Man in the Mirror/Man on the Mirror

[Editor's Note: So it's hard to believe just how long it's been since I last updated this blog. So much has changed for me in all of that time, and those changes have made it difficult to keep up with the writing. They've also made it hard to feel sexy enough to write something of substance - or at least, of what I perceive to be substance. In the last few weeks, however, as I approach the one-year mark on when I launched this thing, I've had a hard time keeping my mind off of writing. Therefore, I am going to jump back into this thing - slowly, but surely. If you're still around after my long absence, more power to you. If you're new to this thing, please humor me and take a look around. Thanks!]

So, to start, I should say that I recently moved, and my new place is much smaller than my last. The economy, and life being what it is, made it impossible to live in my last apartment - a place that I called home on-and-off for almost 20 years.

This new place is full of all kinds of surprises - mostly the unfortunate kind. Smaller rooms, less storage, those kinds of things. But, last night, in only my second night in the place, I discovered the jewel of the castle - the part that really connected with a weird geeky sex blogger like me: the bathroom mirror.

This mirror, unlike any mirror in any apartment I've ever inhabited, runs the entire length of the wall, and hangs low enough to be considered almost-full-length.

Last night, after too many glasses of water, I ran to the bathroom, quickly unzipped my jeans, and suddenly caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror that I had really never seen before. There, in all its hardened glory, was my cock, only in mirrored reflection, looking strong and virile. It's not like I'd never seen my cock in the mirror (or, for that matter, in photos, or on video) before, but never had I seen it in action. Granted, I dont find urine to be a huge turn on or anything, and I apologize to anyone who isnt hip to it either, but there was something so manly and attractive about it, that I just stood there staring.

I emerged from the bathroom with a grin on my face, and the image of my cock dangling from my boxer briefs seared in my mind. For the next hour, I sat on the couch and conspicuously rubbed my cock over my pants. I contemplated the completely narcissistic way in which I found myself turned on - after all, the look of my own cock made me hard - but I couldnt avoid it.

Eventually, the erection and lightly discolored wet spot in my pants made it impossible to focus on anything else, so I ran to the bathroom and removed my pants, glaring at myself in the nude, cock hard, glistening and wet at the tip. My fingers wrapped around the shaft and rolled back and forth, up and down. The sensation of watching my fingers squeezing more blood into the already engorged head of my penis was incredible. With each thrust of my knuckles, the color in my cock went from dark pink to dark red, and I could feel myself getting weaker in the knees.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed just how much I could see of myself in the act. My chest heaved and a bead of sweat rolled down my forehead. I could feel the sweat rolling down my back. Every part of my body, still sore from the move, ached and burned, and I could feel each muscular fiber in my body start to tighten. My abs clenched. My feet ground into the floor. I could see my scrotum rock gently back and forth as my hand rubbed at my cock and forced more pressure and blood and precum into the tip. I glanced at the precum and realized how the perspective made everything different. My cock was red and wet, sticky and hard, and I was getting a new view at something I'd done thousands of times.

I pitched forward, very unstable on my feet. My hand fell to the mirror and my sweaty palm left a wet mark on the glass. My breathing quickened, my balance lessened, and I reached a climax that I felt in my bones. Each muscle group quaked, and my neck became so tense that it reverberated throughout my body.

I became aware of my climax by the warmth and wetness that was slowly rolling down my hand, coating each knuckle.

When I finally opened my eyes, my gaze naturally lowered to see my spent cock in the mirror, and was delightfully met with not only another unique view, but the shot of my thick cum, dribbling down the glass. Apparently, in all of my haste and new-found joy, I neglected to even think about the finish, and was literally now staring at it as it stained the mirror of my new place.

In that moment, I felt like a little kid, finding a spot behind the stairs or in the attic or basement - that special spot in a home that little people can find, and mark, and keep private for no one else. The bathroom is now my spot. That mirror is my special place.

Pink Cherry Toy Review: Janine Blow Up Doll

I begin with the following admission: before Janine, I had never used a blow-up doll before. I'd never even really seen one. I skipped that phase when I was younger - where you'd buy a blow-up doll to tease a friend at a party, denying that you had any interest in trying it out, but secretly sneaking a finger poke.

It always fascinated me, but I just never made it happen.

When PinkCherry approached me about doing some male toy reviews, I figured the time was finally right to indulge in this long-standing curiosity of mine, and I poured over their wares to see which model I'd like.

When I discovered that Doc Johnson (what a great name for a toy company) had molded a blow-up babe in the likeness of 90's porn icon, Janine, I figured it was a match made in heaven.

I had, after all, spent countless hours of my youth, masturbating to her likeness in scrambled videos and pilfered Penthouse images, and fantasizing about her on the cover (and in the video) from that seminal Blink-182 album "Enema of the State." [Let's face it...these admissions would be embarrassing, had it not been for being a post-pubescent male, who couldnt stop rubbing up against the furniture if no one was looking. Come to think of it, not much has changed.]

I always wondered just how much time and energy it'd take to inflate a partner, and oddly, it's not as hard as I'd imagined. In a funny way, it's not unlike the first few attempts at cunnilungus - first you have to figure out where to put your mouth, then you have to try to gauge just how productive your mouth work is, and all the while, you're dripping saliva everywhere, and not feeling all too comfortable with the outcome.

Once it was time to penetrate her oddly-shaped labia, however, any similarities to actual sex went out the window. In fact, sex with my Janine doll proved to be as plasticine as that Blink-182 album.

Janine has three holes for entry, all of which are where you'd imagine, but not as anatomically proximal as they usually are.

I wasted quite a bit of lube before I could slip my penis into any of her holes without fear of chafing, and by the time I was in her, I couldnt really get a good grip on the rest of her body without it slipping through my hands.

Ultimately, the experience was rather childlike and immature - filled with fumbling and uncertainty - but not totally unpleasant.

First of all, I could imagine how much fun a doll might be when employed with another lover - especially one that is timid. It seems like it could be a fun way to live out certain fantasies, and even the idea of the doll sitting in the corner "watching" is kind of fun.

Secondly, I enjoyed being able to imitate (even poorly) the act of just holding another person, while masturbating. A handful of breast, even when plastic, is better than nothing.

I think these two areas generally give the idea of a blow-up doll bonus points, but they barely balance the flaws out.

In the end, this is a toy - not even an expensive one at that - and as with any of these things, one has to remember that even more than a dildo, vibrator, sleeve or Fleshlight, a blow-up doll really belongs in a kid's store, albeit one that caters to adults as well.

The impression that I got from the whole experience was this: a few minutes of fuss can be worth it for a fun little experiment, but in a choice between a doll, and a bored lover, laying there lifeless with an expression of disinterest, I'd still rather have the real thing.

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Disclosure: Pink Cherry (pinkcherry.com) provided me with the fun product I've reviewed above. They are a great boutique sex toy provider, with an easily-navigated web store and a large selection, and they offer fast and easy shipping. I am always a big fan of the little guy, and these folks deliver. I highly recommend you check them out.

Going through the motions

I've been really busy with work lately, and it's made it hard to keep any kind of focused attention on updating my blog or reaching out to new people on Twitter, but at the same time, I think it's also allowed me to ignore the larger systemic problem which is that at the moment, a lot of sexual activity - especially by myself - feels mostly mechanical and not as pleasureable as I'd like.

Rather than devoting an entire post to the reasons why I havent been updating, however, I'd rather use this time to talk about the how's of why, since I think it's relevant to any ongoing conversation about sexual activity and sexuality, especially in my life.

I've been in the middle of my biggest sexual drought, and have recently discovered that any solution I attempt to address or avoid that issue has stopped working. Up until this point, I've been quite content with masturbation as a source for sexual release, but even that's not working for me anymore. It's not that I dont crave sex - it's pretty much the only thing on my mind other than toxic assets and Somali pirates from the moment I wake, to the moment I sleep - but my responsibilities and attentions are often required in so many places that it's hard to really seek out a proper sexual encounter where I can just switch my brain off and enjoy it.

That's really the crux of my problem. My brain is always being pushed and pulled in so many directions that sex has become the be-all-and-end-all of high-pressure situations. Is she having a good time? Am I being too selfish here? What does any of this mean? These are heavy, unavoidable questions in my head that occur before any actual sex has a chance to get off the ground, and I am so stifled by this pressure that I cant even allow myself to commit to just trying to have sex. Intellectual impotence, to counteract my desire for intellectual fornication. Or just fornication.

The fact is, I'm not really looking for "just sex" either. I think that casual sex, for me, would be fun, but ultimately as empty and emotionally unsatisfying as I've always felt it to be, and right now, I need something that's more intimate and connected. I want to connect to another person, and have the sex be a natural part of that. It doesnt have to be a girlfriend or a commitment per se, but something that's more than just a casual fling. Even if it was just someone with whom I have a natural connection, where we can occasionally commit ourselves to sex, but without a lot of the other bullshit...someone as busy and focused as I am, who needs the sexual outlet but without either "extremes" of casual relationship...would work perfectly for me.

Actually, I've thought recently about how even a masturbation partner might ease my worried mind back into sex, but as I wrote above, masturbation has been largely mechanical as well.

For the past few days, I've been a walking hard-on. Moreso than usual. Evert time my hand grazes the engorged and stiff head of my cock, my brain explodes in a kaleidoscopic array of sexual imagery and erotic memory, but when I actually allow myself the time to just relax and bring myself to orgasm, the effort seems stale, unsexual, and mostly boring on the climax.

I cant possibly describe the disappointment that comes with a ho-hum self-induced orgasm on my end, where I sit there, not even close to being out of breath, cleaning myself of an immeasurable amount of cum, without even a hint of excitement.

I'm actually behind on writing several sex-toy reviews, mostly because I cant even find myself sexually charged mid-toy wank and I'd like to do the review justice.

Mostly, I think it comes down to sexual boredom. I dont feel excited by a lot these days. I'm looking for something exciting - something that will get my gears turning, even if I'm too caught in my own head to assume those gears have anywhere left to go. I need the sexual gear lubricant so that I can lube up my gear and go. Bad metaphor, I know.

So, I guess this is where I am right now. Bored, but hopeful. Hopeful that something (or even better, someone) will come along and really get the juices flowing again, so that I can start enjoying sex, enjoying myself, and enjoying the process of sharing with you all again soon.

Until then, I will continue to post a few items throughout the week, like my recent sex blog review column and maybe one of those toy reviews very soon.

Born to Betray

[Editor's note: She's back! Here's a fun one from our guest writer, making her comeback after a couple of weeks away. I'll be posting one of my own later today. Thanks for checking her out!]

Before we begin, lady readers please: click here

Now, do bypass the bla bla bla, the how to mend the relationship once the “cheat” has occurred, the plethora of reasons behind the infidelity, and the Sherlock Holmes-proof method to covering the gummy tracks of two-timing. Once you reach the words “born to betray” – Bingo – finally, an explanation for my past indiscretions, and a biological one to boot. No more apologies and scrambled excuses.

“Baby, I’m just wired that way.”

Her mind is a dirty dirty little slut and she is commitment-proof. But at least the before mentioned women can still say she got it from her mama.

I have the letter H etched – or more appropriately, mowed – into the DNA riddled weeds growing below my beltline.

Perhaps I should rephrase that lest someone think I am a nouveau-hippie, or worse unhygienic.

In the rose fragranced stubble blossoming from the dirty-skin colored (consequence of my mixed heritage) patch of skin positioned by evolution in between two flesh lovers, a.k.a. thighs.

I am unsure whose idea it was; his or mine. What I can say is that the decision to trim was made when sober. It is presently long past its freshly-whacked days and far from an adequate representation of the alphabet. I am both lazy and ticklish. Somehow sitting for the painstaking 30-minutes it takes to complete the deed, or suffer through it by the hands of another, seems less sexy when you have a 6:00 alarm and really just want to swoon over Brian Williams’ hair-do and scarf whatever 100 calorie snack is within reach.

We are an unorthodox couple. We live in the ex-apartment of a drug dealer, one Alfonso the herb slanger, and our neighbor speaks in tongue when questioned by officers of ICE. I try hard to use but two squares of bog roll (paper for la toilette) and he has spoken on more than one occasion of following in Alfonso’s footsteps, only with a license and a horticulturist’s mindset, more grower than slanger.

The pubic gardening job fit right in with our ghetto fabulous lifestyle. The dual income home of a corporate whore and her not-so-starving rapper boyfriend is far from posh, especially when the road to corporate whoredom is paved with college debt.

So we make cheap fun. Like stealing our trilingual neighbor’s (God’s language counting for the first lingual) internet to stream R-rated movies, pitying the young mothers with snot faced kids running unrestrained on the 1st floor (they keep them in close quarters), sniffing at doors to detect if it is the stench of a Meth lab or a dead body, and when the razor supply is replinished, landscaping.

Five fun recession-proof things to do aside, I have a roof and I’m back – if only to tell you the Brazilian is out – and that is really all that matters.

Bloggin' Aint Easy...

Obviously, I like to watch. We all know that, by now. What many of you dont know is that I also like to read. In fact, along the right hand side of my page, you'll see a series of links to some of my favorite uninhibited blogs and websites, and each deserves its own individual shoutout. I've decided to highlight a few blogs once a week to draw attention to some other writers works, because I really dont dig the superficial blogroll add - I'd much rather pimp the whole thing out. Each week, I'll pick two or three, and give you some insight into why you should be reading them at that very moment...probably even why you should scurry from mine and check theirs out tout de suite!

This week, I'll pick the three most current additions, and perhaps start next week from the beginning. That way, eventually I'll Benjamin Button it and end up somewhere in the middle.

First, let me say that I've had the pleasure to "meet" all three of these writers and their blogs are quick, fun, interesting reads that will instantly sex up your day.

1) Vagina Drum (Twitter: VaginaDrum)

This writer brings some excellent self-deprecation to her vagina, and by extension, her sex life. Or is that the other way around? She's funny, witty, original, and very dark, using the best pop-culture references to stitch a narrative together that's really unavoidable. Her blog is like junk food. Delicious, satisfying, but never filling...you could read the entire damn thing in one sitting, it's so addictive.

2) Sexy Star Seeing Starz (Twitter: SexyStarz)

This blog DEFINES a lack of inhibition. Its writer has clearly taken advantage of the anonymity that it affords her, and she's seized the opportunity to write about each dark corner of her current sex life without cheapening the experience for herself or her readers. She turns quick updates into short works of sex-drenched non-fiction, and, like me, she has a keen desire to add visual flair to each piece with some kind of included dirty photo. Even at their raunchiest, the entries are hotter.

3) MandyGFE - True encounters of a real New York City call girl. (Twitter: @mandygfe)

If you've ever wanted an honest, unfiltered look at the life and times of a call girl...especially one who's making a go of it in the biggest city, then make this your destination. She's only just begun, and the entries are few, but there's a story here that would a shame to miss. Not only do we get every sordid little detail from each encounter, but each comes with its own unique observation - never judgmental, usually fascinating, and always erotic.

So folks, that's it for this week. I'll be posting another blog this weekend from my frequent guest writer, and then following up early next week with some sex toy reviews, including yet another porn star I got to "fuck".

Hope all is well out there in reader-land. See you soon!