Sex, sex, sex... no sex

Sunday, a bit before noon. Back in training: how to deal with suicidal idiots. Okay, I'm over-the-top... Dee is here, bright and chipper, a smile to melt all. Drafting this as the instructor rolls on...

North Carolina Life last night over in Winston-Salem. Long drive over -- well, two hours or so, anyway. Long only in that after a full day of stuff, it's long. Interesting evening there... First off, I didn't wet my wick or my fingers. Yes, some 50 swingers, and I didn't get to even feel a wet pussy.

I'd been thinking, recently, that in order to be physically intimate with someone, I need some empathy or a connection. There needs to be something, some emotive string or connection with the person. Looking back over my life, most intimate relationships -- even short ones -- have had an emotional link, a connection. My participation in true one night stands has been remarkably, er, nil... well, nearly... ;-) Sure, I've had one or two one night stands that haven't had emotional content. And some relationships have perhaps started as a one nighter, but they gained connection and emotional content.

Earlier this week, it become clear to me Jane did not like that I establish emotional content -- or an emotional connection -- with fuck buddies. She didn't mind the fact I boffed Anne last month at NCL. She did mind that I had some feelings involved with the act and had (or wanted) a connection with Anne. I didn't want much; hell, I like Sam & wouldn't want to get in the way. But I want more than, "Hi, Anne. Meet my penis." In light of this, I'd decided I wouldn't sleep with Anne at NCL.

What happened was bigger than this little decision. Somehow, I blocked all emotion. I didn't get hard the entire night (aside from the obligatory let's-kick-off-the-night-in-our-room-time with Jane and the lets-end-with-a-bang-in-our-room with Jane; nothing else. Nil. Nadda. Flacid and shrunken the entire damn night).

Highlights of the night:

(1) In an open room on the floor with Jane and Sam and Anne and some nameless guy. I was nibbling on Jane's left breast while Sam was on her right breast and fingering her. Next to us on the bed, Anne and the other guy were playing. Anne at a moment of orgasm, "Oh, he's so good. We'll keep him." At one point, Same said to Anne and him, a loud and authoritarian voice stealing the stillness from the room, "Hands only." That didn't last. Then it was, "Oral only." Pretty soon they were on the floor, fucking like the horny deviants they were. It was clear to me that Sam was no longer in charge, if he'd ever been.

Nothing like a union man getting slapped down by his wife.

I so wanted to be with Anne. To slide into her sweetness. To lick her. To taste her. To cum and think of nothing else but her vixen smile. I didn't.

(2) In a darkened room on the floor... the grope room. I enter and see a woman on the bed, a man between her legs, head buried. I stood for a beat or two and then asked if I could join in. He said, "It's up to the lady." She said, "Sure." I got down on the bed and began to caress her shoulders. I moved her long, black hair aside and nuzzled against her neck, her ears, her shoulders... my hands slighting around her petite body, rubbing her tiny breasts. She trembled as the other man slurped and licked and sucked. I moved the spaghetti straps over her arms to gain access to her pert breasts. I nibbled and licked, tasting new skin.

(3) Dancing in the disco room -- 50s/60s pop -- with Joanne. Enthusiasm. Room cold; dancing creating heat. Joanne removed her top, and she and I and her husband and Maryanne all danced hard, an audience of a dozen watching voyeuristicly. Must have been her breasts. I removed my flannel pants, leaving me in a t-shirt and boxer shorts. Not as exciting.

... Like all NCL events, this one had a theme: Fantasy Life. My fantasy involved Krispy Kreme donuts and a woman eating a donut from my donut holder. No takers. I spent the night wearing a KKD t-shirt & boxer shorts; for much of the night, I carried a box of a dozen glazed donuts. No takers on the eating-the-donuts-from-the-special-holder, but I did become universally known as the "donut man." Not since a job in college walking the residence halls at Kenyon have I been The Donut Man.

The whole night, I wasn't aroused at all. I was jaded. I watched Maryanne and her well hung husband make love in the "camping room." She was atop him, and I was watching her fine and shapely ass ride up and down, his thick prick filling her pussy, juices dripping down his cock, wetness even in the soft light. I could imagine being him or joining them -- but I had not arousal. Nothing. No hardness. In the grope room, the woman reached for me. Nothing. Flacid. No matter what.

I turned in around 1am. Jane wanted to cuddle; I wanted to sleep since we had to be on the road around 6am so I could get back to suicide class. But, I did cuddle with her, albeit I wasn't fully enthusiastic about it. We scrumped, me ending atop her, just the head of my cock inside her. She wanted me fully; I wouldn't do it as I didn't want to hurt her; the doc hasn't cleared her. Even what I did was against the doc's counsel. I came in her, my hand on my cock to make sure I didn't plow into her; I could feel the cum pulsing through my cock as I came. Then I went to sleep.

This morning, I found out Jane went back out for a couple of hours. She ended up in the dungeon, chained to the cross, being whipped by Maryanne while Sam licked her & ate her out... and Anne gave Sam a blow job.

I would have liked to have been there.

Do you think I would have gotten hard?