I wrote a few days ago about the recognition that performance anxiety about sex had been with me most of my life. I tend to blame any current issues on blood pressure medication but, in reality it’s much older. However, I’m starting to feel more confident about sex and even enjoying actual… you know…’intercourse,’ as well as hot BDSM scenes!
Here is the physical embodiment of those old insecurities in the form of a little bag that lives in a hidden compartment in my suitcase. I’m embarrassed to share it here and don’t think I’d do so, were I not gradually weaning myself off these ‘performance aids’.
Included currently are:
- Little yellow pills. These are Cialis, known as weekend Viagra. Sometimes they work great, sometimes less so.
- A spikey cock strap, a gift from an early Mistress. It creates an almost irresistible (to a pervert like me) combination of restriction and spiky pain.
- Another constriction device I bought in Las Vegas, consisting of three silicone rings. The idea is to put it on once you’re erect and it keeps you that way. Once it’s on, it can work well but the fumbling involved is, in all honesty, not absolutely the hottest thing.
- My leather jock strap. I like this for heavy BDSM. I almost never have an erection when I’m being caned and this makes me less conscious of that. Plus it feels good to wear; I mean, reeeeeally good.
- A particular brand and type of condom I like. Well, OK, since you asked, they’re the correct size too.
- A blindfold. I like them. On me. On her. It’s all good. Plus I get to show off that I once got upgraded to First on British Airways and I actually am THAT shallow.
- A tube of arnica bruise relief cream because, well….y’know.
I feel ridiculous sharing all this, of being so “over-exposed,” to mangle the Sinful Sunday prompt. Part of me says, “if you’re too old to get it up, stop having sex!” But I don’t want that. Big stretches of my life have been sexless deserts and I’m not at all ready to step into the final one. Also, I’ve met people, sex workers, who are patient and caring and empathetic and make me feel good about myself whatever happens, or doesn’t, in a session.
And, largely thanks to those sex workers and to one in particular, I’m starting to enjoy actual… you know…’intercourse’ again.
In fact, sometimes, I even leave the little bag in my suitcase.
Who knows? Perhaps one day I’ll try dating again.
Perhaps one day I’ll even risk having sex with someone I’m not paying to enjoy it.
My earlier post, which included a picture of the ever-lovely Lilly is here
I had no image this week’s theme of “over-exposed” but Sunday’s best sinful images on the theme are are here: