Don’t get me wrong. I’m thankful that I can get erections on demand. Sure, they’re expensive, but like a Kardashian divorce, they’re worth it. We have to get used to the process needed to produce one. It’s hardly romantic. When Mrs. Lion wants me hard, I have to fetch a syringe, alcohol wipes, and boner juice. Then I have to prepare the injection and give it to myself. Then we wait ten minutes or so for the drug to work. One reason my most recent experience didn’t end in orgasm was probably my preoccupation with this clinical process.
There’s something sad about needing to do all this just to get hard. It doesn’t feel very manly. Maybe I can rationalize this as a form of chemical male chastity. After all, without an injection, I’m unable to do anything sexual. Nope, it doesn’t feel the same as being locked into a male chastity device. It just feels like I am broken. That’s tough for me to accept. There’s nothing cool or sexy about it. If I want to get hard, I have to shell out twelve bucks for the drug and then give my penis an injection. I wonder if it’s worth it.
This isn’t just my problem. Mrs. Lion has to adapt to this new, synthetic sex. It isn’t all bad news. For one thing, my erection lasts about two hours. She loves CBT, and that long-lasting woody gives her a lot of time to torture me. No matter what she does, I won’t be able to get soft. The drug takes that out of my control. If she is interested, it does offer some unique opportunities for BDSM play.
All that aside, I have to come to terms with what it means to be impotent. Sex has always been a big deal to me. Losing the ability to get hard is a big blow to my male sexuality. I can’t help but wonder if it isn’t nature’s way of telling me to give it all up. I don’t want to, but I’m not willing to destroy myself either. I hate being in this position.
Oh well, at least I can get hard. I’m happy about that and happy that Mrs. Lion continues to enjoy me even if my boners are chemically induced.