Coming to reality

So. I came. After 10 weeks chaste I came.

This was just a week ago, during a long-postponed session with L, a very CBT-focused Dom. It was my third meet with him: even though CBT’s not really my thing, I was for some reason back for more. My limits certainly got pushed a bit further, but, sooner than I expected, we had moved into vanilla mode. I patiently sucked L to orgasm and politely swallowed the goods.

And then it was my turn. We lay on our backs on the bed, he with his arms around me working my nips while I jacked myself off. “It’s 10 weeks since I last came”, I told him; “what shall I do? Shall I cum, or go on for longer?”

“It’s up to you.”

As a chastity-focused sub, I normally hate it when a Dom wants me to make this choice. The whole point is to leave that in someone else’s hands, so to speak. But actually, I was ready; after 10 weeks that for other reasons had been tense and difficult, I was ready for release.

And so, I came. Enjoyably, quite fulsomely, but not exactly seismically. There’s a myth that the scale of a guy’s orgasm and ejaculation is directly proportional to the time elapsed since he last came; but it it doesn’t work that way – we’re human beings, not steam engines! This cum was satisfying enough, though; and afterwards I enjoyed what was perhaps the best part of the afternoon: sitting astride L on the bed I slowly massaged his back while we chatted away. Connection’s what sex is about. Of course. Always.

Driving home, I put the car radio on, wanting, with obvious trepidation, to catch up on what was going on in the war in the Ukraine. I learnt of the beginning of the siege of Mariupol, its people deprived of heat, water, sanitation, and under constant bombardment by the Russians. Just sickening. Since then, I’ve been unable to get back into any erotic head space. For how are fetish and fantasy imaginable in the face of such unspeakable reality, such actual cruelty and suffering?

My despondency will no doubt pass soon enough – inevitably far sooner than will the obscene reality out there. I sense my libido still murmuring away in the background. But, one week on, I still don’t really feel the sap rising. I’m in London at the moment, where there are certainly opportunities for horny encounters. But I’m not sure whether I’ll be putting my gear on and heading down to Backstreet like I normally would. My heart’s not in it. I feel more like weeping.