[iBLASTinside] Chasing Waterfalls

[Feeder]

To see iBLASTinside's original blog post, click here...

I’m about to uncork a bottle. Not sure if we’re going to find a fine wine or soured vinegar.

Some know as I’ve entered into this little adventure of my mid-life crisis, I’ve voluntarily entered into a spell of a*celibacy, as strange as that might sound. And of late, that’s been difficult considering I’ve found my cock hard for some action. The little head seems to be wanting to control the big head. But I’ve managed well enough, abstaining from indulging my more animalistic instincts. Can you imagine that the ass-consumer that once was isn’t using*sphincters*for seed release on any basis at all. Instead, I am left wanting, waiting and wondering what’s next.

Funny thing, I’m not sure if I miss the anonymous ass all the time. Fuck. Sometimes I do. And the opportunity has presented itself beyond the usual collection of men who occasionally ask for my loadings. But instead, I’ve sat with my loneliness and allowed it to swelter as I considered my fate.

The other side of the coin continues its path as a few men toss their hats into the ring of fire. Ones I’ve written of prior still tentatively reach out on occasion, afraid of what I might write next. A couple more have appeared since,*tenaciously*grasping toward something that seemed so unattainable once but intriguing nonetheless. I don’t get it, but I’ll go with it.

So here comes the pop of the cork.

I’m confused by the insistence of these bottoms who stand on an uncompromising view of monogamy and I wonder at myself for my ability to release my hold on an open relationship so easily.

Let’s start with me.

Perhaps I think —*okay, I know — that at some point a year or more down the road, when the romance begins to fade and the bottoms begin to crave something a little larger than a seven-incher up their asses (and something warmer than a dildo) that the relationship will be forced to open by their own choosing. Every serious relationship experienced this as the other half cheated on me (and attempted to deny it despite evidence to the contrary).

Men, as hunters and gatherers, come from a evolution where we desire the ability to spread our seed far and wide. And while we may be able to combat that instinct, I think even the bottoms desire to carry the loads of multiple men to further the chance of survival. Of course, we don’t insure the species will grow, but something inside that primate brain of ours finds the moment of spermicidal release as satisfying well beyond the physical.

So I think he will eventually choose the relationship open, so I don’t force the issue now. Yet, it seems I should force the issue and get the other to see the truth now rather than later.

As for the bottom, this sense of ownership seems to be important that I don’t quite get. The top’s cock and cum must always be mine, mine, MINE. Already, jealousy seems to creep in as discussions of “satisfying my man” and a collection of other such language about bonding enters in. I’m reminded instead of a Dominant or Master rather than a submissive or bottom, which makes sense. Anyone with full knowledge of the Dom-sub relationship understands that the ultimate authority lies not with the Dom but with the sub.

Interestingly enough, I asked one of my pen pals if I were to be seeing a massage therapist on a regular basis whether happy endings would count as cheating on the monogamy. His response: “No.”

I hope he forgives me if I explore this a little further.

I imagine he assumed that the therapist just jerked me off. Let’s say the therapist shoved a finger up my ass. Still okay? Sucked me off? The therapist was naked too? He sat on my cock? I sat on his? At what point does the happy ending cross a line and break the monogamy rules?

My subconscious has been clogged up with a bunch of thoughts, how to resolve all these conflicts with men who are showing up interested in me and I, in turn, become interested back. But each, with inconsistencies and uncompromising positions that seem incompatible with me, continue on different paths toward some destination, but I have no fucking idea where.

As a man in a mid-life crisis, do I ride the sports car knowing I’m parking my cock in a temporary garage of an incredibly hot model for a while? Does it turn into something more? Do I stay*celibate? Do I fuck my way out of this funk? Am I just chasing a waterfall? Will I go over the edge to find a natural water pool or rocks to paralyze me?

More...