I am a guy. Sex is supposed to be something I do when the opportunity arises. At least that’s how it’s been most of my life. Something’s been changing. I don’t understand it. It’s no longer just get hard and get off. I need more. Maybe seven years of orgasm control and male chastity are behind this. I don’t know.
Mrs. Lion and I don’t have a femdom lifestyle. Our female-led relationship is more about practical domestic discipline. She isn’t a full-time top. Yes, we do some BDSM play; probably less than most. We don’t have any rituals designed to demonstrate my submissive role. In fact, we are partners and treat each other with love and respect. You would never guess that Mrs. Lion spanks me when she feels I need correction. The problem can’t be our power exchange. Mrs. Lion has been careful to keep sex out of her role as my disciplinary wife.
The change I seem to have made is that simple sex doesn’t work for me. In the past, I have had partners who insisted that sex, including foreplay, didn’t work for them. Yes, they loved sex but needed more in order for it to work. Like a lot of guys I always found that concept is a bit mysterious. What does a candlelight dinner have to do with an hour of licking and fucking? Why is “mood” such a big deal?
I learned that the road to her vagina needed to include stops for hand-holding, sweet talk, kissing, and other romantic activities. The direct approach was rarely effective. I enjoyed that road. It was fun to do all those things. I could see how the slow buildup was a very nice form of foreplay. I did it and it worked.
After years of marriage, that mating dance tapered off and stopped. Kids, work, and life got in the way. Sex became a fun activity we did when we went to bed. Mating became an abbreviated-but-fun activity. It also became a routine. We both had orgasms, but they were often more sedative than fireworks.
Over time that bred dissatisfaction. She felt it more acutely than I. This sexual unhappiness is the basis for a lot of sitcom jokes. Foreplay is often, “Wanna do it?” Inevitably, the frequency of activity drops off. She does a lot of “Not tonight, dear.” He often just turns off the light and rolls over. You get the idea. I admit that in a former marriage I was that man. Sex was a tension-reliever for me. She did it for the same reason. It wasn’t all that much fun.
When Mrs. Lion was interested in sex, we did it almost daily. She would have been happier if I wasn’t quite so frisky, but she accommodated me. In one of her posts, she said that in a way orgasm control was payback for me wanting daily sex. She said it balanced things out making me wait for orgasms. I never thought of orgasm control this way, but she has a point. I’ve gone from daily ejaculations to one every week or two. I don’t get to decide when I get to ejaculate.
Long before we started orgasm control Mrs. Lion began losing interest in sex. I think I am to blame. She wasn’t looking for moonlight and candles, but she needed me to romantically initiate sex. I have always had a very hard time initiating with or without the romance. It’s a kind of sexual shyness. Even with Mrs. Lion, who I know loves me, I feared rejection. Before I could start foreplay I needed a clear signal that I wouldn’t be rebuffed.
Mrs. Lion needed me to initiate without having to send me any kind of signal. As a result, we had a standoff. We had sex less and less. Somewhere along the line, Mrs. Lion lost interest entirely. I rediscovered male chastity and suggested it to her as a way to solve my sexual needs. She insisted that she no longer had needs herself. That was seven years ago.
Male chastity works for us; at least it has until recently. The first sexual rule that Mrs. Lion made was that I could not masturbate. Wearing a chastity device assured I would obey that rule. After a few years, I stopped even thinking about jerking off. With or without a chastity device, I don’t masturbate. Any sex I get is provided by Mrs. Lion.
My original theory was that by being intentionally sex-starved by Mrs. Lion, what sex I get would be more exciting. Almost every day Mrs. Lion masturbates me or provides oral stimulation. She gets me right to the edge of orgasm and then stops. This assures my interest in getting off remains high. It worked well until recently.
My enthusiasm for nightly teasing has diminished. It’s also been much more difficult to bring me to the edge of orgasm. I don’t think my loss of enthusiasm has anything to do with that. My inability to get to the edge every time isn’t troubling to either of us. What bothers me is my loss of interest in even trying. This is why Mrs. Lion joked about me wearing the panties.
When Mrs. Lion wants to play, I am much less interested. It isn’t that I am bored with her. I just need more to get my motor running. I’m sounding more like that sitcom wife. Tying up my balls and playing with my penis doesn’t seem to do it. Well, they still do it if Mrs. Lion persists. My equipment isn’t broken, I just don’t feel the anticipation. Apparently, I need to anticipate fun as a way to get ready for action.
I think that I sometimes confuse my lioness. She can sit next to me on the bed and begin playing with my penis. It obediently stands at attention for her. The thing is that I’m not all that interested. It’s hard to put into words, but sometimes I don’t actually feel what she is doing. Obviously I am reacting physically, but the sense of arousal isn’t immediately there. To make things worse, this distresses me. I’m not supposed to feel this way.
If left to my own devices I can see sexual frequency dropping off sharply. If Mrs. Lion just waits until I want to play, we can easily go back to the way things were in the bad old days. This is the problem I’m hoping we can solve. There is a real role reversal here. Because she is in control, Mrs. Lion is the “man” sexually. I wear the figurative panties because I am sexually submissive. Over the last seven years, we both adjusted to this change and it’s worked for us. We may need to tweak things a bit now.
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