It's Hard Work Cumming in Lexi's Face
I'm gonna take a shot at answering this great comment left the other day by AnnaPajamas, on my post about how bloody long can it possibly take a man to cum in poor Lexi Belle's face after making sex to her for a really long and I should think pretty enjoyable time:
Uhmm... dumb question. Can you just decide to do it? Like you tell your junk, "okay junk, time to cum." or does it happen on its own. You kinda know when it's going to happen right? ... maybe if you have sex with hot Lexi Belle for a job it kind of loses its appeal. They are probably trained to go and go anyways, they aren't thinking about finishing ... And I have never had sex anywhere near as long as those movies. ... that's my seven cents.
But really – where to start? First of all, yes, I just say to my junk the equivalent of "okay junk, time to cum". In my case I use the phrase "Go get 'em, boys!" in a sort of Edward G. Robinson voice, but it's basically the same effect. Then it's pretty much three-two-one and the 21-gun salute.
Those big, hulking, carrot-coloured nair-bears* you see pumping away behind her, those guys are like gladiators. I'm sure they're trained up and probably doped up to go on and on and on until they're told to pop. And it probably does lose its appeal pretty quickly. If they're not thinking about finishing they're probably thinking about when they're going to do their laundry or did I leave the iron on or whatever. And I'm sure that's why they sometimes have to stand there jerking off at the end for about the same amount of time the rest of us would need starting from scratch.
Seriously, a LOT of very right-on column inches have gone into giving the female orgasm a fair shake over the last 50 years, and hats off to the sisterhood for that. But wow, your question. How little's ever said about what happens inside a man in those moments before he goes over the top and into the valley of the shadow of the little death and letting loose his barbaric yawp gives up the last full measure of his devotion, or however else you want to atrociously mis-euphemize it. So. I will try and shed some light.
This is how they used to do it.
SPOILER ALERT: This is turning into a really long and kind of unsexy light-shedding and could potentially spoil some of the fun of seeing a man cum with his sex face on, especially if that man is me, so stop reading if you think that could ever be a problem.
Now, I'm not a Superman or anything but I have a high sex drive and I reckon pretty good staying power. I can't speak for anyone else, most especially those nair-bears who have to cum on cue in front of a film crew. But for me, yes, seriously, most of the control is in my mind, though for the most part it's not very conscious. With a regular lover I usually go for however long the circumstances allow and however long we like, be it 15 mins. on the way out the door or a nice long hour or two in the afternoon or whatever. I can go off much quicker if I'm on my own in a public place or in some other sort of rush.
When I was a k** I'd have said yes, it just happens and you do whatever you can to control it. But ever since I had my first any time of day let's fuck lover it's been more a matter of going along in a fairly constant state of arousal for an indefinite stretch of time, not really getting much closer, until at a certain point the pace and intensity picks up and I start to escalate toward cumming. All going well this is also when someone else's train is just about coming round the bend. Then it's a bit like ratcheting up to the top of a rollercoaster, where you're not sure how much further but you definitely start to know when you're hitting the top. That's when the feeling starts to spread, like a radiating tingle into the backs of my legs and up my spine and shoulders and neck. Then a moment of weightlessness when I've crested the hill and it's about to happen and there's no stopping it. And then rockets go off and church bells ring and champagne bottles open and confetti goes everywhere.
There's still a little bit of delicate psychology to it though, and I think this is so for most guys. It's in that last stretch where sometimes one cannot just decide to go or not go, either because it's coming no matter what or because it's not going to come without a little coaxing.
If, for instance, you are ************ and finally getting the green light for the first time ever and it's with the sexiest girl at your high school and she's 19 and totally amazing with long curly hair and crazy cat eyes and you're in love with her and she's showing you the ropes and you've been picturing it with your hand every night and quite a lot during the day for most of a year already and her pussy is tight as fuck and burning hot and gushing wet, white and creamy and you're only her second fuck and she just wants to feel you inside and you've already been rubbing up against each other for an eternity, well then it's quite possible that you may not be in complete control of the timing.
This is when guys think about baseball or the Queen or whatever. But I have to be honest none of those things ever worked for me, because I just find whatever I think of at that moment to be arousing no matter how bland or unpalatable it is meant to be. The pitcher threading the needle with his rocket-fast arm, and some sinewy ball player banging it out of the park with his big hard bat before they all get to run ticklish rings around the diamond with their cleats on. Come ooon. Or Mother Teresa, or the Queen, these are the classics but none of them ever really did the job for me because nothing is really safe from pervitude at that moment.
If, on the other hand, you're in your late 30s and you've had many fuck-happy years with short- and long-term partners, and you've also spent maybe 10% of your waking hours since you were 12 beating off, looking at porn and edging yourself along, hour upon hour, day upon day, year upon year, because nobody ever took the time to impress upon you the fact that you do not have to say yes to every possible opportunity for gratification and sometimes it's better to just wait until the erection goes away on its own, well then you may actually be in a fairly good position to control when the jets are going to crash into Lexi's face.
I'm sure it's bloody tiring being a porno stud and having to cum on demand after squatting in horribly awkward camera-friendly positions and pumping away into an unaroused co-star for 40 minutes. And I'm sure those guys have ways of making themselves cum when their calloused cocks are starting to smoke and they want to go home. Every now and again there are times when I'm maybe starting to go numb or running out of steam or maybe it's round 3 or whatever, and without really thinking about it I start to pull up flashcards of things that have gotten me off in the past. An amazon of a streetwalker I used to pass every night on my walk home. A beautiful black tranny cam girl I once fell for. A pushy, tatted-up rent-boy who tried to suck me off when I was dropping off a TV at his boyfriend's house. An amazing ex-girlfriend on her floor in Brooklyn the first time we, you know. She really knew how to, you know. Still if I was going to think of her, as I sometimes will, I'd try and remember to start thinking about her five minutes BEFORE pulling out of sexy Lexi Belle, if only out of a sense of professional pride.
As for your last point Anna I dunno, clear an afternoon and I'll book a flight.
* I just made up this term and I'm quite pleased with myself so don't worry people it's not what everyone but you is calling them nowadays.
Uhmm... dumb question. Can you just decide to do it? Like you tell your junk, "okay junk, time to cum." or does it happen on its own. You kinda know when it's going to happen right? ... maybe if you have sex with hot Lexi Belle for a job it kind of loses its appeal. They are probably trained to go and go anyways, they aren't thinking about finishing ... And I have never had sex anywhere near as long as those movies. ... that's my seven cents.
But really – where to start? First of all, yes, I just say to my junk the equivalent of "okay junk, time to cum". In my case I use the phrase "Go get 'em, boys!" in a sort of Edward G. Robinson voice, but it's basically the same effect. Then it's pretty much three-two-one and the 21-gun salute.
Those big, hulking, carrot-coloured nair-bears* you see pumping away behind her, those guys are like gladiators. I'm sure they're trained up and probably doped up to go on and on and on until they're told to pop. And it probably does lose its appeal pretty quickly. If they're not thinking about finishing they're probably thinking about when they're going to do their laundry or did I leave the iron on or whatever. And I'm sure that's why they sometimes have to stand there jerking off at the end for about the same amount of time the rest of us would need starting from scratch.
Seriously, a LOT of very right-on column inches have gone into giving the female orgasm a fair shake over the last 50 years, and hats off to the sisterhood for that. But wow, your question. How little's ever said about what happens inside a man in those moments before he goes over the top and into the valley of the shadow of the little death and letting loose his barbaric yawp gives up the last full measure of his devotion, or however else you want to atrociously mis-euphemize it. So. I will try and shed some light.
This is how they used to do it.
SPOILER ALERT: This is turning into a really long and kind of unsexy light-shedding and could potentially spoil some of the fun of seeing a man cum with his sex face on, especially if that man is me, so stop reading if you think that could ever be a problem.
Now, I'm not a Superman or anything but I have a high sex drive and I reckon pretty good staying power. I can't speak for anyone else, most especially those nair-bears who have to cum on cue in front of a film crew. But for me, yes, seriously, most of the control is in my mind, though for the most part it's not very conscious. With a regular lover I usually go for however long the circumstances allow and however long we like, be it 15 mins. on the way out the door or a nice long hour or two in the afternoon or whatever. I can go off much quicker if I'm on my own in a public place or in some other sort of rush.
When I was a k** I'd have said yes, it just happens and you do whatever you can to control it. But ever since I had my first any time of day let's fuck lover it's been more a matter of going along in a fairly constant state of arousal for an indefinite stretch of time, not really getting much closer, until at a certain point the pace and intensity picks up and I start to escalate toward cumming. All going well this is also when someone else's train is just about coming round the bend. Then it's a bit like ratcheting up to the top of a rollercoaster, where you're not sure how much further but you definitely start to know when you're hitting the top. That's when the feeling starts to spread, like a radiating tingle into the backs of my legs and up my spine and shoulders and neck. Then a moment of weightlessness when I've crested the hill and it's about to happen and there's no stopping it. And then rockets go off and church bells ring and champagne bottles open and confetti goes everywhere.
There's still a little bit of delicate psychology to it though, and I think this is so for most guys. It's in that last stretch where sometimes one cannot just decide to go or not go, either because it's coming no matter what or because it's not going to come without a little coaxing.
If, for instance, you are ************ and finally getting the green light for the first time ever and it's with the sexiest girl at your high school and she's 19 and totally amazing with long curly hair and crazy cat eyes and you're in love with her and she's showing you the ropes and you've been picturing it with your hand every night and quite a lot during the day for most of a year already and her pussy is tight as fuck and burning hot and gushing wet, white and creamy and you're only her second fuck and she just wants to feel you inside and you've already been rubbing up against each other for an eternity, well then it's quite possible that you may not be in complete control of the timing.
This is when guys think about baseball or the Queen or whatever. But I have to be honest none of those things ever worked for me, because I just find whatever I think of at that moment to be arousing no matter how bland or unpalatable it is meant to be. The pitcher threading the needle with his rocket-fast arm, and some sinewy ball player banging it out of the park with his big hard bat before they all get to run ticklish rings around the diamond with their cleats on. Come ooon. Or Mother Teresa, or the Queen, these are the classics but none of them ever really did the job for me because nothing is really safe from pervitude at that moment.
If, on the other hand, you're in your late 30s and you've had many fuck-happy years with short- and long-term partners, and you've also spent maybe 10% of your waking hours since you were 12 beating off, looking at porn and edging yourself along, hour upon hour, day upon day, year upon year, because nobody ever took the time to impress upon you the fact that you do not have to say yes to every possible opportunity for gratification and sometimes it's better to just wait until the erection goes away on its own, well then you may actually be in a fairly good position to control when the jets are going to crash into Lexi's face.
I'm sure it's bloody tiring being a porno stud and having to cum on demand after squatting in horribly awkward camera-friendly positions and pumping away into an unaroused co-star for 40 minutes. And I'm sure those guys have ways of making themselves cum when their calloused cocks are starting to smoke and they want to go home. Every now and again there are times when I'm maybe starting to go numb or running out of steam or maybe it's round 3 or whatever, and without really thinking about it I start to pull up flashcards of things that have gotten me off in the past. An amazon of a streetwalker I used to pass every night on my walk home. A beautiful black tranny cam girl I once fell for. A pushy, tatted-up rent-boy who tried to suck me off when I was dropping off a TV at his boyfriend's house. An amazing ex-girlfriend on her floor in Brooklyn the first time we, you know. She really knew how to, you know. Still if I was going to think of her, as I sometimes will, I'd try and remember to start thinking about her five minutes BEFORE pulling out of sexy Lexi Belle, if only out of a sense of professional pride.
As for your last point Anna I dunno, clear an afternoon and I'll book a flight.
* I just made up this term and I'm quite pleased with myself so don't worry people it's not what everyone but you is calling them nowadays.
12年前
