semi hard. When you're in that sweet semi-conscious state unsure what's true and what's not.

As you all know, I try very hard not to lose my libido even though I'm in cum ban. Therefore I try to masturbate as much as I can during the daytime. I take great pride doing it, since it is, after all what I do best, and the times I pull my limp dick are the ones I truly feel being alive.

I have lately noticed that weather seems to have an effect on my masturbation. At the moment we're having a chilly spring, and it has even snowed several times during this April. Some weeks ago there were warm spring days, and my edging immediately doubled. As soon as the cloudy and chilly weather returned, it diminished drastically.

But like I said, I have done it as much as humanly possible, and it seems I have indeed been succesful keeping my libido alive. Several nights in a row I have had erotic dreams, and I have woken up extremely horny.

I would gladly tell you about my dreams, if I had any idea what takes place in them. My dreams are generally very hazy jumble of things, and unfortunately that applies to the erotic ones as well. As I wake up all I can remember is flash images, without any kind of idea who I had been, and what I had been doing with whom in the dream.

In any case, couple of mornings now I have been turned on enough to hump my cover in my semi-conscious state. I know that doesn't sound much, but they have been the most erotic experiences I've had in ages. Usually at that point I don't have an erection anymore, only this... puffed feeling on my penis. I sleep nude to encourage my morning erection and erotic dreams, so usually there's nothing between my penis and the quilt I am grabbing on.

What took place this morning a mere moments ago, must be the most arousing series of events so far. During the past couple of mornings I haven't dared to hump the quilt very long, since I seem to have this alarm in my head, that makes me stop what I am doing before it starts to feel too good, often way in advance. Preventing myself from cumming, no matter the circumstances, seems to have become a second nature for me.

This morning, however, I took a more decisive approach, and continued humping longer than previously. With due fairness, I have to say my movements, or "thrusts", weren't that big, and I think someone looking at me wouldn't necessarily have even noticed them. To me, however, it felt almost as if I had been fucking something.

First I made a series of fives, then ten, and finally twenty-five. At that point I had to stop because I felt I was getting too close to orgasm. I just stayed there, horny as hell, listened the sound of my heart that was beating like hell, and enjoyed the aching, desperate throbbing in my testicles. They wanted so bad to get all that sperm out. I didn't remember when they had been that alive.

As soon as I dared, I continued and did another twenty-five, then fifty. At that point, having done a full hundred, I had stop for a while. I was so turned on, my aching balls were begging for a release and it all seemed... so wonderfully humiliating.

I considered my options. I started to become more and more awake, and I was able to think more coherently now. I even considered the possibility of letting myself to cum, or at least trying to. To feel the approaching orgasm, and letting it engulf and wash over me. I would actually feel sperm ooze out of my flaccid penis. Most likely there wouldn't be more than a few drops, and by anyone else's standards it would be called a ruined orgasm, but it would feel so, so good for. me.

After all, I had already been...what, over seventy days since my last orgasm. Wouldn't there be time for another one, at some point? And I would be doing it by humping a quilt, with my flaccid penis, for crying out loud. What a humiliating story that would make to tell on my blog. Since I knew I would have to describe this experience there, with every little humiliating detail.

But on the other hand, I knew how much better story it would make, if I could describe all this, and not having to end it by telling how I let myself to cum. To be able to tell you I didn't cum, even though I wanted it desperately. Also, I knew, if I let myself cum it would mean I would have to start counting from zero again, without even having to reach triple digits. Did I really want that? Was I ready for it?

At some point, as I was thinking all of this I had continued humping the quilt in series of twenty-fives and fifties. I even considered how humiliating story it would make if I actually decided I would let myself cum, but ultimately were unable to do so, after all? Somewhere around 300 I lost count, but continued humping the quilt. All in all I think I got somewhere between 500 and 600, before the waking world finally dragged me from my sweet slumber.

As soon as I had gotten up I turned my computer on, sat down still naked and started writing. I wanted to get it all down, when I was still fresh in my memory. Naturally I have been pulling my limp penis the whole time, and I feel drops of sweat rolling down on my naked body. All I can think of what somebody would think if he or she saw me now.

However, even though this is highly enjoyable, and I seem unable to stop, it's not even close to what I experienced earlier...

8.5.2017

This blog update contains very little description of sexual activities or anything very graphic. It does, however, contain a lot of material about how I see male chastity and how it relates to my situation. It is, in fact the longest piece I've written about the practice, ideology and philosophy behind denying yourself orgasms.

This is also the first update on my blog for quite a while. There hasn't been any posts here since January, and some of you may have been wondering why the sudden silence.

I think I never made a conscious decision to put the blog on hold. Due to several reasons there was a pause, and the longer it became, the more difficult it was to start blogging again. You know how it goes. After all, I knew I would have to somehow recap or explain why my once very active blog fell silent all of a sudden.

I guess I could have continued reporting on this blog my sexual life, or rather lack of it, on daily basis. How often I masturbated, what did I put in my rectum and how it felt, or whether I had managed not to cum. But it seemed to me I didn't have anything new to tell you.

I have also been a bit depressed the past few months. Very often in these kind of situations one doesn't notice it at first. This happened to me, as well, and it took a while for me to realize how stuck my life has been for several months now.

The main reason for me feeling blue, I think, has been my loneliness. That too, took a while for me to understand, to admit how lonely I truly am. Being now single there is no one I can share my sexuality with, and if that sexuality has to do with chastity, it can be very lonely indeed.

I have tried to relieve my loneliness, and looked for like minded company on-line. During the past half a year or so I have had several virtual acquaintances I have been able to share my erotic side, but for some reason or the other, none of those relationships have lasted very long.

My boy pussy project, at least when it comes to active anal training and stretching my asshole, has been on hold for a while now. There is one practical reason why that is, namely the lack of new toys. I realized already way back in Christmas I'm in dire need of bigger butt plugs. However, my financial situation hasn't allowed any purchases.

I am happy to say, however, that there's hasn't been setbacks in the project either. I have regularly tested my boy pussy, and made sure I can still fit even my biggest toy there. However, even though there hasn't been setbacks, there hasn't been progress either. And therefore, nothing to report.

What about the chastity part then, you may ask? Let's get some statistics.

As you may or may not remember, I started cumming again in the beginning of last December, after 370 days of denial. It happened again more or less by accident. This time however, I decided to stop chastity altogether. What the heck, I thought. What do I lose if I start cumming again? Three years is enough time to be in cum denial, right?

One could say at that point I took myself a project of teaching my body to cum again, and more importantly, trying to make my brain understand it is quite okay to cum. To ejaculate like a normal man. Well, almost like a normal man.

I ejaculated all in all 11 times during the last month of 2016, a year that had been completely cumless for me at that point. I had planned to make it completely cumless, period, just like 2014 had been. That, however, didn't happen.

I continued my selfish orgasming in 2017, and ejaculated 20 times in January and February. The longest time between ejaculations was 10 days, but there was times I ejaculated on three consecutive days, sometimes even twice a day.

That's 31 times just in three months. So, one could say my cumming was rather "reckless" at that point, at least in the light of my recent past. In comparison, there had been only 8 orgasms in the previous three years. Or, more accurately, in 37 months between November the first 2013 and December the first 2016.

None of these 8 orgasms hadn't even happened by my own choice. Either they were ruined orgasms, very unpleasant edging accidents or done under the supervision and permission by my girlfriend. Sometimes all three at the same time. In other words, in December 2016 I had my first voluntary, totally unsupervised, full orgasm in three years.

So yes, there was a lot of adjusting to do. In my defense I can say that thanks to my virtual acquaintances only a handful of those 31 ejaculations took place without a permission to do it. That's right. No matter how hard I tried, I felt I still needed a permission to cum.

The longer it went on, the more I realized it was hard for me to shake the feeling that as I ejaculated I was doing something I shouldn't do. That cumming on my own and unsupervised was just wrong, immoral and unnatural. I wanted so bad for someone to be in charge of my orgasms.

Still, all through the January and February I lived a life that could almost be called that of a "normal cummer". The orgasms I had felt great, of course. But the fact remained that I still felt, deed inside me, that what I was doing wasn't right. That all that pleasure felt wrong. That whether I cum or not, when, how, where and how often, was something that shouldn't be left for me to decide. Because I wasn't trustworthy enough for that kind of responsibility.

And not only that. I felt my orgasms were losing meaning. I still kept record of them, just as I had done when they were few and far between. This meant writing down up the exact time of each and every ejaculation by the minute, what had I been doing before it, sometimes even the amount of time I had managed to get on the counter.

However, the more frequent my orgasms became, the less meaning they seemed to have. And the less interest I had writing down the details of my ejaculation. Every time someone said there should be less orgasms for me I could hear and feel the siren song of chastity calling out to me. How right it would be to limit my orgasms drastically.

Things led to another, and I am happy to announce I'm back in chastity again. At the moment it's been 69 days since my last ejaculation, and counting. And quite frankly, I couldn't be happier. I understand now how right this is, and how wrong it was for me to start ejaculating again. The one I had on 28th of February, 10:45 AM (EEST) is at the moment the last ejaculation I've had.

I know this is nothing compared to 374 or 497 days, but after a my cum spree I'm extremely glad I have managed to keep my testicles denied this long, once again. In fact, after I had been without an orgasms for a couple of weeks and I realized I wouldn't be cumming for quite a while, I felt this... well, feeling of tranquillity setting in. Like I said, it's just feels right for me not to cum.

Sounds weird? Well, I guess it does. However, I've had to think a lot about my own sexuality in the past couple of months. After all, I had managed to get rid of a sexual practice many people would consider abnormal, twisted and unhealthy. 69 days? That's crazy. Why do I want to start denying myself again like this? Where's the fun in not having any pleasure? Don't I miss orgasming?

My own guess is it may very well be that all the time I have been in chastity in the course of last three years have made me chastisexual for good. Yes, that is a word I have made up, chastisexual: someone who gets sexual enjoyment from being forbidden to cum.

I still do edge regularly, partly to keep my libido alive and testosterone levels high, but also to torment myself. Even though I don't get to experience orgasms, I want to be near one, so close the fight not to cum is a real one. I don't want to forget how easy it would be.

What is interesting is also the fact how much more I like masturbating than actual cumming.
I've always loved masturbating, and I was a regular cummer for the most of my life. A day without an orgasm was a day missed, I used to think.

However, only after I discovered long term denial I realized how good it actually feels to be able to pull your penis without having to "worry" about cumming. It feels completely different when you know you have no intention of letting yourself cum.

It is somewhat ironical, but I'm pretty sure I have masturbated more after I found chastity play, not less.

Because when you're not denying yourself, you masturbate to cum. When you are, you masturbate to masturbate. If you're not denying yourself, ultimately you reach a point when the lure of an orgasm becomes greater than the pleasure you get from masturbating. If you're in chastity, all you have is the act of pulling your penis. There is no set ending point. Therefore, when it comes to how long an edging session can take, only sky is the limit.

For me the thing I seek when I masturbate is the desperation. It's like a flame I want kindle. The longer I am without an orgasm the bigger danger there is for that flame to die out. On the other hand not letting oneself cum is the reason the flame of desperation exists in the first place. Edging is what keeps it alive, and the more I edge, the stronger the flame becomes.

In a way, knowing it is me who keeps my testicles denied of something most people take for granted, feeling the ache within them, and understanding I do it merely for the pleasure of seeing the day count going higher, is exactly the thing that helps me not to cum.

Because I know, that if I did let myself cum, it would feel great for 10 to 15 seconds, after which I would feel empty and hollow and meaningless again. All those weeks and months would have been for nothing, and for what? Those few short moments of ecstasy?

Empty, hollow and meaningless are also the words I have used when I've had to explain the way I live my so-called sexual life for someone not into it. More precisely, I have used it to describe the orgasms I had in those three months. I could still cum whenever I want, several times a day if I liked. But like I say, they wouldn't mean anything.

Every time I start to edge, however, it does. Every pull on my little penis has a meaning. It means I will soon be in great discomfort, and desperate to cum. But I know I won't, and that gives it meaning. One could argument the same could also be said about normal cumming. However, to me it there's much more meaning in torment than there is in pleasure, somehow.

It may seem odd to a person who isn't into this lifestyle, but cumming and being in control of your own orgasms is so... well, troublesome and stressful, as well. There's all these things you have to consider. Especially if you've once experienced the denied life, you cannot help but feel all the responsibility on your shoulders as you masturbate.

Should I cum or not? How many has there been this week already? Is it too much? How should I do it? Should there be toys involved or not? Where should I do it? What should I be thinking or watching when I let myself go over the edge? Should I ruin it or not? At some point you just don't care anymore, and cumming becomes a routine. Sad, predictable routine. And that happened to me earlier this year.

When you're a chastisexual, there's none of that. You can masturbate freely without having to worry about cumming, because you won't. You just won't cum, period. No matter how long you pull your penis, you won't cum. Knowing that gives you such a piece of mind.

Also, by denying yourself orgasms you avoid the post-orgasm blues, as well. There's no feeling of regret, or that you've lost something. You merely continue your life, carrying your horniness and desperation to cum with you, like a dear friend who is always beside you, or on your mind.

The way I feel it, a deliberate orgasm is simply not an option for me anymore. At least if I'm not given permission to, or ordered to cum. I tried the life of a normal cummer, but I understand now that isn't for me anymore. There are people who would most likely disagree with me, but denying myself a normal ejaculation cycle for several years now, has given me so much more than taken away from me.

Still, I have doubts, sometimes. Like I said, I have done a lot of soul searching when it comes to my sexuality in the past few months.

As you all know, I’m impotent. It's something that's a part of me, and a fact I have accepted long ago. The only time my penis gets hard is at mornings, almost as if to remind me it could do it, if it wanted to. So, not only is my penis really small, it really is completely useless when it comes to the fairer sex.

Now, if I was a real man with a normal sexual history I suppose this would have been a nightmare for me. I would have sought medical aid for it long ago, and continued my sex life by having sex with women. But as we all know, I am not.

Instead of feeling ashamed, however, I don’t only refrain from sexual encounters, I actually feel good for being impotent. Not only have I accepted it, I actually take perverse pleasure for my penis and my sex life being this sad and pathetic. Or, more precisely, because I'm this sad and pathetic, I don't deserve a sex life, or even orgasms, that are, after all, for real men, not wimps like me.

Now, I do know there are other ways to please a woman, ways I am pretty good at, in fact. However, my recent relationship history makes it very hard, if not impossible for me to seek out another one. I have been very fortunate in the past, when it comes to my partners being so understanding about my limp dick. But I understand that cannot continue indefinitely. So I jerk off and edge, alone.

What this had led me to think is this. Could this recluse masturbator life of mine be seen, not only sad, but also… well, selfish somehow? I have a tongue and fingers I could please a woman with, but I choose not to, just because I’m such a gutless wimp.

Does that fact, that even though I edge myself sore but don't cum, make the whole situation more “acceptable”, or does it merely make it worse? Is it a good thing I keep myself experiencing something as normal and wonderful as orgasms, does it serve me right not to cum, or is what I do simply idiotic and selfish?

Someone also recently pointed out that these kind of thoughts may very well stem from my need to serve. After all, that is what every submissive wants to do. So, in that respect what I do could be seen as selfish. I don't pleasure anyone with my edging.

One could say that is the one thing I do miss. To have someone I would be allowed to please and give pleasure to. To be allowed to share my denial with someone. To have someone teasing me and enjoying my discomfort.

I do believe, that if a woman into chastity play walked into my life now and gave me a chance of pleasuring her I would have no objection to giving away my right to cum as long as I live.