Everyone Point at the Bitter Geek in the Corner

If you’re a comic fan or a convention goer, if you follow the industry or are familiar with the concept of cosplay, you may be aware of the diatribe that comic artist Tony Harris posted to his Facebook page a week ago, raging in an embarrassing fashion against “COSPLAY-Chiks”  [sic] who he generally considers fakes who “DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT COMICS” and who prey on “average Comic Book Fans who either RARELY speak to, or NEVER speak to girls”.

Let me back up.  For those not in the know, the term “cosplay” refers to the practice of wearing the costume of a character from film, comics, video games, and other works of genre art.  Basically, cosplay is any instance of an individual wearing a costume outside of Halloween or a staged performance.  Those people wearing wizard robes lined up for the last Harry Potter film?  They were cosplaying.  But the most common venue for cosplayers is the fan convention.

Be it a comic convention, a science fiction convention, a gaming convention, or any other variety, “cons” are the ideal location in which to scope out the painstakingly-handcrafted work of very talented cosplayers, which often involves sculpting, welding, woodworking, sewing, makeup, or a combination thereof.  For a wide-eyed geek, this may be what Heaven looks like.  Where else can characters from a multitude of popular fictional universes, from Star Wars to Thundercats to Dungeons & Dragons to Marvel Comics to Doctor Who to Super Mario Bros. get together to celebrate their common interests?
Yes, the costumes are frequently sexy.  But that’s the nature of the comic and gaming industries, which have traditionally been marketed to – I hate to say it, but there’s a basis for the stereotype – lonely males.  Many female protagonists including Lara Croft, Princess Leia, and Elektra Natchios (all of whom have been portrayed, usually by male artists, in revealing clothing in the hopes of attracting the target demographic) also appeal to women as an alternative to the reactive and often victimized female characters frequently encountered in more mainstream media.  
While there is a basis for the aforementioned stereotype, the simple fact is that women are geeks too.  They read comics.  They play video games.  They enjoy science fiction.  They study film with OCD levels of attention.  They should be able to go to a convention and look the part without having to deal with the slings and arrows of someone so obviously insecure about his own sexual identity that he feels the need to liken them to the Sirens of Greek mythology.  Mr. Harris’ pre-emptive strike against “Quasi-Pretty-NOT-Hot-[Girls who] are more pathetic than the REAL Nerds, who YOU secretly think are REALLY PATHETIC” was certainly childish, evidence of what I assume to be deep-rooted bitterness against the girls who refused to talk to him during adolescence.  It may have been a natural extension of the long-held stereotype of the easily-threatened white male geek who feels entitled to toss about homophobic slurs in chat rooms and when gaming online.  Ultimately it revealed more about Mr. Harris than he probably intended.
His Facebook screed shows that he is against the co-opting of what – in his mind, at least – was once an all-male community.  To me, he doesn’t seem much different than the typical rich white male raging against his country club accepting female members and minorities.  It’s the 21st Century, and Mr. Harris would do well to acquaint himself with his audience.  He later denied accusations of misogyny, citing opposition to the common comics-industry practice of female objectification while praising the abundance of female fans he sees at conventions.  But it was too little, too late.  
You can’t slut-shame a growing portion of your demographic and then deny you did.  Even if it was possible, the spin Mr. Harris clumsily attempted to put on the entire debacle is insufficient.  In an attempt to escape the corner he’d painted himself into, he affirmed his respect for the many women in his life, a respect that I’m sure he genuinely feels.  But to me it sounded a lot like someone who claims to have many gay friends but still opposes their right to get married.  He also closed his remarks with, “This is my final word on the subject so move on.  I won’t address it again.”  This expression is internet code for “I can’t win, so please stop arguing with me.”  It’s basically the equivalent of repeating “OKAY!” in increasing volume as someone refutes your points.
As I stated on Twitter last week, I am an unabashed and very sex-positive geek.  I don’t harbor the same paranoia of women that Mr. Harris does, though to be fair I am fortunate to know many women both online and off who are honest-to-goodness comic readers, video gamers, roleplaying gamers, and the like.  Very passionate about their areas of geekspertise, they challenge the antiquated notion that women can’t be geeks.  Therefore when I see a female cosplayer at a convention, dressed provocatively or otherwise, my first reaction is to admire the work in much the same fashion that I would a male cosplayer.  After all, I’m not talented enough to do it myself.  I’m also likely to acknowledge the sex appeal of her costume if warranted because, let’s face it, that’s where my brain is at most of the time.  But one thing I generally don’t do is assume that she’s some sort of life-draining succubus, looking to latch onto and drain the vitality from every geek she meets like a demon collecting souls.  
No, I’d rather assume that she’s a real fan, because I’m guessing that you’d have to be a real fan to go to that much trouble.  If she’s not a fan – not that it’s any of my business – I’d probably assume she’s there with friends, or with her significant other, and has made the effort in order to ensure that she has a good time and fits in.  Ultimately, though, it simply doesn’t matter to me one way or the other.  Let’s say she’s a fake, that she just picked the coolest-looking costume she found in a Google search for “sexy cosplay”.  Maybe this outsider is trying to get her foot in the door, so to speak, and learn more about a very rich and exciting subculture.  Why should she be vilified?  So she’s new to the ways of the geek.  There’s no prerequisite for dressing up and attending a convention.  There’s no minimum number of experience points, no quest to complete, no dragon to slay.  All that is required is the interest, and the willingness to make or at least wear a costume in a public venue.  That’s it.  
I understand that for some, territoriality is part of being a geek.  It’s the same principle I possessed as a teenager which led me to abandon whichever obscure television series or work of cult literature I enjoyed the second I heard that someone I knew was into it.  But this is the internet age.  “Obscure” doesn’t mean what it once did.  At age thirty-six, I love meeting someone with interests similar to my own.  It’s fun to share my thoughts on a particular piece of popular culture that is important to me.  That so many women appreciate the same things I do makes me admire them even more.

Courtesy of sailorswayze
As a worst-case scenario, what if Mr. Harris is right?  What if these women are attending conventions in elaborate and revealing costumes in order to blantantly self-promote, or – to validate his irrational fears – to manipulate “real” fans?  Admittedly I don’t know what their endgame might be.  Money?  A romantic commitment?  World domination?  Mr. Harris’ insinuation that female cosplayers get off on “the thought of guys pleasuring themselves to the memory of you hanging on them with your glossy open lips, promising them the moon and the stars of pleasure” is spurious at best; I question whether a woman with no interest in comics or similar pursuits would find it worth her time to fawn all over the socially-awkward geeky type that Mr. Harris cites in his Facebook post.
Even if this is the case, though, how does it matter?  The possibility that female cosplayers have begun a top-secret movement to use their feminine wiles to conquer the world is highly unlikely.  I’m guessing that Mr. Harris feels a lot of undue shame for the pleasure he himself takes in gawking at the young women he meets at conventions.  Additionally I must call attention to his angry insistence that comic book writers and artists should be given credit for creating the very costumes that Mr. Harris considers just fine for ink-on-paper superheroines but worthy of slut-shaming when worn by an actual flesh-and-blood human being.  This passage as much as any other in his post betrays his fundamental feelings of inferiority.  
So what purpose is served by calling them out for having a supposed agenda, other than shining a light on his own misogyny?  I’ll gladly double down on my earlier assumption that Mr. Harris was deeply hurt by a woman, or more likely by many women, during his youth or adolescence.  At one point or another, most geeks, males especially, feel out of touch romantically and/or sexually.  But the best way to overcome these feelings is to have some self-confidence and persevere.  Alienating a large portion of your audience by making yourself look like a jackass is easily one of the worst. 
I can’t say anything about this situation that hasn’t already been said by more qualified writers.  Check out a few links related to this story.  

Formspring Friday: Lean on Me

Jack– to YOUR KNOWLEDGE, how many of your pre-Jill lovers were abuse survivors? I don’t mean bad sexual experiences, but women who have come out of some form of abuse and thus needed extra TLC. How did you treat them differently? 

(Submitted by Pagan Princess)

If I had to take a guess, I’d say that two of my former lovers were abuse survivors.  Actually, that’s an understatement.  If I’m being honest I’d say that the number is undoubtedly higher, as there was a period of my life where I seemed to attract women who were – you should pardon the expression – damaged, i.e. the products of broken homes, the victims of abusive parents, siblings, or significant others; or suffering from some variety of emotional or mental malady.  But in most cases I simply didn’t know.  I didn’t ask, or they didn’t volunteer.  In some cases the relationship, to the extent that it actually was a relationship, didn’t last long enough for the subject to even come up.

The first time I dated someone who had clearly been the victim of abuse, I was around nineteen.  I say clearly even though during the early stages of the relationship I had no way of knowing.  Sexually she was a free spirit, pushing my youthful boundaries one minute, then throwing tantrums and reveling in her own petty insecurity the next.  Her behavior was erratic, even dangerous, but being an idealist I was certain that I could rescue her.  What I didn’t know at the time, and what I would never forget, is that you can’t fix someone who doesn’t want to be fixed.  Although I quickly discerned that her home life was volatile, and that her parents – her mother especially – treated her poorly, belittling and infantilizing her, I came to find out that she had also been abused by most of the guys she dated before me.  Although she denied it, I suspected that she was the victim of child sexual abuse as well, as she claimed to have lost her virginity at a very early age.  I was torn between caring for her and wanting to run like hell from her.  In the end, the negativity she brought into my life outweighed the positive.  I was ill-equipped to deal with the drama she injected into my life, and we broke up.
The last person I dated long-term before meeting Jill was someone who had been similarly victimized.  Though she wasn’t as young when she lost her virginity as the woman I mentioned in the previous paragraph, she was young enough for me to believe that she’d also been the victim of childhood sexual abuse.  She eventually confirmed this fact, and during the early part of our dating relationship I also witnessed the domestic terror to which she and her siblings were exposed for years vis-à-vis her parents’ constantly volatile relationship.  That she was as relatively sane as she was proved to be testimony to her strength of character.  The positives here outweighed the negatives, and at this point in my life I was in a better place to deal with her issues than I’d been at age nineteen.  I was patient and empathetic, encouraging of open communication, and far more conscious of my lover’s feelings than I might have been when I was younger.  While this relationship wasn’t easy, it was rewarding.  We dated on and off for a couple years, and our eventual breakup was amicable.
If you want to ask us a sexy question, drop us a line on Formspring, or use the handy Formspring widget on the right-hand side of our blog.  To see who else participated this week, search #FormspringFriday on Twitter!  If you have a Formspring account and you aren’t already participating, feel free to join in the Formspring Friday fun!

Flash Fiction Friday: The Agony of Defeat

CRACK!

The ball soared into the air and the batter ran down the baseline.  She crossed first base and headed for second as the runner on third slid home.  The stands roared to life with cheers as the scoreboard lit up in celebration.

She ran as though her very life was at stake, even as the ball plummeted back to earth.  As she reached third it crashed into an outfielder’s mitt and the umpire called the final out.  The Honeybees won, seven to six.

It was considered good manners for Little League teams to form a line, and for each player to exchange a handshake with, and say, “Good game” to, each member of the opposition.  Although the losing team seldom agreed, for the winners it was an opportunity to display a semblance of respect for their opponents.

But this wasn’t Little League.  The Pussycats returned to their dugout, some players stripping off their clothes before they’d even left the field.  The spectators crowded at the railings, some rushing down the steps to get a better look.

When all the members of the losing team were naked, the Honeybees formed a line and filed through the Pussycats’ dugout.  Each player’s hand connected with the backsides of her opponents.

Each repetition of “We won” was accompanied by a hard, stinging slap. (220/231)

Behind the Scenes

I didn’t even look at this week’s Flash Fiction Friday challenge until Thursday morning, and I didn’t attempt to write it until fairly late Thursday evening.  I hadn’t given the prompt much thought beyond some sort of spanking (or doggy style) lineup; it was Jill who came up with the softball game premise.
Beyond the 231-word maximum (of which I initially thought I’d fall far short but actually ended up exceeding), the other requirement was inclusion of the word “…semblance…”  As is typical, I completely forgot about it until I was around halfway done with the story and quickly inserted it into the third paragraph.
I was unsure whether anyone would understand the reference to two Little League teams exchanging “good game”s and handshakes (usually a glorified low-five when I was a kid).  If you didn’t participate in Little League or have never been to a game, you can see an example of this practice in Richard Linklater’s 1993 film Dazed and Confused.
Deleted Scenes
There weren’t any deleted scenes this week.  As I mentioned above, I was initially worried that my story would end up less than two hundred words long, and while that’s technically allowed, I felt the need to pad the story with a superfluous word here and there.  I wasn’t finished when I realized I had exceeded the limit by more than ten words, and I had to go back and clean up some of my purple prose.  Nothing particularly substantial, and certainly nothing with any real bearing on the story, ended up getting cut.
Soundtrack
It’s gotta be Queen’s We Are the Champions.

The Naughty Hangout: Hidden Treasures

This week, the main theme at The Naughty Hangout is “Secrets”. Here’s the ornate wooden trunk that sits nonchalantly in our bedroom.

Be sure to mouse over the image to take a look at the wealth of sex toys, porn DVDs, lube, cuffs, condoms, and pervertibles that we keep inside, concealed from prying eyes!

The alternate themes this week are “Walls” and “Surreal”. Here I am standing at the junction of two walls (okay, a wall and a door), while the light emanating from the doorway on the left side gives the shot a surreal feel.

See who else is being naughty this week!

Wicked Wednesday: Who Needs Labels?

This week’s prompt image comes from http://radicalbi.wordpress.com/


I’ve never been particularly interested in labels.  I’ve always tried to be an individual, without much concern about fitting into the compartments created by society for its own convenience.  I think that I am far too complex an individual to be summed up in a single, easy to remember term, or terms:  Mother.  Daughter.  Sister.  Irish.  Teacher.  Wife.  BBW.  Catholic.  I’d rather people get to know me and form an opinion of me based on my actions, rather than on any of a series of somewhat superficial details.
One of the labels I find myself rejecting lately concerns my sexuality.  Lately I’ve found myself wondering if I am in fact bisexual.  Bisexuality refers to attraction or sexual behavior toward both males and females.  By this definition I suppose that I am, as I regularly find myself attracted to both men and women.  Furthermore, while I have always identified as heterosexual, I’ve had sex with women as well as men, and I’m very interested in having much more sex with both genders in the future.
But I don’t know if I am truly bisexual.  I don’t believe that one’s sexuality is defined entirely by the sort of individual with whom he or she has sex.  It seems to be one thing to make out with a woman after you’ve had a few drinks and a gang of rowdy frat boys is spraying you with lukewarm beer and egging you on.  It’s something else to make out with a woman when you’re completely sober because she’s hot and you just want to know what she tastes like. 
Despite the fact that I have long been attracted to women, long desired them, and even blogged about my disappointment over sometimes going long stretches of time without any girl action, I don’t identify as bisexual.  Even though I love feeling the gentle kisses that only a woman can give, even though I feel my heart skip a beat sometimes when I think about a particularly sexy female Twitter (or blog) friend and imagine what she might be like in bed, I don’t know that I really want the “bisexual” label, or that it even fits me all that well.  But I’m also not sure that my failure to adopt the label necessarily makes me straight.
I’m more bisexual than a woman who interacts sexually with another woman in order to fulfill some long-standing fantasy of her boyfriend’s, and then feels bad about it afterwards.  Of the several instances (so far) in which I’ve found myself writhing sensually against a naked woman, I’ve loved every minute.  However, i can’t imagine making a definitive lifelong choice to date or sleep with women exclusively.  
And it’s not just because I’m happily married to a man.  Even if I wasn’t, I couldn’t imagine making such a commitment.  I enjoy pussy very much.  I love the way it feels, and the way it smells and tastes.  There’s something very feminine about it, and as a woman I find it very appealing.  But the fact is, I need cock.  If I had to choose one gender over the other to be with sexually for the rest of my life, it wouldn’t be much of a choice.  I’d never eat pussy ever again.  Fortunately, I’m sure I’ll never have to make such a decision.
Perhaps I should embrace the bisexual label I’ve so long avoided.  Many of the people in my social circle, including close friends I’ve known for decades and trusted family members in whom I can confide for almost anything, would undoubtedly be shocked if they knew of the lust I feel for women.  While I’m not about to share this with them, I like having such a closely-guarded secret, one that I can reflect on and giggle about when I’m in their presence.
So maybe I’ll give it a try and see how it feels.  I know Jack won’t fight me, as he seems to like the label.  In fact, it’s all he can do to keep from accidentally-on-purpose mentioning it in conversation with his friends.

“My bisexual wife this, and my bisexual wife that.”

– Jill

Retro HNT: Guitar Heroine

“Guitar Heroine”, posted December 16, 2010

In 2010 we posted fifty-two consecutive weeks of pictures at OHNT.  We’re posting them on our blog, one per week.  They can be found here, along with background information and all the comments they received.

TMI Tuesday: November 13, 2012 – More Movember

Hello my fellow TMI Tuesday junkies. Movember is in full-swing. I can’t wait to see those Mo’s a little later in the month. In the meantime here is a set of VERY fine TMI Tuesday questions from longtime blogger and frequent TMI Tuesday question contributor Virtual Sin.

If you don’t know what Movember is all about see previous TMI Tuesday posts or click here.
Some men who have been treated for Prostate Cancer are unable to get an erection.
Jack’s Answers
1. If they were treated with surgery, the usual reason is nerve damage. They may have success with a penis pump. Question: Have you (or your partner) ever used a pump? Did it work? Was it a turn-on or a turn-off?
I’ve never used a penis pump, but I’ve used a standard air compressor for inflating tires, basketballs, and the like.  I can’t say that it turned me on in and of itself, but – true story – when I was twenty years old I found myself using a manual air pump to inflate an air mattress on which I planned to have sex with my girlfriend.  The thought of her spread legs, full breasts, and willing mouth, all of which I’d be enjoying as soon as the mattress was ready, was a definite turn-on.  Unfortunately I was so exhausted two hours later when the mattress was fully inflated that I can’t say I gave my best performance.
2.  If they were treated with radiation, the usual reason is damage to blood vessels. They may have good luck with Viagra or or one of the other impotence meds.  Question: Have you (or your partner) ever used Viagra, Cialis, or similar? Did it work? Any interesting side effects? Any 4-hour erections? Tell us how you made use of that.
I’ve never used any manner of boner pills, but your mention of four-hour erections makes me think that perhaps I should give them a try.  Incidentally, frequent airing of Viagra and Cialis commercials during Sunday afternoon football games leads me to believe that future generations studying current American society will deduce that 21st-century American males sought to compensate for their physical shortcomings by driving enormous cars and watching men pummel one another over a ball, all while drinking yellow swill deceptively marketed as “beer”.
3.  Some men may opt for a penile implant. See http://www.urologicalcare.com/advanced-ed-treatments/types-penile-implants/. Do you have experience with a penile implant (as owner or lover-of-owner)? Did it work for you?
No, but some people say I have a stick up my ass.  Does that count?
4. If they were treated with hormone therapy (e.g. Lupron Depot), they may also lose all libido. I can’t think of a good question, but if you have a story, please share.
I’m afraid I have no such stories, but I did visit Home Depot last week to browse refrigerators.  Wow, my answers really suck this week.  Sorry; I hate to give the impression that I’m not taking this seriously.
5.  Some men diagnosed with Prostate Cancer change their diet or avoid certain foods.  Did you ever change your diet for health reasons? How did it work out? How long did you stay on the diet?
At different times in my life I’ve attempted to eat healthy, with varying measures of success.  Typically when I do this it’s for the purpose of losing weight as opposed to unclogging my arteries or relieving high blood pressure.  The truth is, however, that I tend to eat whatever I want, no matter how insubstantial or “junk foody”.  I’ve found that, rather than cutting out certain foods altogether, I experience greater success when I simply limit my portions.  Ultimately I shouldn’t care; I’m only interested in losing weight so that I can look better naked, and frankly I think I look pretty damn good as I am.
6.  The prostate is a sexual organ, and treatment of the prostate changes the sexual experience.  A man who has had his prostate removed does not ejaculate at orgasm. How would you react to a total lack of cum?
Ah, finally a question that inspires real, substantial thought, and which I can take absolutely seriously.  It’s never occurred to me that the removal of the prostate would signal the end of my ejaculations.  Once in awhile I’ll have an orgasm and not ejaculate, although this typically occurs when I’ve cum several times in a relatively short period.  As an occasional anomaly, an orgasm without ejaculation wouldn’t bother me too much, but I’d be lying if I said that the thought of never ejaculating for the rest of my life sounds like no big deal.  The truth is that I couldn’t imagine never cumming in Jill’s mouth, never watching her and another woman sharing my orgasm between ruby lips and excited tongues.  The thought of never again filling Jill’s pussy or her ass makes me sad as well.  I assume that I would get over it, though.  I’m not defined by my ejaculation.
7. Although removal of the prostate reduces the intensity of orgasm in the pelvic region, some men report orgasmic feelings in other parts of the body, some describing a “whole body orgasm.” How cool is that?
That does sound pretty cool!  I’m not sure that I’d be willing to trade my prostate (and with it, my ability to ejaculate) for such a whole body orgasm, but I suppose that I would begrudgingly take this new ability as a sort of trade for my semenless future.
8. Do you think a man treated for PRostate Cancer deserves a blow job? If yes, please email Virtual Sin aka SinnerMan…
I most certainly do, though not from me.  Nothing personal.
Jill’s Answers
1. If they were treated with surgery, the usual reason is nerve damage. They may have success with a penis pump. Question: Have you (or your partner) ever used a pump? Did it work? Was it a turn-on or a turn-off?
No, I have never used a penis pump, though I did use a breast pump when I was nursing our daughter a couple years ago.  It did kind of turn me on a bit, though nowhere near as much as, say, using a vibrator.
2.  If they were treated with radiation, the usual reason is damage to blood vessels. They may have good luck with Viagra or or one of the other impotence meds.  Question: Have you (or your partner) ever used Viagra, Cialis, or similar? Did it work? Any interesting side effects? Any 4-hour erections? Tell us how you made use of that. 
I’ve never used Viagra or Cialis with a partner.  The closest I’ve come is having a few drinks before sex with a new partner in order to get myself in the proper frame of mind.  
3.  Some men may opt for a penile implant. See http://www.urologicalcare.com/advanced-ed-treatments/types-penile-implants/. Do you have experience with a penile implant (as owner or lover-of-owner)? Did it work for you?
No, though I did consider getting breast implants when I was younger. 
4. If they were treated with hormone therapy (e.g. Lupron Depot), they may also lose all libido. I can’t think of a good question, but if you have a story, please share.
I have a story, but it doesn’t involve hormone therapy.  It involves me lying on my back in a huge, soft hotel bed and getting my pussy eaten by a fellow sexy blogger while Jack fucked my mouth.  Sorry, it’s pretty much all I’ve been able to think about this week.
5.  Some men diagnosed with Prostate Cancer change their diet or avoid certain foods.  Did you ever change your diet for health reasons? How did it work out? How long did you stay on the diet?
When I was pregnant with our daughter I had gestational diabetes, and I was required to change my diet to keep the condition under control.  Rather than eating three regular meals a day I switched to six small meals, which usually consisted of different combinations of protein, carbohydrate, dairy product, and produce.  Obviously for the health of myself and my child, I gladly adhered to the diet.  But I was really glad when the doctor cleared me to start eating chocolate again.
6.  The prostate is a sexual organ, and treatment of the prostate changes the sexual experience.  A man who has had his prostate removed does not ejaculate at orgasm. How would you react to a total lack of cum?
I love cum.  I love it in my mouth and on my tongue.  I love feeling it rain down on my face and my tits.  I love it when Jack cums inside me.  All of these things are really sexy and sometimes can be very emotional for me as well.  So if Jack could not ejaculate anymore I would be very sad to lose that facet of our sexual relationship.  But I think I would be so glad that he was in good health that it really wouldn’t matter to me.
7. Although removal of the prostate reduces the intensity of orgasm in the pelvic region, some men report orgasmic feelings in other parts of the body, some describing a “whole body orgasm.” How cool is that?
That’s pretty cool.  Incidentally I have whole body orgasms sometimes.  I wonder if men can have them without losing their prostate.
8. Do you think a man treated for PRostate Cancer deserves a blow job? If yes, please email Virtual Sin aka SinnerMan…
Of course!
How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

Sometimes I Don’t Cum During Threesomes

Yes, you read that right.  I, a man who is quite proud of his enormous sexual reserves, who is so orgasmic that he has been known to climax three times in less than an hour, who once claimed that virtually everything he’s done over the course of his life has been in the hopes of having two women at once, sometimes does not have an orgasm during such a threesome.

I know what you’re thinking:  This guy’s full of shit.  Either he’s overstating his sexual abilities, or he’s lying about the lack of orgasms in the hopes that, if we ever hook up, I’ll try really hard to make sure he gets off.  First of all, while I respect your skepticism, I’m not in the habit of lying or even exaggerating.  The title of this post is 100% factually accurate.  Yes, having two mouths on my cock working in harmony toward a common goal is something I find indescribably exciting.  Feeling a clit that is not Jill’s throbbing against my tongue and between my lips while my wife rides me or gives me head is also hot.  And yet sometimes these things don’t result in my cumming with such force, such intensity, that both women are swept away in my ejaculation.  Shocking, I know.
I’m not saying that I’ve never cum during a threesome.  Of course I have.  But it isn’t something I necessarily expect, nor is it something that I need to happen in order to guarantee a sexy time for the three of us.  I hope it does, of course, but on the occasion that it doesn’t, I’m hardly disappointed.  This weekend, while talking about our oh-so-fucking-hot threesome with our friend Sexy Smile, Jill pointed out that during two threesomes with our longtime third M, as well as our most recent romp, I didn’t get off at all.  
We got to analyzing the issue – not that it’s an issue, per se – and came up with several reasons why, during a threesome, I sometimes do not have an orgasm despite the insanely high levels of physical pleasure I’m experiencing.  I’m not the kind of guy who considers sensory overload a problem.  Whereas some men need stimulation to cease altogether as they are climaxing, I prefer it to continue all the way through my orgasm.  Not only is the sensation extremely pleasurable, I also find that I am better able to stay erect and continue on to the second round, as it were.  So it’s not like the sometimes overwhelming physical sensation that accompanies a threesome is problematic; far from it, in fact.
The most basic reason is the fact that I’m used to climaxing last.  It’s just my preferred way of having sex.  Generally speaking I like to ensure that my partners cum first because I’m a generous lover who likes to make sure that their needs are met or exceeded.  It’s also good manners; I don’t insist on climaxing first for the same reason that I would safely escort my wife and child out of a burning building before exiting myself.  Yes, there are some instances, usually late at night, when Jill just wants me to get off because she needs me inside her for a few minutes before she goes to sleep and she’s not the kind of woman who would ask me to just be inside her briefly and get out without cumming.  And yes, sometimes she gets so understandably worked up from being fucked that despite the lateness of the hour she decides that she has to get off as well.  
But most of the time when we have sex Jill gets off first, and I get off last.  As we have a small child to worry about, we’re often in a hurry to finish up; while we sometimes manage two to three hours of non-stop fucking when she is asleep, I’d say that the average length of a sex session is around an hour and a half.  When we have a threesome, however, there is no danger of being interrupted by a sleepy and disoriented toddler, because she’s typically having an overnight with her grandparents.  That means that while we’ve got no need to rush, it also means that we’ve got no need to rush.  In other words, due to the leisurely pace we are at risk of simply running out of time.  Last week we drove into Downtown San Francisco to meet with Sexy Smile.  We had to park in a lot.  The lot closed at midnight.  ‘Nuff said.
Beyond my singular focus of making sure that my partners are satisfied, I believe that I have some sort of mental block in place that exists solely to make sure that the threesome lasts as long as possible.  It’s easily the most ridiculous reason; obviously the experience doesn’t end when I climax; even if this was somehow the case, I can climax several times in an hour if need be.  I’m not likely to be taken out of action by several orgasms, let alone one.  No, I think that the mental block I describe has something to do with me conditioning myself to last as long as possible sexually.  I’ve never suffered from premature ejaculation – at least, not yet – and I suppose that this conditioning has now come back to bite me in the ass.  It isn’t always an impediment to my orgasm, but it can be.
Another reason, possibly the most important one, is that I’m totally preoccupied with Jill’s comfort.  I’m not talking about her pleasure, I’m talking about her comfort, i.e. her emotional well-being.  Jill is my primary partner, and no matter how many threesomes we have, no matter how close we might find ourselves growing to one of our bedmates, no matter how physically compatible I might be with somebody else, she always will be.  As such, her needs are of paramount importance to me.  Yes, Jill enjoys having threesomes with other women.  She loves the various configurations into which three horny human beings can maneuver themselves.  At times I suspect that her love of casual non-monogamy (such as it is) has eclipsed my own.  And I appreciate her open-mindedness and willingness to indulge my desires.
However, I’m all too aware that Jill was raised Catholic, and to some extent still considers herself a member of the Catholic church.  I know that her upbringing and her traditional views of love and sexuality mean that she probably experienced some manner of internal conflict prior to eating pussy for the first time.  Yes, she loved it.  Yes, she’s really good at it.  But I’m not about to take her for granted or in any way assume that just because she loved it the last time, she’s going to love it the next time.  I’m not sure to what extent this concern has impeded me from having an orgasm during a threesome, but I suppose it’s possible, if only on a subconscious level.
The simplest, most obvious reason is that I don’t always cum from oral sex.  I frequently do, but it takes concentration, and some positions work better than others, i.e. standing versus lying on my back.  The surest way for me to climax with a partner is during vaginal (or anal) sex, and while I certainly love fucking, the boundaries of our relationship limit our interactions with other people to kissing, touching, and oral sex, i.e. everything but actual sexual intercourse (for lack of a better phrase).  It’s hardly worth complaining about; generally speaking when there’s someone new on the bed I’m so preoccupied with making out with her, sucking her tits, and feasting on her pussy that I don’t even notice that I haven’t ejaculated.
Which brings me to a major reason why I sometimes don’t have an orgasm during a threesome.  It’s a reason that Jill brought to my attention this weekend, a reason so plain and obvious that I’m rather ashamed that it hadn’t occurred to me; and a reason so logical that it took the superior intellect of my wife to realize it.  “You want to cum when we have a threesome”, she told me, “but why would you need to?  You can take care of that in less than five minutes using your own hand.  When we have a threesome you’re thinking on a subconscious level that this could be the last time it happens, or at least the last time with a particular third.  So you’re way too busy doing all the things you’ve always wanted to do with her:  Kissing her, eating her pussy, getting your cock sucked, watching me eat her pussy.  That’s your priority.  You can always jerk off later.”
What can I say?  My wife knows me well.
-Jack