“Though I’d been learning to embrace my life in a wheelchair—a result of cerebral palsy—going without touch, or even access to my own body, was taking a toll.”
By Andrew Gurza
By Andrew Gurza
I’d never considered the price of intimacy until I hired a sex worker. Though I’d been learning to embrace my life in a wheelchair—a result of cerebral palsy—going without touch, or even access to my own body, was taking a toll. Even so, I didn’t come to my decision lightly. I was worried about shame, stigma, and fear, and concerned I’d pay for time and still not get what I needed. I spent weeks quieting the voices in my head telling me that using the services of a sex worker was not a good idea. Would this be the only way I could find intimacy? Would someone even want to do this with me, or would he only view it as a charitable opportunity to help a cripple? Despite all these questions, I sat in my apartment reflecting on my nearly year-long celibacy. It was time to take care of myself.
After scouring site after site with rows and rows of horny men holding their hard-ons, I found David. His smile was warm, inviting, and intriguingly devious all at once. He was older than me, in his mid-40s, and his photos showed off a powerful body, a strong charisma, and an undeniable charm. I’d often felt physically invisible within the mainstream LGBT community, but David possessed everything I longed for.
I sent David a cursory email, telling him that I was interested in using his services, but that I had never done this before, that I was nervous. I also casually explained as best I could that I lived with a disability and used a chair. He emailed back some hours later, letting me know that he had experience working with clients with disabilities. David wrote bluntly: “If I’m unsure of something, I’ll just ask.” It was a refreshing change from all the guys who tripped and tumbled over their discomfort.
We ironed out the logistics—a time, a location, a fee. Knowing that my sexuality would be broken down into a succinct session was daunting, and it took away from the fantasy and spontaneity I had dreamed of. But this, perhaps, was the cost of getting what I wanted, what I needed. David gently reminded me that I was paying for his time, and whatever happened happened. On our very last exchange, just a day before we’d meet, he called and asked me a simple question, though one I have never been asked before: “What do you want?”
Shyly and nervously I outlined my likes and dislikes as well as my abilities. I wanted kissing. I craved body contact. I couldn’t bottom for him because of my spasticity and tight muscles. I’d need help undressing and being put in bed. I paused, smiled. My needs were at the forefront.
On a rainy, blustery Saturday afternoon, my iPhone blinked with the message that David was in my lobby. I looked at myself in the mirror: a long-sleeve shirt, cozy winter sweats, a baseball cap. I headed downstairs in the elevator. When the door opened, I recognized him immediately. “Hey there! How are you?” he said, giving me a big hug as if we were long-lost friends. I kept watching him, in part because I still couldn’t believe this was happening, and because he looked really good in those tight blue jeans and that leather jacket.
A sexy man was in my house. We made small talk, waiting for someone to strike. He led himself into my bedroom and asked me about the transfer device I use to get into bed. I told him he would have to lift my legs while I held on to two gymnastic rings fastened to a hydraulic lift in my ceiling. I continued babbling, watching him get closer to me, taking off his coat, revealing a tank top and thick, muscled arms. He then straddled my chair, bent down, and kissed me. As I reached and pawed at him—my limbs flailing, not wanting to miss an inch—he stopped me. He looked into my eyes, past the rejection and pain caused by other lovers, and spoke with a firm honesty. “It’s OK.”
David drank in my disability and I dared not stop him. He lifted me out of my chair and held me in his arms. He grabbed me, cradled me, and kissed me. I curled up into him so he could feel the scars, curves, rods, and contractures that inform my disability. I felt sexy. He took off my shirt, and together we revealed my skin. As he moved down my body, and took off my pants and shoes, I worried what he would do when he saw my leg bag and my toes, which curled into each other. But David made this act of care exciting and real for me. When I was finally naked with him on the bed—my body going into spastic fits as a result of CP—I started to tense even more as I neared climax. In a piercing moment of release, I felt my two identities collide: queer and crippled came together in a surge of pure, uncomplicated pleasure.
The afterglow was setting in as David lay beside me. He held me tight and kissed my forehead. He told me that I was handsome, and as I looked at his arms wrapped around my spindly legs, I felt he meant it. Moments passed and he placed me in my chair, planting one last soft kiss on my lips before ending our session and saying goodbye. As I sat alone, my adrenaline became diluted by a calming bliss. I could not shame this experience because it marked a passage greater than a fleeting carnal exchange. It was the start of my own physical assertion. I would not settle for an affectionless existence, and I had to strive to honor what I wanted as a seated, but sexually alive, man. I finally had someone see me, and regardless of the cost, I finally showed myself to someone else.
Complete Article HERE!
I’m a married guy with a great wife and 3 beautiful kids. A couple of weeks ago, I went to a masseuse I found on Craigslist. I don’t have a lot of experience with massage and thought I would be safe going to a guy instead of a woman. The guy was really nice and did a good massage, but somehow I popped wood near the end of the massage. I was really embarrassed, but he was like totally ok with that. Then he asked if I wanted a happy ending. I didn’t even know what that was till he started to massage my ass and blow me. I have to admit it was totally amazing. I never felt anything like it before in my life. My wife sometimes will give me oral sex, but nothing like this. I blew a load like nothing I ever did before. I though my insides were coming out of my cock. I was amazed and scared and confused and I could hardly sit up. Then the guy said I had a real healthy prostate. I said, WHAT? And he said he was massaging my prostate while he was sucking me off. I can’t stop thinking about this. I want more but I feel really guilty and I’m afraid this is going to make me gay.
What a great story, Nathan. But we need to clear up a few things. A masseuse is a female practitioner of massage. A masseur is a male practitioner. This is a common enough mistake, but I thought you should know the proper usage for further reference. Because you can see how a little unintended slip like this will make all the difference in the world. If you say a masseuse gave you a blowjob that’s totally different from getting a blowjob from a masseur, don’t ‘cha know.
I’m gonna also guess you never had a prostate massage before this encounter with the masseur. A prostate massage coupled with your first blowjob from a guy…hell, you are lucky your insides didn’t shoot out your dick along with your spooge. I’m joking of course, but it does stand to reason that you had such an intense and explosive orgasm and ejaculation. That’s precisely what a prostate massage does, honey.
Now, let’s see if we can figure out why you can’t stop thinking about this. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to analyze that either. This was a peak sexual experience for you. I mean, beside the mind-blowing release, the means by which you had this orgasm — the guy’s finger in your ass and the guy’s mouth on your dick were both unexpected and apparently unprecedented. So I figure you had very little time to cognitively respond to the stimuli before things came to their explosive climax, so to speak, as it were. And you did say you were already relaxed and aroused by the massage, right?
I’d be willing to bet that if you had some emotional distance from the experience you would realize your body was simply responding to the stimulus it was receiving. Your dick and your prostate weren’t able to distinguish the gender of the person diddlin’ your ass and suckin’ your dick. And since your brain was occupied with all these new sensations you had little time, if any to process and possibly protest. And maybe you wouldn’t have protested even if you could. Maybe you wanted to take this little walk on the wild side. Trust me, lots of guys do.
Now that the event has passed, you have plenty of time to process. And process you are…to within an inch of its life…if ya ask me. This experience looms so large for you because it is forbidden fruit, so to speak. It upsets the apple cart of your cozy and predictable heterosexuality. I mean it’s one thing to pop wood on a massage table. It’s something totally different to blow a wad while a guy is givin’ you head.
And now that you have all this time on your hands to keep pouring over and over this in you head, the event has taken on a proportion it probably wouldn’t have otherwise.
Let me put your mind to rest, one blowjob from a guy…even an earth-shatterin, prostate-massagin’ blowjob, like the kind you got from this fabulous masseur…won’t make you gay. Nor does wanting to repeat the experience make you gay. All this experience really tells us is that you like a good blowjob and you now know where to get a really fantastic one when next you want one.
Think about it this way. Say you went to a Chinese restaurant and, to your great surprise, had the best dim sum ever. You were so impressed with the food that you’ve been eager to return to this particular eatery for another go at those tasty vittles. Does this desire for yummy dim sum make you Chinese? I don’t think so…that is unless you were Chinese before you went to the restaurant.
The experience you had with that masseur, Nathan, is so highly charged, both culturally and sexually, that it will take some while for you to find your balance once again. In the interim, my I suggest that you postpone any judgments about yourself or what the incident might imply about you until you’ve have some emotional distance and the time to calmly process all of this. In the final analysis, I think you’ll come to the conclusion that this is a relatively harmless sexual outlet. The masseur is providing you a service…I mean beyond the obvious. He is providing you a safe, secure non-judgmental environment to exercise and expand your sexual repertoire. Think of it like a place you go to learn about the wonders of sexual dim sum.
Name: Jim & Elaine
Age: 42 & 38
We have been happily married for 15 years. We have a good, but pretty vanilla sex life together. We want to spice things up and are talking about maybe looking for other couples online. We’re both in good shape and have very outgoing personalities. Both of us have had one short affair in the past, now we think we want to play together. Thoughts?
You guys want to look for other couples online…for ummm sex? I mean you imply that but you don’t really come right out and say it, do you? I know you are new to this and you are just feeling your way through this unfamiliar territory, but unless you want to look like rank amateurs by other consensual non-monogamous couples, like swingers and polyamorous folks…and that’s what we’re talking about, right? You’d better get comfortable articulating precisely what it is you want, how you want it, and with whom.
If you’ve already begun your online search, you’ve probably already discovered that there are several different avenues for you to pursue. There are, of course, dating and profile sites. There are also sites that feature ads from other non-monogamous couples. If swinging is what you are after, there are exclusive swing parties and more inclusive swinger clubs. And each of these outlets may offer special groupings for the fetish-oriented swinger.
Since you don’t actually say what kind of consensual non-monogamy you’re looking for, let’s talk swinging for now. Like I said, this isn’t the only kind of consensual non-monogamy, but it’s probably the oldest most established variety.
Before you swing, you guys need to decide what type of swing-set you want. If the vocabulary that follows is unfamiliar to you, you have some remedial homework to do before you launch your swing-capade. There is “soft” swinging and “hard” swinging. And bisexually may or may not be an option for you.
If you assume that all swingers are open-minded about sex, consider this; lots of swing outlets prohibit male-on-male sex. Personally, I find this extremely bizarre and off-putting, but I suppose it only reflects the prejudices of the popular culture. There are some swing-sets that allow novice swingers to simply to be voyeurs. I can’t fuckin’ figure this out either. Maybe it’s a heterosexual thing.
If you gravitate toward the club-set there are 3 types to consider:
Whichever outlet you choose; make sure you understand the rules and regulations of the get together before you attend.
Like I said, it’s of the utmost importance that you guys decide, in advance, what your limits are. A good number of otherwise healthy marriages flounder at this point. Have a clear and frank exchange with each other on the ground rules of your swinging and then stick to them. Trying to negotiate a change to the rules of engagement during a swing is a very bad idea. That’s not to say that your ground rules won’t change and evolve over time; just don’t attempt to adjust them while they are in play.
Never push your partner into doing something he/she is not ready to do. Be open with each other before, during and especially after a swing. Effective communication is essential. This goes for communicating with your fellow swingers. Be sure to let everyone know that you are newbees to the scene. (Don’t worry, everyone will have figured that out already.) Novices stick out like a sore…hard-on.
Most clubs and groupings don’t allow single men. Most swing-sets are women oriented, to the degree that women set the tone for the swing. That being said, it’s still a man’s world. Men generally dictate the type of sexual expression that will be tolerated — thus the prohibition, stated or unstated, against male on male sex. Female on female sex is, of course, encouraged for obvious reasons. How’s that for a screwed-up double standard?
Most clubs expect full or partial nudity. My swinger friends advise that if you just want to attend so you can ogle others, stay the fuck home! Novice swingers, like you guys, ought to stay together until you feel comfortable being apart. But for Christ sake, don’t glom on to one another like the other swingers have the cooties.
Most of all, take responsibility for your eroticism and your sexuality. Be friendly and good-natured. And don’t try to pretend you’re a more accomplished sexual athlete than you are.
Be advised, you are about to embark on a sexual journey that will take you to the edges of what society regards as appropriate sexual behavior. Don’t be surprised if some of your more traditional friends discriminate against you when they find out about your new activities. Finally, swinging is far less about what you do (sex) and way more about who you are (a lifestyle). To that end, I’d like to turn you on to a fantastic resource. Check out my friends, John and Allie, at SwingerCast. And be sure to listen to my two-part interview with them right here on my site. You’ll find Part 1 HERE and Part 2 HERE!
I’m 15 and masturbate often but have had no form of sex although my girlfriend wants to start. However my penis and scrotum have extremely small lumps all over. I also have a purple red large lump on the rim of my bellend. What do I do? Should I start? Or do I risk giving something to my girlfriend?
A quick note before we begin. I’m a Ph.D. kind of doctor. not MD type of doctor. You know that, right? While I know my way around the human body, I never offer medical advice of any sort. And, just so you know, no self-respecting physician, MD kind of doctor, is gonna offer you medical advice online either without seeing you in person first. Which, if you ask me, is a real good thing.
Here’s the thing about lumps and bumps and discolorations of the skin anywhere on your body, especially on your precious willie, pup. They are signs that all is not well. Do us all a big favor and have your johnson looked at by a physician. Your health is nothing to fool around with. Everything you describe could be completely harmless, but you don’t want to take the chance that it isn’t, right? And here’s a tip: don’t do it for your girlfriend. DO IT FOR YOU! It’s your dick, you gotta lean how to take care of it. And there’s no time like the present to start properly lookin’ after it.
Just so you know, I’m not suggesting that your have a STI (Sexually Transmitted Infection). I mean, how could you? You’ve only been wanking, right? Still, if you’re concerned enough to write to me about it, you should take yourself in for a look-see. Since you are underage, you’ll probably need one of your parents to arrange the appointment. But if you are typical teenager, you’ll probably be embarrassed to discuss this with your parents. Still, there’s no getting around this. I think your parents will be proud of you for being proactive about your health and wellbeing. Besides, there’s nothing to be ashamed about.
Another option is to contact a sex-positive resource near you. Check out the folks at FPA. Surely they’ll have a resource for you.
Please take care of this ASAP.
There is one more thing. And I’m gonna be as blunt as I know how. If you think you’re old enough to fuck, you’re old enough to know all about condoms and how to use them. If ya don’t, you’re just a dumb kid who may function like a grown-up, but doesn’t know how to behave like one. And I don’t want to believe that about you.
What it is with young people (old people too) who are still fuckin’ clueless about unprotected sex in this day and age? I have nothing against younger people being sexual. That pretty much is to be expected. But I am totally opposed to kids having kids! Like I said, if you’re old enough to swing it around, you’re old enough to know how to swing it responsibly.