Money and attention

Lately, I’ve been thinking a bit about how money works, about how it can simultaneously deliver and undermine fantasies.

As I’ve written about before, my ultimate fantasy is endless oral sex with endless women.  And I’m a lucky guy – it’s not that infrequent that I have the experience of long blowjobs from two women at a time.  But invariably, when that happens, the women are women I know, like, even care about.  And I’m not paying them.

So often, after just a few minutes after the blowjob begins, I’m thinking empathetically about their experience, about what I’ll do with/to them.  This seems right and good.  It deepens the emotional content of the experience, and inevitably leads to fucking and licking and all sorts of other fun.

And that’s all good.

On the other hand, when I care about people, I tend not to feel so comfortable asking them to suck my cock for three hours.  Especially if I’m not also paying them.

But if I’m paying someone, or someones, to attend to my cock, well, then an aspect of the experience that I’m structurally denied (as I’ve written before) is the opportunity to feel genuinely desired.

And here I am, in my relatively vanilla existence.  I infer, from what I read on the FetLife, and Twitter, that there are cock sluts out there, women who genuinely live to suck cock.  I’ve even met (and paid) a few of those.  But my life – as dissolute as it is – hasn’t brought me into contact with anyone who simply wants to suck my cock forever and ever, and/or whom I’m comfortable asking to do that, without an exchange of money happening.

It feels almost an exquisite torture that I know how to bring about a world in which two, three or more women – women who all really love sucking cock – suck my cock.  But in that world, I’m out a shitload of money, doing something my wife (understandably) doesn’t want me to do, and (because of the money) not able to believe that the women really want to be sucking my cock.

(For what it’s worth, I also don’t want to be doing that, for a whole host of reasons – not least of which is that I have squandered so much time, energy, and money away from my family, I REALLY don’t want to do any such squandering any more.  It’s just not the me I want to be, and, thankfully, I mostly am the me I want to be at this point in my life.)

But back to those women I could pay:  it may be that they are/were perfectly happy to be sucking my cock.  But no matter what, the fact that it’s MY cock is/was of little or no interest to them, except as regards their pocketbook.

And to add to the exquisite torture, somehow I’ve managed to create a universe in which I – for whom a night in which two women suck my cock is something that actually happens fairly often – manage STILL to feel like there’s a cocksucking adventure that I want to have, that I SHOULD have, but can’t.

Yet another way in which it sucks to be me.  Or not.

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