Nobody Talks About It

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All persons here depicted and/or their behavior,
are figments of imagination and any resemblance
to persons or history is strictly coincidental.


Nobody Talks About It (FM, spank, oral, anal)
© 2001 ReadyOne

In all my years of read I’ve not heard this one discussed, even with all the traffic in the new groups and story sites. I suppose that it’s just because it isn’t any fun for anyone involved.

The subject? Well…

There are times when men just can’t get it up. It will happen to 99% of the male population. It will last a couple of days or a couple of weeks. It will probably happen a couple of times before the point in life where you make a private appointment with the doctor for a perpetually renewable prescription for Viagra.

Fortunately, it is almost always something in your environment, i.e. you do it to yourself. You don’t figure out what’s causing it until it’s all over with, and by then you’re back in "A #1 Stud" form again.

I think mine had to do with my ex being a bitch about visitation, then moving the kids out of town because she was afraid I’d take the kids and move them out of town. I love them and want to be in their lives as much as my ex hates me, and it was hurting a lot under the surface to loose them even more.

Having an understanding partner helped a lot. Of course, after a while she got frustrated, both with me and with her lack of sexual fulfillment. I let her know that this could be a good time for her to go do something she’d always wanted to do. She just said that she’d only play with others when I’m there, and she wouldn’t play because I couldn’t play too. That’s just how she is, along with, it seems, 90% of the female world. Give them permission, push them out the door, but they just won’t go have any fun.

She tried a zillion things to help me get it up. Sexy notes in my lunch, putting the moves on me at home, flashing me when we were out, the sexiest undies she could find, and of course, no undies at all. She rented a couple of videos, which worked OK until I had to take my attention off of the movie and give it to her.

Now when I’m with someone, I try my best to make sure they have a good experience. That requires paying attention to that person, what they want, how aroused they are, communicating with them. It’s hard for me to use them as a fuck toy, which I suppose makes me like 90% of the female world. So while I did get it up, I didn't keep it up.

And now I’m worried that my confessions about not being able to get it up and about caring for the person I’m with is going to bring a delegation from the "Old Boy’s" club calling. They will put a punch in my membership card for each offense, and I’m afraid it will be confetti when they finish.

Near the end of my dry spell, she did find something that kind of worked. A bubble bath, believe it or not. Warm water, long and relaxing, no pressure, jovial conversation, and I found to my surprise I was fondling a hard on under the water (and no, the surprise wasn’t that I was fondling myself.) She played it easy, and I managed to keep it up (or at least fat and firm) while we dried off and moved into the bedroom.

She put on the full court press. I’ve always been fortunate and very grateful that she took the time to learn the details of sucking me off. We’re all a little different, and by showing her the spots and the order and the speed and the firmness, I taught her how to give me an orgasm that will turn my insides out. And that night she was making all the moves the very best that she could.

And it kind of worked. I stayed firm, but not absolutely rock hard, as she worked. And I did appreciate the fantastic feelings. But I could not cum no matter what she did.

So after a while, we ended up with me lying on my back, pressed in to a corner where the headboard met the nightstand, with her kneeling beside me, her hands and mouth and heart all hard at work.

The next trick she tried was a finger up my rear. With all her ministrations, it was easy to get her finger lubed up and sliding in and out. And yes, it felt good. But still, no cum.

After a bit, I felt myself being really stretched, which helped keep me turned on. (Afterward she told me that she had all 4 fingers in, and was wondering if she could get her thumb and wrist in too!) As she worked, I found myself definitely hard, no question about it. I even began to think that I might maybe perhaps get somewhere tonight.

But still, I couldn’t get over the edge. When she deliberately massaged my prostate, there was a little dribble of cum, kind of like pre-cum. But not the fine ejaculation it should have been. No way I’d count something that weak as anything near success.

She kept going hard as she could, and I started to wilt a bit. I figured that was all I was going to get, but at least it was better than nothing. I was ready to cut my losses and stop for the evening. Looking up at her I had my mouth open to speak until I suddenly recognized that she was pissed.

I should have seen it coming. She had put in a lot of hard work, she had suffered without for a couple of weeks, and it seemed like I wasn’t cooperating at all. She was unquestionably mad. It showed, and she couldn’t keep going with our situation. Something was going to change.

Next thing I knew, she had grabbed my legs behind the knees and pulled them up toward my stomach. She was trying (and succeeding) to roll me up into a ball, knees in my mouth and with my rear 6 inches off the bed.

"Listen here, you shit-hole" she said. "I’m getting VERY tired. I’m tired of working on you all night for that tiny little dribble of nothing, and I’m REALLY tired of not having you interested enough in me to even TRY to give me just one good earth-moving orgasm during the last two weeks."

I’d not seen her like this for a long time, and I felt a stab of fear go through me. Back then it took me a long time to get out of the doghouse. Now it looked like I was going to have Fido as my only friend for a long, long time.

"Even if you can’t get it up, you could at least come after me, use your tongue, fingers, romanced me, done everything that doesn’t involve your cock. I would have gotten off, and I would have been happy because you were next to me. But you don’t even love me enough to stop feeling sorry for yourself just 5 minuets and remember who your partner is supposed to be!"

I realized things were bad, and I realized oh how bad I’d been. She was right. Absolutely right. I’d neglected her, and neglected our relationship. By then my teensy weensy little dick was so shriveled I wasn’t sure I could find it to pee with. Personally, I felt even smaller. And there I was, with her weight on me holding me pined in the corner and her words stinging my guilt streak.

Her next action really surprised me. It had never even come close to happening before. I felt her let go and heard the Wack!

She planted the hardest smack she could on my bottom. It was right up in the air, asking for it, and she gave it to me. And she didn’t quit. And she didn’t lighten up. And between each stroke, she reminded me of what partnership was supposed to mean.

Commitment to each other. Sensitivity to each other’s state and needs. Watching out for each other. Keeping your partner informed. Giving up some things in order for the other to have something. More concern for your partner than for yourself. Sticking to it when things get rough.

At first, the blows were spaced far apart since she was delivering a blistering lecture between each one. The blistering strokes got closer together as her words degenerated to 3 and 4 word descriptions of what terrible people men like me were.

Then a miracle occurred.

In my head, everything thing that had been bothering me faded away. Those things just weren’t important any more. And the connection between my love and I came rushing back, sweeping over the bridge of our partnership pledge. I loved her. I was sorry that I hurt her. I wanted to make it right again. I wanted her to forgive me and take me back. The tears came, and I started to sob.

And something else happened too.

With each stroke I regained more and more of my erection. I became rock hard. As she noticed my tears, she noticed my raging cock, and became inspired too. The blows continued until I was oozing pre-cum. Then she fell on me, using one hand and mouth to make those final hard scrapings that push me over the orgasmic edge. With the other hand her long finger went straight up my rear to push at my prostate.

And I came.

It seemed like oceans. Cum saved up for many, many days, all waiting to be hard shot against the back of her throat. I twitched and spurted and twitched and dribbled and twitched for minutes.

When I came back to planet Earth, her head lay against my tummy and her eyes and hair were wet with tears. "I’m sorry, so sorry!" was all she’d say, over and over. I stroked her head and said, "Please forgive me. I’m very sorry. Please let me mend our partnership."

Well, things cleared up pretty quickly after that. The next morning we had a long talk followed by a long and gentle fuck. The next evening I took her like a wild man, coming 3 times.

So the obvious moral of this story is: "Patience, men, patience! You will get it up again!"

But the more important thing I learned is that there a bond beneath any good relationship from which all good things, including great sex, come. Neglect it and you will loose something, and start to feel the emptiness and yearning those without true love experience every day.


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