It's All Hydraulics, Really

It is a very simple procedure. Fill the corpora cavernosa with blood, and keep it there, and you produce an erection. However, the wonders of the body never cease to amaze me, and I am fascinated (not to mentioned turned on) every time this bit of magic occurs.

I have been to various body modification sites where all manner of rings, barbels, or other hardware is attached somehow to the penis. I must admit though, that this is not for me. I just find that this area of me is too sensitive to even consider having anything there pierced; I'd be chicken to have an ear done, so don't even suggest my cock.

Another self-modification that fascinates me (but again, I wouldn't attempt), is scrotal infusion, where most usually a saline solution (though other materials are sometimes used) is injected into the scrotal sac by use of a needle, and the result is that the scrotum swells to contain this liquid. After a certain time period, the liquid is absorbed into the body. However, some pictures I've seen show an incredible amount of growth, with the penis perched above a hugely swollen scrotum. I must admit, the idea of the sensation appeals to me, but my life situation gives me neither the alone time or medical skills necessary to attempt such a thing. If you've read any of my earlier stuff here, you'll know that a particular masturbatory scenario of mine is to surround my penis with warm water and pressure on it, producing a hands-free erection and orgasm. This is associated with my quick pregnancy/inflation/belly fetish, although one can argue that it's a chicken and egg issue, since I really don't know which precipitated the other. Scrotal infusion would be a very real way of seeing this happen in real life, though with my luck, something would go wrong, and I'd hit a blood vessel instead of the sac itself. But I do think about it. The idea of having this full, tight, swinging sensation between my legs and propping up my erect cock is an exciting one. But, one I'll get through other means right now, thanks.

Finally, there is the idea of penis pumps and cock rings in my personal experience. I have been thinking about getting a pump for a while now, though it would be more for the masturbatory experimentation and orgasm then any particular need for penetration. I have used rings off and on over the years, and their start for me came when I first found that using a rubber band when I hit puberty around the base of my cock took my erection to a whole new level. I had to find just the right size band, and took care to make sure only to leave it on for 30 minutes or less during a session. Once I learned the great life lesson that other guys actually enjoyed this too, and that there was something called a cock ring that I could buy to use in my fun, I moved up from my home-brew solution. But, I do admit, I have been know to revert back to my teen years when I find myself in a situation where I want to play, but no rings are to be found. Rubber bands are just so darn ubiquitous; there's always one around when you need it.

The rush of blood to the organ is always arousing, of course. When having a usual erection, the cock fills and stands up straight at attention. Orgasm occurs for me, then all goes back to normal. Using the band/ring, the situation is different. The blood fills, and then just keeps on packing it in. Whereas some blood will always leave a simple erection, using a ring keeps this blood in. As a result, my cock gets big(ger). OK, huge. So much so that it sometimes has a hard time pointing straight up, and falls over to one side or the other. Take my fetish preference, and here's a setup for fun. With myself swollen to huge proportions, I slip on a pair of bikini briefs, and pack myself in. There's only two directions to point myself -- straight up or straight down. I usually opt for up. The bulge is, of course, noticeable, but the confinement in the tight space is what drives my wild here. Often, pointing straight up like this, I simply have no room inside the brief for the tip, and my cock will end up sticking out of the waistband. Sometimes this can be used to advantage as well, as I can then pull down the waistband to the base of my cock, trapping a bit more blood, and allowing my cock to then sway down in front of me. The effect is quite fun to see. Move side to side, and my cock takes just a second or two more to make the journey. The full feeling as it slaps against first one thigh, and then the other, feels good as well.

Orgasm again is different between the methods used to achieve erection for me. A regular erection results in a full flow of semen as it leaves me; using a ring or band, the orgasmic feeling is more intense, but the flow is smaller, due to its being trapped to an extent by the band. To increase this volume, I can remove the band before the orgasm comes; sometimes time just doesn't allow it. After an erection without a band, recovery time is pretty quick. The swelling in my cock goes down, everything returns to normal. Using a ring, removing it after orgasm tends to (for me) leave more blood than normal in my cock, and so the erection is semi-hard for a longer period of time, sometimes for 20 - 30 minutes or so. This makes multiple sessions possible when I'm up for it.

As long as proper precautions are taken, this remains a wonderful release for me. I am always careful never to go too long on time with a band on. 30 minutes is the absolute limit. I don't want to have any blood vessels burst on me. But, in the long run, filling and refilling the penis this way does lead to a bit of lengthening, as new blood vessels are formed inside to handle the increased volume. I've noticed this over time.

And who said that working out had to be a pain?

The One-Piece Suit

We had been living together for about two years when I approached her with the idea. She knew of my preferences, and we had some wonderful sex where she would talk about being heavily pregnant, but when I came up with the idea for her involving the one-piece bathing suit, she took right to it, like...well, like a fish to water, I suppose.

I told her my story of how I had used a plastic bag underneath a shirt (and sometimes tucked inside sweats as well) to simulate a pregnant belly, with the resulting warmth and pressure on my cock providing a mind-blowing orgasm. She was fascinated. She said it seemed a natural progression, from talking about it in bed to play-simulating it. She was open to just about anything when it came to different ways of getting us off. This one looked like it just might work.

When it comes to the building up the anticipation, nothing beats drawing out the planning stage. She waited until the weekend to ask if I wanted to go out with her clothes shopping, casually tossing out the nugget that, since she had really grown out of the last bathing suit she owned, that it would probably be a good idea to get a new one. Did I want to come? Of course, the joke here writes itself.

We got into the car and traveled out to the sports specialty shop. When we got to the Aquatics section, she made the effort to browse the swim goggles and fins, noting out of the corner of her eye my reactions as she seemed not the least interested in heading over to where the suits were sold. At last, possibly sensing my increasing agitation, she shot an "easy, boy" at me, and sauntered over to have a look. She took her time, tsk-tsking over the fact that a bikini might be nice as well, but not particularly practical for this application. She got to the one-piece racks, and looked for more than a few minutes. It was fun to see her put such an effort in to the purchase. And she saw me chuckling as she tested various suits, tugging the front of the material as if to test how far it might indeed stretch on her at the mid-section. Finally, with a wink, she picked up a blue number with a diagonal silver stripe coming from the left shoulder down to the right hip. We headed home, she taking particular pains to point out that maybe it wouldn't be big enough in the middle, maybe the seams wouldn't hold, and so on. I could barely get comfortable in my seat, as my erection seemed to keep getting in the way.

Once home, she took pity on me and expressed interest in trying out the new toy. She headed into the bedroom, me close on her heels, to change. I took the opportunity to get comfortably naked. Nude before me, we embraced, her whispering into my ear "honey, I have to admit, this is turning me on something awful", and she guided one of my hands down to her mound, and her fur was wet to the touch. I kissed her back hungrily, then she pulled out the suit, removed the tags, and slipped it on. Sure enough, there was a bit of a gap at the waist. "That's your area of expertise", she said simply. Then, before she led me off to the bathroom, she looked me deep in the eyes. "Fill me up". I promised to try.

She sat down on the side of the antique claw-footed tub, and I went and got a bag to use. Coming back, we tucked it inside the suit, with the open end of the bag gathered together just at the neck. We tested the water temperature by running the shower for a few seconds, getting it just to body temperature. Then she settled herself down into a lounging position, and rested her head against a folded towel behind her head. Finally, we removed the showerhead and its hose from its bracket, and tucked it inside the neck of the bag. Finally, she twisted the open end around the hose a few times, and I secured it with a twist-tie. She was ready to go. I pulled up a chair and scooted over right next to the side of the tub, giving her arm's-length access to my erect self. She asked if I wanted to do the honors, or should I. I told her to go ahead. She reached up and behind herself, and turned on the shower.

It took a second for the warm water to run the length of the hose and out the showerhead. Then it was in her, filling her. We could hear the water gurgling as it merrily ran down to the bottom of the bag, pooling at the bottom right between her legs. She smiled slowly. "I like it," she said. I could see where her wetness had already started soaking the material between her legs. I reached down with two fingers, inside of the suit, and rubbed her clit for a few seconds...she sighed in an approving way. Then more water started to fill her.

The lycra in the suit took her suddenly burgeoning middle in stride, and began to round her out. She spread out a bit to the sides, and she took her hands and held her new belly from below, smiling and giggling as it grew. She bounced it from below a few times, and the satisfying slosh it made was cute and sexy.

After a few minutes, the water had gotten to a point where it was now filling out the built-in bra cups. She said that the sensation of the warm water over her nipples was heaven. I reached over to run my fingers around them a bit, playing with them the way that she liked when we played. She moaned with pleasure. Her belly had now filled out quite a bit in the front, and she wanted to readjust her position in the tub. She leaned forward, and her belly filled out in front of her, almost reaching to her knees. She crossed her legs underneath her, and sitting this way, her belly floated all around her, covering over the sides of her hips and her bent knees. She was now all belly. I told her how close I was to coming, and she obligingly told me to turn off the shower, as she could not now reach it easily herself. I strained forward to reach it, then settled back. She masterfully stroked my cock back and forth, and leaned to the side enough so that she could take me into her mouth. As the explosion built inside me, she suddenly released her hold on me, and slowly pulled me out of her mouth. "Hold that thought, sugar. Haven't you always wanted to come on a pregnant woman's big ol' belly?" I nodded, and was ready to go, right now. "Hang on, can you? I want to do one last thing for you." I was on the verge, but took a minute or two, measuring my breathing, until the urge to come passed. I was still hard as a rock. "Ready baby?" she asked. Ready, I said. She held my cock again in her right hand, and snaked her left around her back and up above her, to grasp the faucet handle one more time.

She turned it on, then threw it all the way over to the strongest flow.

As the water roared inside her, filling her out so impossibly round that I thought that suit would burst every last seam right there in the tub, I heard the roaring in my ears as well. Her breasts were ballooning crazily, and she sat up with her back straightened, and watched herself expand to the point where her belly actually shuddered under the force of the water. She covered fully half the tub's length now. She stroked and pointed my cock right dead center at that belly.

"Now, lover. Now."


EE

Body Self-Image: Nudity at Home

One of my friends asked me a question recently in a conversation that I call the "Newlywed Game" question; "Name something about yourself that no one else knows." Well, my wife and I have gone back and forth on this one over the years, occasionally prepping ourselves with these little bits of internal trivia, as if we're readying ourselves should Bob Eubanks step out of the shadows and demand an answer.

I gave my friend a stock answer, which happens to be true: I love watching top-fuel drag racing on TV. Now, you don't know me, but if you did, you'd know this...I can't stand watching any other racing on TV. NASCAR, Indy, whatever...just tell me when they crash; that's exciting. But there's something about watching the explosive power of those dragsters sometimes literally exploding off the starting line that has always caught my attention.

I mention this because I read a post on a blog the other day (and I apologize because I can't think of the name of said blog right now -- I've been trying to educate myself here in the sexblogging arena, as I'm still new, y'all) on a game where you share something no one else knows about you, but in a sexblogger-style. The post I was reading shared an item that is similar to mine; that, when at home, and whenever possible, I'm more comfortable nearly naked.

Now how it got to this point is up for debate, but I've got a pretty good idea how it started. I'm a relatively big guy -- 6'3" tall, and until a few years ago, close to 300 lbs (I've lost a bunch since). But having that sort of metabolism just naturally stoked the internal heater in my body, and I noticed that I was always "the warm one" in any environment, be it at home, work, or out somewhere. So, to know me means that you'll almost never see me wearing a long-sleeved shirt. Sweaters? God no, though I have some nicely styled ones in my closet. And so, I think it must have started one day when I returned to the quiet confines of my own place and said, "Wow, it's warm in here; I'm gonna ditch this shirt". Of course, this is no big deal in the world of men; we get to shed shirts all the time, and society could care less. Personally, I think this courtesy should be extended to all womenfolk as well, but that's another post.

I also find that I'm efficient and lazy at the same time. Efficient, in that when I come home, I want to shed whatever pants or jeans I'm wearing to get them into the hamper for the next wash; lazy in that I look at changing into something new for the evening hours in my own home, and go "why bother?" I mean it's just for a few hours before I go to bed, right? So, I'll just stay with the undergarment du jour (switch to a cleaned pair, natch), and be able to relax and be comfortable.

I'm guessing that's how it started, many years ago. Today, it's de rigeur. My wife knows as soon as I come home from work, if we've got nothing going on outside of the house that evening, that my first stop is to the bedroom closet, where I'll me shedding the day's duds. Then I can relax. She doesn't complain or think it's odd (she loves to mention how the increased accessibility to my body has its own benefits), and so now I never think about it; it's just who I am.

Until I read that post. I thought about it in the context of comfort within your own skin, being able to be you without the outer armor, and be happy with where you are at the moment, whether too tall, too skinny, too fat, too short...whatever. I've often thought that I'd make a great naturalist, hanging out at the resorts with other people of the same mind. There just hasn't come a point in my life where the opportunity has presented itself. But I'd love to see how I'd do.

I bet I'd be a natural. And I bet I'd be cool at the same time ;)

EE

Discuss amongst yourselves: How comfy do you feel in your own skin? Given the nature of sexblogging, do you feel that we might naturally tend towards loving the skin we're in a little more, or less (we're more aware, and therefore, more critical)? Let's see those comments, compadres ;)