Nobody Talks About It  (FM, spank, oral, anal)
c 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.