I just retired 6 months ago. One of the great things about that is that I no longer have to worry about an open webpage, getting caught jerking at work, or being seen in an adult store carrying out a load of porn both straight and gay. “Whew!” I think. “I made it safely without being discovered for the pervert I am.”
You see, like so many of us on ST, I’ve wrestled with shame over just being who I am. I love to masturbate. It is so important in so many ways. It relaxes me, stimulates me, and even makes me feel proud. Yes, if I have edged for a long time and blast a load hard enough to hit my face, I feel proud. Not like I can go out and boast about that. But some of you know exactly what I mean.
I’m taking meds for an enlarged prostrate. It helps me make it through the day without planning my trips around finding a restroom to tinkle out a few drops of urine. It also impedes my erections and sadly my orgasms. No more healthy amounts of hot cum to smile at after I’ve shot them. Hell, I’ve even had retrograde ejaculations where it shot back into my bladder.
I still love to look at naked bodies, alone, together, having sex or just posing. Naked bodies are beautiful and the beauty puts me in a state of joy. Sometimes I’ll go for hours with only a slight stirring in my crotch. It’s okay, it’s still a joy to have those sights and time to enjoy them. If I’m at a museum, I can sit for a long time contemplating a sculpture lovingly gazing at the bodies frozen in time and space. Like a time stopper, I can take my time just absorbing the scene.
I’ve read a dozen or so stories on ST before I wrote this. Waiting for a car repair and enjoying the stories. I have a slight erection going on and like feeling full, knowing I’m in a public place. I’d be happiest if I was hard erect in this waiting room, but I’m not young anymore.
And that’s what I’m dealing with. I’m fine getting older. I’ve paid for any bit of wisdom I’ve gained. I just hate losing my sexual energy. I feel that same hollow feeling between my shoulders when my arousal starts, the same fullness in my balls, the same desire to grab my cock and rub it. And to be watched while I’m doing it. It’s just that my body isn’t as responsive as it was.
I miss the heavy cum loads that land with a splat I can hear. I miss the distances. I miss the demanding way my cock got my attention. I find that I love the Vintage boards with pics and videos from my glory days of endless jerking. I am so thankful for all those women who posed for the camera so I could look at their nakedness and give my tribute to them. I still remember some of the places I masturbated where I looked at a particular Playmate and had a great cum session. Their eyes still look at me as I stroke to their images now.
Today I like looking at men as well. Why did my fears prevent me from trying to connect when I had the chance? I see those hard cocks and wonder what it would feel like to rub them gently in my face and lick them slowly from balls to tip. And I love even more seeing cum shooting out over a woman’s body, these lovely pearls of joy. I love the moment when the hot pearly cum begins to clarify and run freely across her face or breasts. And I want to lick it all up, licking the nipples and the cock that delivered the semen there.
Alas, the mind is still very willing, but the flesh is weak.
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