Well, it’s a new year, new leaf, new direction. We are still compiling our top sex blogs list that we wanted to blog today, but have decided to find different blogs directed more towards couples and relationships, rather than the typical top sex blogs list (reviews, advertisements, reviews, fake stories, reviews). We may not post an updated list. As far as new blogs, we will now try update on Mondays and Thursdays. We did this all December and will have this schedule from now on. We may blog on other days, such as Freaky Friday Search Terms, but check back on Mondays and Thursdays.
So… coming down off the threesome high huh?
How about I just get to the point and save everyone with a low attention span the burden of having to skim through this blog. Threesomes are overrated.
Okay, for those of you sitting on the toilet dropping your chocolate meatloafs with nothing better to do than read a blog about a guy who is coming down from the threesome high, here we go.
Although my version (I am speaking for myself, not Venice) of our threesome stories have been written to sensationalize the sexy aspects of threesomes, they do not tell the whole story. The truth is, I never felt comfortable in any experience. Most of the memories feel more like mental movies that I didn’t really live, yet I have the memory of what happened in the movie. The movie wasn’t great, but it had a lot of nude scenes, or moments you’ll never forget (think Basic Instinct). I think this is because I have blocked out the idea that I mess with other women in front of the woman I love more than anything in the world. In the heat of the moment, everything seems exciting. However, we do not live life in the heat of the moment, and once the moment passes, the reality of the experiences aren’t something I am proud of. Not that I was forced to have threesomes, or forced to do more than just watch Venice spend time with another women, but I guess it’s like seeing your best friend have a good meal, and instead of joining in and eating with her, you just watch her eat. It didn’t have sex because I was horny or wanted other women, I had sex because they were going to enjoy Venice, so I wanted to enjoy them. I didn’t want to sit back and watch, I want to put my penis in both girls’ bodies and mouths, just because the opportunity is there. The caveman mentality of having every woman in the room seems to take over. When I orgasm, the caveman dives back into my ball sack and the real me shows up. The real me feels disgusted and almost sick to my stomach. I would compare the feeling to smoking cigarettes when you want to stop. You grab the next cigarette and you tell yourself, “This will be the last one.” It’s not the truth, but it’s what you tell yourself because you feel guilty. As you smoke the cigarette, you feel this huge relief. You are getting what you want, what you are addicted to, and you enjoy the moment. As you take your last puff, the guilt sets in and the endorphin rush dissipates. You’re satisfied as the nicotine flows through your blood. In fact, you are so satisfied you could swear you don’t know why you even smoked that cigarette to begin with. The urge is gone, the guilt has set in, and you begin to tell yourself all over again, I am really going to stop this time.