Where’s the Sausage?

I grew up getting into the bad habit of sitting back and just kind of–waiting for everything.  The severe depression didn’t help matters.  But now, for the first time in my life, I am learning how it feels to get up and do things.  They say it’s critical to accept the self.  But how do you accept yourself when you started out so dysfunctional?

I am currently using subliminal hypnosis videos to make some changes.  Everything was going pretty well at my job, but then I realized that I wasn’t making the executive decisions I needed to make, such as what needed to be uploaded to our big database.  It’s not easy being in my forties and learning what many guys in their twenties, or even in their teens, usually learn.  It’s a big hit on my ego.  But, thankfully, at least I can do it.  Before, I would not have been able to handle it, and would have stopped working.

I have a problem.  I’m surrounded by women at this job.  In hindsight, for someone who prefers men, it sure seems odd that I would have picked this opportunity.  But it seemed like a good idea at the time–a paid way to learn database work.  I need to learn database skills and querying in order to run the corporation I plan to start in the near future.  But it’s rough.  My supervisor AND her boss are both pregnant.  I can hardly believe it.

This is it.  I mean, ENOUGH!  See, I have many issues with lunatic, out of control, women, because of my mom.  They say that you subconsciously keep putting yourself into situations to resolve deep-seated issues, and the “universe” complies.  Well, I think this predicament is an excellent example of this phenomenon, to say the least!  And the only other men there remind me of my worthless dad.

The bitch and the coward.  The bitch and the coward.  Just like mom and dad.

Looking back, I knew that my supervisor was nuts, but I wanted the job so bad.  Also, they were willing to let me work the small number of hours per week, that I required, as a contractor.  So, I mustn’t be too hard on myself; no one else in my town was willing to let me work so few hours in a white collar office setting.  So, I ignored the rampant red flags:  the constant profanity including the f-word, the insane demands such as interrupting to inform me that I’m not talking fast enough (WTF?!), the frantic inability to have a normal conversation without needless emotional drama, the bizarre demand of telling me to perform two job descriptions (everyone else just has one) and, of course, the constant mood swings and controlling behavior for absolutely no good reason.

Technically, there are two other men who work in the office, but they are hardly ever there.  And I don’t have meetings or projects with them.  So, more often than not, I’m the only cock in the room.  This is it.  This is my chance to triumph over my fears; my mom fucked me over good, so I still feel unsure about my manhood.  It sucks.  But maybe this time I can truly heal it.  It’s amazing–men hardly bother me at all.  If I worked in the sausage fest of my dreams, I would have no problem.  So why am I surrounded by pregnant twat again?  Apparently, I won’t be able to be with men until I solve this problem.

I don’t feel like a man all the way yet.  I never have.  I don’t feel like a woman–anymore, but I don’t feel satisfied as a man, that’s for sure.  So the solution is simple:

I won’t be able to start my corporation until I stop being afraid.  When that happens, it will be a natural progression in that I will stop working at this place at the right time, and for the right reasons, due to the demands of my own business.  And I won’t quit working there out of fear, or something I can’t handle.  It’s very hard for me to learn all these new skills, but the only way out is through.

Half the time, I have no idea what anybody in this office is talking about.  But that’s not too surprising.  Most of the time my supervisor “communicates” for no reason other than to cause confusion and discord.  She’s one of these people who says no to everything by default, and then proceeds to restate the exact same thing you just said so as to appear to be correcting you.  She also explained to me that her email inbox is “fucking crazy” so I’m not allowed to send her email, but then when I stop by her office to ask a simple question, more often than not, she’s too busy and important to speak to me.  Every other human being on the planet takes responsibility for their inbox, yet she’s the one exception I suppose.  So I doubt I’m the only one who feels this way.

It’s isolating.  Because of fear, I haven’t ever really lived in the world yet.  I still can’t exactly see my way out, but I know it’s coming.  In a world where hardly anyone takes a shred of responsibility for their own lives or behavior, I must be my own father, leader, and example of masterful manhood unto myself.  And become the only cock in the room, regardless of who else is present.

Healing is weird.  It’s obviously not taught in school.  Healing is a skill you have to learn as an adult, just like database skills, in my case.  Healing is both simple and hard at the same time.  I just remembered a very crazy lady at Starbucks I talk to.  And there is another lady whose gift shop I like to visit after work.  I feel strangely “attracted” to them both.  Why?  Pheromones?  Am I secretly straight?  At the gift shop, the lady has a truly worthless gay male employee.  I have visited countless times after initially being introduced to him, and I don’t think he has even once looked in my direction, much less made eye contact or said hello.  According to this proprietress, he likes one of their regular customers, but has never approached him.  The guy does, however, secretly photograph the customer’s dark hairy butt crack with his phone when he bends over to look at a bottom shelf.  I’m so repelled by this guy that I have ceased saying hello, or acknowledging him in any way.  Why bother, right?

I refused to talk to my mom for an entire year.  Yet she kept sending me her inane letters every week as if everything were completely normal.  It was the year I had my first semi-functional part-time job as a janitor after becoming disabled.  I started to feel like a man for the first time.  I quickly realized that my pain had nothing to do with whether or not she was in my life but, rather, it was a matter of the needy, lunatic mom within my own psyche.  Late at night, all alone in the library I cleaned, I was spraying the glass doors and wiping them down.  I hadn’t been in contact with anyone for several hours and worked in almost complete silence.  Yet I wasn’t alone.  She was there.  Contaminating my experience of myself.

The easy part of healing is just saying no, and giving yourself the gift of freedom.  It’s not about worrying about or fearing my mom, or the hormonal crazies at work.  It’s about finally choosing to turn away from them, once and for all, and then maybe some real men will show up–men like me.

I know full-well that these other random people in my life are not my parents.  So why does interacting with them inspire such primordial white-hot fear and rage?  I guess it’s because I don’t have very “good guys” in my life yet, and I feel so very, very alone.  {>^<V}

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Thanks Guys

This video is a great example of happy and healthy sexual expression in the right way, to the right people.  As you can see, the still shot shows male nudity, so anyone who does not wish to view the video doesn’t have to.  But if you’re curious, you have the opportunity to view something constructive and affirming about male sexuality.  The hosts simply impart information about what they like and what they do, rather than telling the viewer what they should do, or any other kind of preachiness.  This approach is critically important; there are so many YouTube hosts out there who assume they are supposed to TELL people what to do, even when they are clearly operating from a point of profound ignorance.  It’s annoying.  These men, on the other hand, don’t have to announce their expertise, as it becomes self-evident the longer you watch.

This video is more powerful than that for which many of the commenters give it credit.  Some appeared to be shocked.  One even discounted it as an “excuse” to show his penis.  That’s too bad.  I say it’s about time!  Incorporating the genitals back into the male body as a whole is crucial to the healing of men everywhere.  Another commenter asked what cock rings are for.  People are ignorant about sex, but they are also curious.  Who isn’t?  Sex is wonderful.  And there are a surprising number of cool things you can do with your junk.  Good job guys!  {>^<V}

Halloween Seventeen I

What a month.  October, that is.  All sorts of fascinating things have happened in my life, and I hope the same is true for you.  On Tuesday, the thirty-first, the supervisor where I volunteer took me out to lunch.  She wanted to do something to thank me for my efforts, and also to go over the schedule for an upcoming event.  Additionally, she surprised me with a part-time job offer!  It was very exciting.  I’m moving up and out into the world, as making connections and becoming part of a team is a bold new achievement for me.  After being disabled for so long, I am now experiencing some long overdue confidence building and life progress.

I dress up in business formal attire when I go in to the office.  After all, it’s at a pretty fancy place downtown.  It’s a big deal to me.  It’s an important part of my new morning routine.  I lay out my clothes every night so that they are ready when I get up at six on volunteer days.  My supervisor and her boss dress in business formal, so I decided why shouldn’t I?  But no one else there does.  So, as one can imagine, my appearance is a great way to stand out from the crowd without having to say a thing.  And, sure enough, people have started to notice and take me much more seriously, especially the men.  This is what I am discovering about working:  it has very little to do with work.  Sure, I get tasks done, but the actual working part is only about twenty percent of the deal for me right now.  The other eighty is getting up, grooming and taking care of this wacky body I have, dressing of course, gas for the car, getting myself there on time with a belly full of breakfast, and trying not to get some of the breakfast on my business formal clothes!  It just goes on and on.  It’s fascinating.  Including every related activity, I clearly spend far more time and calories on the stuff around the computer work I do for the organization.  The work is really just an afterthought.  But I understand that it could have something to do with the fact that I am still at the beginning of a business office career; perhaps it will feel different after I am endowed with greater levels of responsibility.

I have, however, decided that working has a LOT to do with sex; cologne mingling with crotch smell and ball sack pheromones, some tasteful jewelry mingling with body hair, a chunky new wristwatch, a gold-plated tie bar, the unavoidable bulge in the front of a man’s slacks, and his voluminous glutes in back….  It’s often wrapped up in a man’s self-concept and self-esteem.  I’m sure many men have already gone through this process years ago, but I’ve never lived like this before–I didn’t realize how much fun it was going to be!  It is an enhancement of the things on everyone’s mind, yet no one openly talks about:  what’s underneath the accoutrements of alpha manhood.  My wardrobe feels like a sex-drenched extension of my physical body and all the nifty decorations Mother Nature gave me to begin with.  A real gold chain around my neck brings the eye to my chest hair on days I don’t wear a tie.  Unpacking myself at the urinal reminds me of just how much bush is being covered up down there.  And, of course, there’s the bulge protruding from roughly the center of a man’s body.  However I sit, stand, walk, or talk, the outline of my good stuff is always there–and that’s how it should be.  The reminders of raw manhood, albeit obscured a bit for modesty and professionalism, subconsciously direct the right people to my root.

On a subtler note, there is the intrinsic sexiness of a “cocked” fedora framing my flourishing beard, which again refers to my thick, mature, bush underneath.  Currently though, I meticulously shave around my mouth in a veiled attempt to articulate that my other mouth down below is perfectly depilated, and open for business.  It ALSO refers to the fact that I won’t give razor burn to a guy’s face or asshole.  Clearly it’s an extremely sexual thing for me, but if it has no effect on someone, it’s okay because to them it’s just a facial hair style choice.

Sometimes I think working is really just an excuse to meet people.  When you get right down to it, most of working for a living seems kind of unnecessary; like it’s nice to do, but not critically necessary to the functioning of human civilization.  So, if that’s the case where you work, maybe it’s time to accept that God gave us school and work mostly for the purpose of getting together with guys for making love.  A man’s sexuality needs the proper and satisfying avenue of expression.  If you don’t have reasons to demonstrate your intelligence, physical strength and endurance, artistic genius, fashion sense, or problem-solving abilities, then how will all the other fuzzy little monkeys out there know you wanna get laid?  At work at least, show them with body language and other forms of nonverbal communication.

I have big plans.  And, as I have attempted to enucleate, they have almost nothing to do with my current job description, although completing clerical tasks at lightening speed with great accuracy is yet another way to show off my masculine prowess.  For example, getting noticed for working like a “mad skills machine” on Excel isn’t that far removed from fucking like one, right?  I am getting back into lifting now that my knee is better.  Therefore, next spring I can roll up the sleeves, of my short-sleeved dress shirts, to expose the fullness of my biceps.  I’ll still be in a tie of course, but in a physical state that necessitates the ends of my sleeves having to pick a notch either above or below the bulge.  I say the former rather than the latter is the way to go, don’t you?

Let’s see, what else could I get away with?  What ideas do you have?  What types of pleasing feats of manly expression in the office (or just strutting down the street  for that matter) do you practice?  Please share them with me and others.  Let’s get this party started!  {>^<V}

I wish to take a moment to thank my readers and followers for their patience during my two and a half month break from blogging.  There were several things I needed to square away including an exciting new volunteer opportunity, which will probably turn into an excellent part time job.

Now that I’m back in the swing of writing, we can begin to explore even more wonderful and interesting topics.  And I can get started on the products for sale section.

You guys are the best!  {>^<V}

Penis Number One

Penis Number One, 6x8, 72dpi with Watermark

This is a color study I did a few years back.  It is mixed media on archival paper:  colored pencil, soft pastel, and oil pastel.  I am very proud of the sophisticated nature of the color system and ball sack texturing.  Somehow I managed to make the cock stalk glow with a copper patina finish!  But that is also a testament to the high-quality pigments in my materials.  The scrotal surfacing was achieved by a delicate sideways smearing of a white oil pastel stick, followed by various treatments with soft pastel powder and finger smearing with a light touch.  Finger work is also evident on the top of the quadriceps on the left.  The original size of the piece is 9″ x 12″, and the title is Penis Number One.  {>^<V}

Going, GOING, Weird

Guys seem to feel pretty comfortable with me.  And I am finally starting to feel more comfortable with myself.  It’s a self-propelling snowball of healing.  I have started to meet some pretty cool guys, guys who know how to talk and act like real men.  We are learning things from each other.  And it’s fucking HOT!

Apparently, this new medicine I’m on is making me have these wild double ejacs, because it has happened in the same way twice now.  It happens when my dick is inside a guy’s butt or mouth, and not when I masturbate yet.  But anyway, it’s really something so I’m going to verify with my doctor that it does not represent some kind of dyskinesia or other permanent injury from the medication.  I believe it falls under the side effect listed as “abnormal ejaculation”.  But abnormal could mean awesome as I am quickly finding out.

When I feel close to cumming, I relax and a large amount of semen comes out of my dick under a moderate amount of pressure.  Since I’m new to jizzing inside of a guy’s body, I don’t squirt it out hard like when I’m jacking myself or getting a handy.  But it definitely comes out.  The new friend I was with last night, Cameron, told me he was surprised at how much jizz there was in his mouth.  I also started taking some male enhancement supplements that have augmented my loads as well I think.  So when the guy released my dick from his mouth and spit out all the jizz, the same feeling happened in my dick again!  My dick told me it wasn’t done yet and I jacked myself to another much bigger orgasm and squirting out a bit more semen under the usual high amount of pressure.

The first time this happened was in Arnold’s rectum.  I came, and then my dick wanted me to thrust some more for the second climax.  It was my first time topping, so I thought it was an anomaly due to fucking a butt for the first time or whatever.  But now it happened a second time in an identical way!  Wow, thank you Mother Nature and pharmaceutical industry I guess?  I’m not entirely sure it’s a bona fide “double” ejaculation either; I think it’s more than likely one emission and orgasm, just spread out in a different way.  I hope it’s safe for me as a side effect.  Like I said, I am going to check it out with my pharmacist and doctor.

Life is a work in progress.  So many things are going better in my life that it’s hard to believe that I did something to injure my knee, but I did a couple months ago.  But, thanks to this medication, I’m not worried about it as much.  I can still swim and go nuts on my upper body lifting workouts.  And I can turn this situation into a positive by using the recovery time to fix the asymmetry in my back and develop cardiopulmonary endurance in the pool.  Then I can focus on growing my ass and legs again.

Things are looking up.  I used my epilator to remove all the hair from my perineum, which makes getting fucked much easier and more fun because the ass hairs don’t get caught between the dick and my anus.  It’s a great way to start caring for your anus and rectum.  It makes cleansing easier and other maintenance care such as anorectal moisturization, massage, and stretching and strengthening exercises.  It feels good to get to know your whole body, and stop thinking of any particular parts as being dirty or bad.  The colon, rectum, and anus can actually be quite clean on a regular basis, especially with lots of loving, patient attention, both directly and regarding diet.  I started to play with my anus several years ago, so I am quite familiar with what is going on down there, and the transition from using my rectum as an elimination organ to a sex organ is quite smooth for me now.  But it took time, care, gentleness, love, and attention.

It is what we men are meant to do:  to experience great health and pleasure from our pelvic floor, especially the prostate.  The more love and attention the prostate receives from your bros’ dicks the healthier it will become, and worrying about prostate problems will become a thing of the past.  It is the natural way we are meant to live, I believe.  {>^<V}

God, He Id Naa’t-dy, Yo

Think about how nasty nature is.  Mother Nature makes no apologies about anything She has created, or gets us to do.  Nature just gets the job done, in a hot nasty way, even when circumstances are against it.  Arnold and I had an enjoyable evening last night.  We alternated between me sucking him and him fucking me with my dildo.  I got us to take our time and relax, and I think Arnold followed suit from my example.  His dick is nice, comfortable in my mouth.  And his shot was even nicer.  It feels so awesome to make your bro squirt.  It’s so dirty and hot.  Arnold and I are definitely friends with benefits in the truest sense of that term, as there is no romantic angle to it at all.  Just bros doing what bros do best:  gettin’ each other off in the funnest possible way!  We don’t hug or kiss or anything like that.  But it’s such a good, laid-back time.  We had something to eat and drink while I washed the dishes, watched a movie, and then he asked if he could play with my masturbation cream and pulled his pants down.  I always leave the fun stuff–lubes, condoms, latex gloves, massage oils–sitting out in my place for just this reason.  This is the time when I feel such happiness for the gift of gay sex.

But on some level, I still put myself under pressure, a habit I am constantly trying to get rid of.  It’s a dreadful habit from years ago, when I would feel extreme anxiety to perform with guys.  So when it came to my turn, I got that same old annoying nervous feeling as he went down on me, despite my best efforts to just RELAX.  Anyway, it took forever for me to cum.  There’s no way he could use his mouth for that long, so he switched to jacking me with his hand.  But this is my buddy; he didn’t care.  In fact, he mentioned the positive aspect of the sex lasting longer in my case.  Also, the longer it takes for me, the bigger the load as well.  It was about four or five shots total–big gloppy squirts, the largest one of which landed all over my face and couch cushions.  (God don’t care about the couch cushions.)  Success!  But why don’t I feel successful on the inside?  I have successfully learned to be pretty relaxed when it comes to pleasuring/sucking/hand jobbing my bros and bringing them to ejac.  But I still have yet to come to terms with the reverse role.

I feel hurt, angry, and frustrated!  My nerves and dick and psyche don’t respond the way I want them to.  And I don’t want to just give up and say I’m a total bottom, because I know that I’m not.  For a while, I feared that maybe I permanently damaged my dick nerves with the enlargement process.  But I have since decided that is impossible because my morning woodies are hard as rock.  So it must be psychological in nature, and also medical?

I am getting some much-needed benefit from a small dose of an antipsychotic, but it’s definitely messing with me in other unfortunate ways.  This antipsychotic seems to be working for me by dulling perceptions a little bit, so I don’t get set off by them in either a manic or depressed direction, which is good for everything EXCEPT cock functioning I’m figuring out.  I don’t really know for sure of course, but this is my hunch.

Also, I’ve been masturbating and NEMOing on my back for years.  So that is the hydraulics state my body is used to.  My dick doesn’t stay hard when I stand up, so I practice getting aroused and hard while standing and walking around the room so I can fix this trend.  The drug is doing so many wonderful things for me, I don’t want to go off of it.  But I wonder what I would be like sexually if I weren’t on any medication?

I feel hope for a healthier, younger, more virile, future (due in part to the new drug making me feel good things like hope, peace, and happiness).  I am also of the opinion that furthering my body fat loss will fix a LOT.  If I lose enough fat, there is the possibility of going off of some of my medicines, and changing my life in a much more significant way.  There are at least two I may be able to get off of.

I have hope.  I believe in my dreams.  I have changed and healed for the better.  Mother Nature finds a way.  She did last night when She got me to squirt a bunch of thick gloppy jizz two feet in the air, despite my sorrow and other probs.  It was really nasty and quite a show.  That’s why I want to get into porn.  If I can just manage to iron out these other issues, I’ve obviously got some raw talent here.

I ask God and Mother Nature to help me heal my mind, heart, body, and shlong in every possible way.  I love how hot and nasty you are, Nature, and I want to participate in your messy, semen-drenched gay fuckfest to the fullest, as is my birthright.  I’ve got news for the lazy fags of this world:  real life can be like the pornos, AS LONG AS:

  • I am as patient and kind, and warm and loving with myself as I am with my bros.
  • I never give up on my health goals, and remember that I have hope and genuine capability for remarkable changes still to come.
  • I allow fears to pass away as I simply let go, and experience my bros pleasuring me one moment at a time.

There, I feel better.  I’m on track for today.  Workouts, fat loss diet, going to play tennis in a few minutes with new guy I met from a personals ad.  He says he’s an intermediate player like me, but we’ll just have to see how compatible we are.  He also claims to have an eight inch cock.  But that’s not nearly as important as how big the organ between his ears is.  And in his chest.

I know I’m weird, but I have the ability to socialize now so I’m going to take advantage of it.  What is your gay male sex life like?  Training tips, sex skills and experiences?  I would love to hear from you.  You can now follow my Facebook page and get all my posts from this point forward on there.  But don’t forget to check out the July, 2017, archive, available on the WordPress site.  Thank you.  {>^<V}