Jacking-Off Log

Often, a jack resembles something like a proper golf swing. If all the factors don't come together correctly; one is sure to make a poor showing on the marble floors of the roman ejaculatorium. The ball will veer drunkenly off to the right or left and land in the rough, or to continue the metaphor, the club may well miss the ball entirely leaving the duffer contorted into a preposterous and undignified overextended pose.

I've gone 0 for 3 in jacks the last 2 days. I don't even know if they are worth toting up on the big board. I get jacking and think I am going to pop the orgone bubble with an explosive O, I hurry to the roman ejaculatorium, and then something distracts me and the result is a wet squib.

The build-up today was pretty intense. I kept thinking about this nurse I once knew who had a great mass of soft curls and a big feather bed with so many comforters and down pillows and teddy bears and what not that it makes my lower back ache just thinking about it. She had a perpetually mournful face. She used to cry and say "why do you always have to hurt me before we can have sex?", because the I could never resist the urge to turn her across my knee prior to the physical act of love. In fact not only did I not resist the urge but actively sought occasion to inflame myself with the desire to chastise. But anyhow this is the jacking off log, not tales of bygone days.

Like all the ghosts in my bag of tricks; she is associated with a fleeting moment or two. Proustian sense memories which I suppose will pass before my eyes when the time comes for me to reckon with my Maker. With her; there are two such moments: First, the feeling of waking, with my eyes closed, and reaching out to grasp that headful of curls and gently force it downwards; second the way she had of holding my member in her mouth with a touch that was both incredibly light--seemingly too light---yet utterly inexorable and knowing. I will always somehow associate that with nurses and ministrations.

In the roman ejaculatorium, I had that pressure at the base of my spine which should have lpresaged the explosive ejaculation which frees the mind from vile thoughts for the day and leaves me Apollonian. Instead, I began watching my contortions in the glass and the jack became a meta-jack rather than an immersion in a quasi-realistic virtual masturbation reality. My body came, but my mind was elsewhere. With seed dripping into the basin; I leaned forward and began to inspect my face for signs of aging and approaching death. Prognosis negative.

Often I don't give myself enough credit for the meat and potatoes jacks; those daily emissions which lack glamour, perhaps, but which serve to prevent the backup of deadly semen to the brain and the impairment of cognitive function.

Ever since I had the shunt implanted in this giant freak-head of mine; which drains the deadly pressure off from my cerebellum via catheter to my scrotum; I've been wanking 1x per diem, between meds and vital signs: strictly doctor's orders. Not much to write home about from the erotic standpoint, however.

I was wanking this morning thinking about woman as pleasure vampire and toying with the ideas of loss-of-control in what it pleases me to call "oral servitude". What if some female were trying to drain off my vital IQ points; the ones in suspension in my hydrocephalic fluid? A female perhaps masquerading as nurse. The recurrent, orgasmic image was that of her large eyes, with schlera gleaming blue-white, watching me intently as her head worked up and down, waiting for the moment when the light of intelligence would dim in my visage; the power would pass from me to her and she would hold the upper hand. There's a self-sacrificing, self-destructiveness to such an orgasm; it magnifies the feeling of "throwing it away" that I always get. They don't call it "tossing off" for nothing.

There's a solid shock when you hit it just right; as if, several inches above the cocyx; a tiny baseball player had just homered with a wooden bat. That's the only way I can describe the feeling of connection and impact; the organic solidity of it.

I was lying on my sweaty cot this morning, having a slightly hung-over wank, as you do. I was thinking about this one female who had a short, solid, almost stocky body with large round breasts that stuck straight out at you; as if they were fake, but they weren't. As I wanked, I thought to myself "you should have paid more attention to those tits when you were fucking her...grasped them and turned them from left to right and right to left like a safecracker trying to beat a giant combination lock...". I often have this kind of semi-melancholy regretful ideation while dreaming back over fucks long past. In my mind I played out a scene of what I would do if I had it all to do over again.

At conclusion; I became extremely aware of the orgone bubble. It was almost as if it was a large, multi-lobed balloon-animal swollen inside my body and I was attempting to squeeze it out of my cock and pop it. One bears down here hoping for an explosion and instead the balloon just swells up over there--and vice versa. My body limply emitted a watery effluvium; but no balloon-animal and no bubble. After conclusion, such as it was, I have a faint squeaky taste of latex rubber in my mouth.

I've been having a go at my penis every day; but the themes and Os have been samey and dull, hard to write about. Also there has been a lot of anxiety-jacking; just lying awake pretty much thinking about the price of tea in China, but playing with myself to prevent the formation of bad thoughts in my head. Often these wanks result in an O of sorts.

I had a good one this morning though, thinking about the unfairness of forcing a girl to do oral servitude on another man, then taking the strap to her in a jealous rage. This is the kind of sexual Catch-22 that really gets me going...total unfairness. Also the emotional masochism of making myself jealous.

In the fantasy she was skinny, dusty, in a long wrap-around skirt and a kerchief on her head, bent with troublous woes, grain to grind and rows of maize to hoe. Babies crying and flies crawling. I was garbed in a white shirt open at the neck and dark slacks with polished shoes. This was all influenced by a New York Times article I just read; where it was mentioned that various govt programs were underway in Africa to "encourage the men to stop beating their wives and to ask for permission before sex".

I was furious with her, I ordered her to bend over a rickety wooden chair and lift her skirt above her hips. She obeyed wearily. I took down a wooden switch from the wall and belaboured her hindquarters in a rage, like a drunken muzhik out of Chekov beating a patient mule. As I thought about entering her in that position, vengefully and without asking permission, I emitted seed.

I've been rather active myself lately -- two and three times a day for about a week now. I think perhaps it's buildup from not being free to wank while away on the family vacation and sharing a bedroom with my cousin.

Mostly variations on the same theme of late. A young pretty married thing abducted at the command of a spurned suitor and business rival of her husband's. Hustled into an alley and set upon by two thugs and then carted off to a shanty where they prostitute her for a few days to dock laborers. Sometimes she's merely brought to the rival and he's the first to take her but generally I haven't been able to wait that long and I get carried away letting the lackeys in the alley have at her all the while teasing her about putting her in her place, soiling her with their common seed and continually asking her if she'll tell her husband what they've done to her or simply remember them in silence and horror every time he takes her in future. Yesterday I slid over the edge with an image of one of them taking his belt to her splayed pussy punishing her for being a society whore who thought she was too good for the likes of him. Oddly enough she never IS that kind of stuck up woman so she suffers the punishment for the crimes of others of her gender.

On a purely physical note my O's have been lasting a really long time lately. I'm tempted to say they're mutliple but I don't recognize them as separate, more like a ripple effect with a tiny one progressing to the big finale, but they've been lasting minutes at a time from start to finish. Hoo-fuckin-ray!

-B

Beebs, we haven't seen nearly enough of you in the JOL or indeed anywhere here abouts lately.

Count me in for 50 times in April already. Projections are for 250 by the end of the month.

hogjack said:

Count me in for 50 times in April already. Projections are for 250 by the end of the month.

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On the big board it goes.

*sound of chalk scratching*

You've taken the lead with a vengeance.

rosco rathbone said:

On the big board it goes.

*sound of chalk scratching*

You've taken the lead with a vengeance.

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Of course, I'll need medical care by the end of this month. And re-hydrated.

rosco rathbone said:

Beebs, we haven't seen nearly enough of you in the JOL or indeed anywhere here abouts lately.

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I was out of town for a week and then sick for a couple days but prior to that I've no idea where I was. Distracted and unenthused most likely. It happens, but I am back now and wandering around putting my sticky little fingers into everything that looks interesting.


-B

So la dee da, many unremarkable Os under the bridge, and yesterday I come to one of unparalelled explosiveness. My orgone bubble popped with such a bang that it left me shaken. I still haven't figured out why some Os are so big and most are so weak.

I'll omit the details of the buildup. The climax involved the mental picture of walking behind a skinny girl who had a somewhat baggy t-shirt on but no drawers; and her hair in pigtail braids, slapping her ass maliciously and forcing her to rise to her toes or try to block the slaps by turning slightly aside or fluttering her hands behind her. In this way--mentally--I herd her like a lamb to the slaughter into the bathroom and make her face the mirror. Then with a contemptuous and hard slap to the back of the skull I bend her over the sink--and, ( at this point, instead of visualizing the scene, I , as so often happens, appeared to almost be reading these words from a page in my mind)---"forced myself into her". I ejaculated with a whiplash motion from the base of the spine. It was like lightning struck my prostate and associated ducts and glands.

Hmmm....my evil plot to infiltrate the minds of Litizens is working. I've been wearing pigtail braids for the last two days.


-B

bridgeburner said:

Hmmm....my evil plot to infiltrate the minds of Litizens is working. I've been wearing pigtail braids for the last two days.


-B

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catroar

can't stop wanking. send help.

It would take the Jaws of Life to pry my hand off of member this week, it seems. It must be the life force of spring flowing in my veins, urging me on towards acts of procreation or failing that, acts of onanistic fury.

I've often heard it said that frequent masturbation to pornography will sexually "condition" a man so that the normal expression of his lovemaking with a partner becomes stunted and twisted. I don't know about that; but I wonder if perhaps my masturbations--which comprise well over 90% of my sexual activity, and their concurrent mental imageries and the emotional states therein attained--have not exerted some sort of deforming force on my sexuality.

I can clearly remember masturbating in youth exclusively to fantasies of romantic content: fantasies of being loved, desired, etc. Since then, some sort of downward spiral has taken place; some feedback loop between certain aspects of my masturbation mind, located in the lizard brain of the medulla oblongata, and certain increasingly dominant aspects of my actual sex life with human partners.

Now I only employ images of sexual domination and triumph in my masturbations. The emotional range is correspondingly narrow. I've tried for some variety but it is strictly no go. In my fantasies, I command, demand, and take. The overriding mood is pre-emptory, dictatorial, conquering.

I might be tempted to interpret this mood as the objective correlative to a being starved for actual sexual activity with human females--an internal toddler cry of I want! Now!; if it were not for the fact that this spiral was intensifying throughout the duration of several long relationships in which "romance sex" was freely availible.

Enough theory! In my last wank, I was fantasizing about sex as masturbation; that is to say, the act of taking sex from a person with the casualness with which one has a wank, and with no more regard for their desires than one has for one's own hand. Dehumanizing, perhaps. This worries me, in fact, but I seem to be at the mercy of my lizard brain. I throw myself at the mercy of the court! Twas not I but my savage beast brain, my tiger mind! The gavel descends. For your crimes of mind against the race of womanhood you are sentenced to slowly twist in the wind of sexual solitude as a warning to all who pass by.....

Last night I imagined commanding a female to come sleep in my bed with me, but without any garb upon her lower body: for easy access. Then (in fantasy) like a thief in the night I forced myself upon her from behind, straddling her on my knees, one hand gripping each ass-cheek, her form indistinct in the gloom, her head thudding dully against the wall with each stroke. I achieved conclusion with a sigh of release---or was it despair?

I am usually a night wanker, but the last 3 days have been straight to bed. I decided to open the flood gates and note it in this JOL..
It is not that I have been without inspiration or talent to fuel my young mind with such thoughts, it has been the motivation that is lacking. The need lurking, but overshadowed by other thoughts.
With the discussions of Daddies I have had in the last week, my fantasy for this particular release was inspired by ideals.

I am curled up next to him on the couch, his intent glance leaves his reading and he looks over at me. Kisses me intently and pulling the back of my hair at the nape of my neck.
He pulls away and with one swift move pushes my face to his swollen member in his pants. Not a word uttered, nothing said or commanded. I knew what was needed, no words needed to be wasted.
Keeping my eyes on the prize and lowered, I began to fully suck it down my throat as a little girl should. Sucking his cock, pleasing him, serving him as only his own hand would, but warmer and wetter. Him sitting on the couch, me nude from the waist down, on my knees in front of him, my shirt pulled up.
His hips pushing up, his hand holding my head down, my wetness throbbing knowing I am doing well. He is growling sweet nothings in my ear that Daddies only know how to say- words to send serving to the edge.
Tasting his precum, feeling his balls tighten in my mouth. His cock throbbing with each stroke, I have no need to look at him for approval. His look has not left me, I can feel it like a scarlett letter burning me.
Shoving his thickness back into my mouth, taking it to the climax, him shaking and moaning wickedly delicious things to me, insuring to take his orgasm like a pro and wanting to take it all.
His thick seed is errupted in on my face and in my mouth. He pushes me off as that it has become to much, a good girl never quits till he says. I lick my lips, smile, and look down.

The O was wonderful, the floodgates had opened and I felt sleep eminately upon my mind. I moved from on my knees and elbows to being curled up with my shirt still pulled up and no pants, dreaming of Daddies, this little girl drifted off.

*Edited due to the orgasmic furry typos..

Jeez Louise you wrote a book Lux! Welcome to the jol.

Shrimps, welcome. Let's have some more jacks out of you, even though you are sexually uptight.

I've got jacks unlogged. I need to get with the program.

rosco rathbone said:

Jeez Louise you wrote a book Lux! Welcome to the jol.

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Never again.

luxey313 said:

Never again.

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I'm betting that your entry gained you many, many PMs.

_Milky_Whites_ said:

I'm betting that your entry gained you many, many PMs.

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And don't underestimate your own particular entry.

_Milky_Whites_ said:

I'm betting that your entry gained you many, many PMs.

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No... it is just I am being called long winded amongst other insults..

luxey313 said:

No... it is just I am being called long winded amongst other insults..

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They're just orally envious.

hogjack said:

And don't underestimate your own particular entry.

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Hmmm....yes, I do believe that I have one in here.

**scrolling back for mine**

_Milky_Whites_ said:

Hmmm....yes, I do believe that I have one in here.

**scrolling back for mine**

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Whether it is there or not... you are an inspiration.

hogjack said:

Whether it is there or not... you are an inspiration.

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Well, thank you. I do try hard.