TMI Tuesday #9: Men's Secret Revealed!

Forty-eight hours late. But it's not about timeliness, is it? No. It's about my brutal honesty when TMI Tuesday puts my feet to the hot coals of truthiness. It's about my bearing my soul to you. And, if you're lucky, it's about some embarrassing tidbit regarding my sex life.

A bonus this time 'round: I introduce a new sex term. Help me spread it like an STD! I challenge fellow bloggers to incorporate the term into their own blogs.

Onward!


1. When you are out in public, do you often get hard/get wet?

Not as often as I used to, certainly. There are many curses to getting older; this one is probably more of a blessing. Junior high was rough for me in this regard (as it is for most boys at that time). It's the age where we all perfect the "pull and sweep" move. (No, that's not the term I alluded to above. Wait for it — it's coming.)

Oh, you don't know pull-and-sweep? Have a seat, ladies. It's time to get schooled. (Men are excused — they know this so well, though most of them have never told their lovers about this aspect of their youth.)

Picture, if you will, Our Hero, sitting at one of those desk-chair combos in French class attempting to conjugate être, when he suddenly realizes that, apropos of nothing, the right front pocket of his jeans is tenting. The dull ache in his crotch reveals the "tent maker." And oh boy, trouble is a-brewin': Monsieur Grastorf is about to dismiss class. Our Hero could choose to sit there and wait for his raison d'être to subside, but the problem is that Phys Ed — on the other side of the school grounds — begins in six minutes.

Oh, one more complication: Ingenue, who just happens to be Our Hero's current love interest (read: masturbatory fantasy), has approached the boy. Clutching her French primer to her budding chest, she asks Our Hero if he would walk to the gym with her.

If he were to stand up right now, Our Hero could very possibly be arrested for inflicting this Weapon of Mass Distraction on the poor, unsuspecting young lady.

What is a boy to do?

Step 1. Misdirection. Our Hero will begin an answer to Ingenue ... an answer that will be a "yes," but first things first. Before a word passes from his lips, he shifts his gaze momentarily over Ingenue's right shoulder, and allows a small smile to almost escape his lips. It's just enough to cause the girl to follow his gaze: She turns her head and looks to the front of the classroom, looking for what distracted Our Hero. (And his parents thought all those books on sleight-of-hand magic were a waste of time!)

Step 2. The Pull. Things must move quickly now — in microseconds, Ingenue is coming back around to complete her transaction. One hand is used, and it needs to be the hand from the side opposite the direction the offending appendage has encroached. The hand grabs the fold of his jeans' excess material — you know, that part that folds up against the stomach when he sits down — and pulls this away from his body. This creates a larger tent of space, leaving room for Step 3 to occur.

Step 3. The Sweep. The hand not currently holding The Pull in place comes down, and with one or two fingers, the pesky erection is pushed to a vertical (or, if you're a flight attendant, the "upright and standing") position. When the "clock hand" points to 12 o'clock, the "Pull" hand releases the material.

Step 4. Business As Usual. "Why, yes, Ingenue, I'd be delighted to accompany you and your gorgeous, hot ass across the school."

Okay, so Step 4 is hopefully uttered with a bit more ... aplomb.

In any case, Our Hero is now free to continue merrily on his way, safe in the knowledge that the deftly executed maneuver has hidden his stiff boy-meat behind the extra material of his jeans zipper. Since that part of any pair of jeans is already thicker than the rest of the pants, no unsightly bulge is evident. The aroused member can even shrink back to its usual pathetic shape (in plenty of time for Our Hero to be thoroughly self-conscious in the gym locker room in 5-1/2 short minutes) without anyone being the wiser.

By the way, the advanced-skills version of this is mastered with one hand: The forefinger and thumb perform The Pull, the remaining three fingers (or some combination thereof) effect The Sweep. If a woman were to witness the adeptness of a skilled Pull-and-Sweeper, it would take her breath away.

Ladies, before I let the men come back in and read the rest of this post, that you will never tell them that I revealed this information. I would sacrifice full faith and credit of all men everywhere. Do we have a deal? Good.

"Come on back, guys! Nothing to see here!"


2. When you masturbate, how long, typically, is your session and what do you think about (other than having an orgasm)?

I have had nights, when I'm particularly tired but still wanting to pull one off, where I will literally fall asleep and wake up again with my limp dick in my hands ... only to coax it back to life and finish the job. I've had times where I've fallen asleep more than once. These are certainly extended sessions, though hardly stimulating.

And there are times where I'm all about the tease ... just bringing myself along slowly with slow strokes, coming close and backing off ... starting again. I usually need some good masturbatory material for these. I usually prefer reading over pictures/movies for this kind of jack. The fun thing about these jackoffs is that there is much more semen involved in the money shot.

And then, there are the "maintenance" tugs: I need to get rid of this itch so I can get back to work. This style is all business. Movies work best in this case. I can get myself off in less than five minutes in these situations from a dead stand-still, if I need to.

If I don't have other materials available to me, I usually conjure up a re-creation of past sexual experiences. The vast majority of these involve my wife.

The fallback scenario — the one that is guaranteed to bring my seed boiling to the surface (and beyond) — is the re-imagining of the first morning I ever work up with Amy. The morning after the first night I met her. The morning I woke up sandwiched between her ... and her best friend. Who also happened to be my ex-girlfriend.

But that's a story you'll have to wait for. It's too important to not be told properly.


3. What is your most pleasurable intercourse position?

Usually sitting across the table from the someone, each of us with a cup of coffee. I can talk for hours in that position! Hmm? Oh. Not that kind of intercourse.

Of course, you're not going to get me to commit to just one. Why else do you think I'm known as The Equivocating Husband?

Missionary has its advantages — the big two being a) my cock hits her in just the right places (if my angle is a little bit higher than usual), the base almost rubbing against her clit; and b) it puts our mouths right next to our ears, where we can weave all sorts of prurient threats into each other's ears. Downside: I'm prohibited from staying close to her face and really letting loose a serious fuck session.

"Furniture" Missionary — Poising her on the edge of a bed, couch, or table, but still essentially on her back — allows for a more frenzied screw, though it does pull me away from her face. It allows me to watch her body, specifically, her tits jiggling to the beat of our dance.

Doggy is really nice for the more raunchy fuck: I grab on to those life-bearing hips and try to make 'em hear our animal applause¹ in the next county. In this position, my cock feels bigger to Amy, so my ego gets stroked. She usually gets a lot more vocal. And it's this position that has brought her closest to orgasm during intercourse. Drawback: A little more impersonal. This position should not ever be used in conjunction with the term "making love."

T-Square is one we don't do often, but it's really nice when we do. She gets to control the speed with her heels, if she wants. I get to look at her body in profile and play with her tits. It's another slow-moving position, typically. I wrote about this recently. It was almost too effective.

There is one position that Amy and I did more than a decade ago, and we haven't tried it since. I would love to try it again. I'm not sure how to describe it, but I'll try: Amy was lying on her back, with her legs up and separated. I laid down on my stomach in the opposite direction, and inserted my cock. It's sort of like a "reverse cowboy," if you can imagine that. Movement in and out of her was extremely limited and slow, but that's part of what made it so effective. The other effective element? Amy took the seven-inch vibrator we had out that night and stuck it in my ass. Whoa, Nelly!


4. How often do you use the word "fuck" (or its derivatives) in casual conversation - frequently, occasionally, rarely, never.

Having kids, I've gotten pretty good at squelching the "wirty dords" when they're present. In a mixed group of adults, I'm also pretty solid, unless there is a moment (like, during a joke, or quoting someone else) when it feels "appropriate." Alone with Amy, I let it fly whenever. She doesn't care.

But here's the thing: When I'm around only guys (and granted, that's not often), I'm much more likely to let the f-bomb go. Which, after the fact, always seems odd, because the guys I hang with, they don't really talk like that. It's like some machismo thing I do. What the f-- um, hell is up with that? What am I trying to prove?


5. Have you ever had a spontaneous orgasm? How when why where?

Never had one. I've been brought to the brink through sheer visual or verbal stimulation. But as Johnny Cochrane would always tell me when we lay in bed on our long weekends together, "to get it to spit, you must touch it!" Man, I really miss that guy. Good times.


Bonus (as in optional): Post a link to a picture you consider a strong sexual turn-on.

This works for me because she's not quite ready. I have to talk her into something. It's fun when there's some work to do.

--
¹ That's the sound of my hips clapping against her ass. I just made that up. Ya think the term will catch on? [Return]

You're So Dirty When You're Clean.

In the shower, your lover's skin feels entirely different.

Soap up your hands. Run them over her. Slick, light, wanton. A thin sheet of soapy water between palm and chest. Slip behind her. Feel her head loll against your shoulder, catching hot rain from above, wet hair spreading, sticking to your skin. Your arms under hers. Try to hold her breasts, slick, escaping, all the more stirring. Run your slippery hands over them, make her moan softly in your ear. Wonder if this could, in any conceivable way, feel as good to her as it does to you.

On your knees. Newly soaped hands. Massage up one leg. Smooth ... She shaved this morning, she had her suspicions about tonight. Slowly up a thigh, hand-over-hand. Linger near the top, then switch legs, starting at the ankle again. This one will go much faster because, let's face it, your patience is wearing thin. Your cock so hard it barely bobs as you move. You want to grab that cunt. It's the point of water's egress, the rivulets running off and around her breasts, flashflood through the valley, cascading past her stomach, compelled to the same place you want.

The side of your hand slipping along her pussy lips. Her laugh, a mix of I-knew-it and do-that-more. She's wet, but you wonder if she's wet. Look up at her: Water bouncing off her head, with light, making a halo. Smile back at her. Turn her sideways, and now both hands work, one plays in the furrow, one slides in the crack of her ass. Wonder if spending this much time on her ass gives away your intentions. Wonder how much you care if you give yourself away.

Standing again, slick erection pressed against her back. Maybe more shampoo than you need in the palm of your hand, but this is not a moment for economy. Work fingers through her thick curls, deep into her head. From the forehead, work backwards, many fingers pressing many circles, moving to the side of the head. Again. This time, from the base of the neck, up through the thicket, too dense to reach the forehead. More. Above the ears, working hands to the queen's crown until fingers interlace. Once more. No one ever, ever follows the bottle's instructions, but tonight you will most definitely Rinse and Repeat. Hell, you may even do the conditioner twice.

Your slow pace is not sped up in any way when she reaches behind her and plays with your cock, her touch distracted, her intentions anything but.

"What about you?" she finally asks. "Don't you want to get clean?"

You are sure you look smug when you lace your fingers behind your head, spread your legs a bit, lean against the shower wall, and wait for her service ... but you go with it. After all, it's that sense of humor that caught her in the first place.

She rushes to get to your cock and balls, and then spends a lot of time there. Then one hand works underneath, between your legs, back, to your ass; she has to stoop down a little to reach, and she smiles wickedly as she does this. She wraps her arms around you, soaping your back, into scratching your back, into embracing, pushing her chest out and against you. Wet tits against soapy chest. Almost no friction at all, just silky wetness. Softer than the twined tongues.

It's a sensory banquet. Never enough. But you know it's already late. If anything else is going to happen, you'll need to get a move on.

***
We had used the guest bathroom for the shower because it's further from the kids' bedrooms. For the same reason, we moved to the guest bedroom, wearing only towels. Amy tossed off hers when she jumped in the bed. I stood on it, straddling her and instructing her to remove my towel. In no time, my knees were against her armpits and she was hungrily sucking my cock, her hands placing mine on the back of her head, an indication that she wanted me to fuck her mouth. I obliged. "Beautiful," I said. "You suck cock so well. So beautiful."

She pushed my cock between her breasts. Something she's been doing a lot recently. Not that I'm complaining. Tit fucking is one of my favorite pastimes — just like baseball and campfire songs! — and I'm fortunate to have a lover whose tits were made to be fucked. I like to linger on the upstroke, let her take the head back in her mouth, a little added lubrication, before I pull back through her cleavage again.

At some point I couldn't stand it: I had to kiss her deep, experience that hot, shower-softened mouth, lips further swollen from cocksucking, a vague taste of dick and precum. I stretched my legs out, lowered down on top of her, rubbing my cock against her cunt as we chewed each other's lips, lost in lust.

"Where do you want me to go?" I whispered. I wasn't even sure what I was asking, honestly, it just sounded good at the moment. She rolled over, offering me her ass. Really? Down I went, devouring each globe. Nipping, kissing, licking. Working toward the crack, and then away. A rush, a feint. A charge, a bluff.

We were on the verge of new territory here. I was so hungry to eat her ass, I can't even describe it. I wondered if I could control myself. But I knew there was still an uneasiness for her. I made one more move, my lips approaching her asshole. She was surprisingly relaxed. Still, I paused.

"Are you game?" I asked, my lips still partly pressed against her ass.

She laughed, and then let out an overly dramatic, nervous moan. "Mmmmmmmmmmm ... Probably not tonight, I don't think."

"No worries," I said. I masked my deep disappointment well.

"Sorry," she said between kisses, back up beside her again. "I probably gave you a mixed signal when I turned over like that. I'm not sure why I did it."

I whisper in her ear, "We won't do anything you're not ready for." And then I can't help to add: "But something tells me when you finally let me do it ... you're going to love it."

I reached behind me for the bottle of lube.

"Awwww, you came prepared!" she said.

"Slipped it in my pocket earlier tonight." I hoped I didn't sound too presumptuous. I dribbled the lube on her pussy, worked it into her lips with one hand. I encouraged her to show me how to masturbate her. "Is this too soft?"

"A little," she whispered. After a moment: "Now, too hard."

"In between that," I wondered aloud.

"Not hard, but with purpose," she said. An instruction that came off too enigmatic for me in the heat of the moment. Instead, I ask for one of her palms, fill it with lube, and put the slickened hand on my cock.

"I've been thinking a lot about you jacking me off," I said. It was true. Handjobs haven't really interested me in the past. For some reason, I haven't been able to get the image out of my head. I think it's the exhibitionistic/voyeuristic aspect of it: Handjobs, unlike most blowjobs, are delivered with eyes open, and I love when she watches me come. We continued to masturbate each other.

I hooked my arm underneath her knees, and lifted her legs. Pushed my cock into her. From that position, I could watch her almost as a third person. I encouraged her to play with herself while we fuck. She obliged, a breast in one hand, the other frigging herself. The pace was slow. Sometimes, she'd use her heels against my ass to push my cock deeper.

And the sight, the sound, the feel ... it was just too much tonight: I came very quickly, a low-key climax, where she's not even one-hundred-percent sure it really happened. She asked. "Yep, I sure did," I sighed, making no effort this time to hide disappointment.

"Well, you're going to have to go down on me and give me mine," she said. It took me by surprise — both for her bluntness, and because ... well, of course I was going to go down on her. Did she really think I'd miss a chance to eat her out?

After, as she came down off her climax, Amy asked, "So, you really don't mind going down on me with all that lube and cum?"

"You're kidding, right?" I punctuated that with another deep thrust of my tongue.

"Of course," she said. "What was I thinking. You're the guy who eats everything."

TMI Tuesday #4: Suspicious Minds

Come join the fun sometime. It's better than a sausage wrapped in a pancake and stuck on a stick. Unless you've got something to hide. Which I don't. Really.

1. Have you ever had sex in a friend's house/apartment/car/whatever... but not with that friend? Does your friend know?

I've never done this. Why? Should I? Is it totally worth it? Do I add it to my "wild card coupons" fantasies? Christ almighty, this is gonna keep me awake at night, trying to figure out how this scenario would be arousing.

I can tell you that I've DEFINITELY had sex with someone else other than my friend ... in my friend's mind. I don't know if it was hot. I'll have to ask him.


2. Have you ever sat at your computer naked?

Well ... um ... yeah. Why do you ask? Is that unusual? Titillating? Am I a freak? Is it surprising? Or are you looking for a cool story about that? Well, let me try one and we'll see:

Hey, this reminds me of this one time I was sitting at my computer ... naked! While I sat there, I answered some email. I got one with the subject line "Hey, neighbor!" and I opened it, and it was a link to a porn site that involved sex with people who dress up like Barney Fife. (Which was kind of arousing, though I always thought of Don Knotts as a bit of a limp fish.) And then I paid a couple of bills online, and went to bed. When I got up, I got that kind of "ripping" sound when my skin peeled away from the leather upholstery on the chair.

So. How's that working for you? Yeah, me neither.



3. If you are sure you WOULD get caught, is there anyone (known personally, celebrity, fictional character) you'd cheat with?

Wait, why would I want to get caught? Would my wife think that was hot? Or are you suggesting she'd be laughing because that celebrity was wayyyyy out of my league? Are you saying you don't think I'm good enough for Connie Britton?

Yes, you heard me right. I want to screw her so hard she's seeing Friday night lights. Why Connie? 'Cause my wife would walk in on us ... and say it was justified. And she'd be right. Free pass right there, buddy.


4. Have you ever photocopied a body part?

Hands. Face. Uvula. That's it. I'd heard too many horror stories about copier glass breaking to get more lewd than that.


5. Just how rigid are your standards: Is there anyone out there (say, a celebrity), that you'd do, just to say you scored? (We aren't talking a dreamy celebrity i.e. Brad Pitt or Jennifer Aniston; we are talking Mick Jagger, Dick Cheney, or the Queen of England.)

Again with the celebrity thing. Does this really turn you on? Are you sitting around imagining me doing Crispin Glover? Nancy Pelosi? Mandy Moore? Matt LeBlanc? Monica Lewinsky? You're just trying to catch me in the act, aren't you? You want to watch! You. Sick. Perv.

But to answer your question: If my "standard" is "rigid," it sounds like I already want to do the celebrity. Still, a boy has his limits: I draw the line at Rummy.


6. Have you ever contacted a “lost love” years later?

I've stayed in touch with most of my lost loves. I'm on good terms with all of them.

Why? Did one of them say something to you? Which one? I bet it was that bitch Carole. Oh sure, I was friendly when I found her myspace page, but I didn't believe for a punch-drunk second that she was glad to hear from me. Some people just can't let go, can they? One little time that I misunderstand her and she never forgives me. I can still hear her screeching. "I said in my rear, you idiot!" Fine, fine, whatever. I even paid for the audiologist's bills. What more do you want, Carole?!


7. What was the worst thing your SO ever caught you doing?

Amy has caught me jacking off so many times we couldn't possibly count. You'd think I want to get caught, but actually, masturbation for me is a pretty private thing. Unless, of course, it's part of a session of sex play. But I'm talking about times where she's walked in on me. If I started solo, chances are I meant to finish that way.

What was the worst thing your parents ever caught you doing?

Same answer. Dad caught me jacking off once. He acted like he hadn't seen anything. Backed out of the room. It was like it had never happened. Like I'd told him to look directly at the red light.

Did you ever do either of those things again?

I have never, ever, ever masturbated again.

Unless you count every day of my life since the age of 12. But let's not get caught up in technicalities.


8. What is the shortest period of time you've ever gone between sex with two different sexual partners in separate sessions (that means threesomes don't count unless they are separate threesomes)?

I've never juggled like that, never had more than one thing going at a time. The closest I can come is the time I was in a spontaneous 69 with an ex-girlfriend on the floor of my apartment, and the phone rang. I let it go to the machine (I'm not an idiot!), and it was this woman from work with whom I'd made a date that night. I had completely forgotten about it. But phone woman and I didn't have sex for another couple of weeks.


9. Besides the usual (lingerie, sexy shoes, etc.), what's the sexiest thing your SO can wear?

One of my work shirts. (Yes! Denis proves yet again he is a walking, talking, ejaculating cliché!)


10. Have you ever masturbated with a household object (other than a sex toy)? If so, what?

Why do you want to know? Did someone tell you something? It was our cleaning woman, wasn't it? She found the cardboard toilet paper tubes covered in petroleum jelly, right? Dammit, that's not fair. That was totally an experiment based on something I saw on the Internet. It didn't even arouse me that much.

In all seriousness ... There aren't a lot of really good objets de ménage for a boy to use. Or maybe I'm just not feeling creative enough when I need to get off to stop and wonder if I should try, say, sticking my dick in that vice grip downstairs. My guess is that women have more interesting answers to this one than I could possibly provide.